Tightening my lids, I cover my face with my palm, trying to calm myself. We were apart for so long that it was never a question whether or not he’d been with other people. I just didn’t want to hear about it.
“Who is Christina?” I ask, lowering my arm and allowing my hands to hang heavy at my sides.
“She’s a girl I met over there,” he answers, expecting the question.
“Were you two dating?”
“No.” His entire expression is filled with apologies. “I didn’t really date anyone while I was there.”
Blinking, I raise my chin to the stars. “Go on.”
“She and I were together a few times, and then I never heard from her. It was…well, you get the drift.”
“Yeah,” I say, sharp. “I got it. I get it.”
“Months had passed since I heard from her, and the season was over. Out of nowhere, she just showed up at my place.” He looks straight at me, expressionless. “She was pregnant, and she said it was mine.” He hangs his head. “All I could think about was you. All I saw was you.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I walk to the edge of the platform, next to a docked ship, facing where the water is lapping below. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” I quietly ask.
“Because.” I sense him cautiously approaching me from behind before he stops directly at my back, his body blocking some of the constant breeze. “I didn’t know how to with everything that had happened between us. I planned to tell you someday, but I was waiting for the right time. I should have told you sooner. You shouldn’t have found out like this.”
“One thing I’ve learned,” I pronounce each word with distinction, “is that there’s never a good time for bad news, but keeping secrets only allows their evil to grow.”
He comes to stand beside me, and the tension passes like a bolt of lightning from his body to mine. The wind blasts against us, and my hair flies across my moist cheeks.
“So, what happened with Christina? You said the baby wasn’t yours?”
“No, it wasn’t. I was always careful after you, so part of me never believed the baby was mine…but part of me wanted it to be.”
“Why?” I ask, circling and coming face-to-face with his somber expression. “Why would you want a baby with someone you barely knew?” My lip shakes. “Why?”
“Because of you.”
Brent apprehensively reaches for my wrist, and I allow it.
“Because I couldn’t fix you or us. I thought it was my second chance to make things right where I couldn’t before.”
“With another woman?” I ask, desperate for it not to be true.
“I wanted it to be you.” He finds my other hand with his and takes a step into my space. “I knew things with Christina wouldn’t be the same. It never even felt right in any way…because all I saw was you.”
“So, you what? Had a life with her?” My voice quakes. “Did you love her?”
His shoulders collapse. “I never loved her, but I was trying to do the right thing. We lived together for a month before the baby came.”
Brutally breaking, my heart is pounded to a gelatinous puddle as the jealousy for this woman accumulates.
She got him. She had it all with him…and a baby.
I had none of it.
I was left with an empty womb and scars throughout, wrecking me into oblivion.
“You had a life with her,” I whisper. “A whole life with someone else.”
“It was an empty one, Ruby. I have no life without you, no matter how many substitutions I try to find.”
Stepping around him, I cross the walkway and take a seat on the concrete steps overlooking the southern shores of Chicago. Brent remains in place, solid, a statue illuminated by the lights above.
Deep breaths.
Five of them.
Three more.
He still doesn’t move. The heaviness of his past is intertwining with our present. It’s all out on the table, and it’s so substantial that even the violent gusts from Lake Michigan aren’t able to haul them away.
Brent runs his fingers through his hair, peering over the silky black water. Then, he joins me on the steps, sitting next to me.
“What happened after the baby came?” I ask, needing to know everything.
“The minute Nora was born, I knew she wasn’t mine.”
“How did you know?”
“I just knew.” He balls his fists. “I held her in my arms, and I knew. I don’t know how, but I did.”
The vision of Brent holding a baby, not ours, hits me with a giant anvil of pain and longing. He cradled a child and called it his…and it had nothing to do with me.
“Did you say anything?” I question, torturing my heart with the truth of his past.
“No.” He angles his torso toward me. “Somehow, I thought it was my responsibility. I convinced myself that everything with Christina was my chance to right a wrong with you. I don’t know. So, I didn’t say anything despite my doubts. Her family welcomed Nora and me with open arms. They accepted me easily. I think part of me was just happy to be wanted somewhere.”
“I can understand that.” I tuck my lips into my mouth. “So, what happened?”
“I told my parents about Nora and Christina right after the birth, and my mother came for a visit a few months later. She said she needed to meet her granddaughter.”
“And your mother knew she wasn’t yours?”
“You see how she is. She took one look at Nora, and she knew the baby wasn’t mine.” Brent exhales, his moist breath clouding into the ebony evening. “I was so stubborn, and it took some convincing, but I eventually conceded to my mother’s demands for a paternity test.”
“And that’s when you found out for sure?”
“Yes. That’s why my mom said the things she said about you—well, questioning whether or not you were pregnant. I never told her about what happened between us—you, me, our baby. I’ve never told anyone. That was ours to keep, and I always wanted to keep it that way. My mother’s words weren’t anything personal. She’s just watching out for me, I guess.”
I wrap my arms around my waist, concealing my middle against the cold creeping from the inside out. “What happened to Christina and the baby?”
“I helped out for some time, but they both moved out and in with her parents shortly after the results were revealed.”
“Did she ever find the father?”
“Yeah. Turns out that it was her ex-boyfriend from college.”
“Do you still talk to her?”
“No.” The side of his mouth twitches. “After that, I kind of didn’t talk to anyone. I just did a lot of soul-searching. I focused on the game and finished out my obligations over the next few years. Then, I moved back. It was time.”
“I wish you had told me. After everything we’ve been through, I’ve been nothing but open with you.”
His fingers grip his hair. “I’m not perfect, Ruby. Neither are you.”
“Oh, I know that.” I pull my hat further down over my head. “Your mother was happy to touch on those points tonight.”
“But you’re perfect for me,” he softly says.
I don’t reply.
“You are,” he reiterates. “I hope you feel the same about me.”
“I love you, Brent.” My voice is even, droning out the words. “But nothing feels perfect to me right now.”
I rise from the cool concrete and descend to the walkway. Taking one step in front of the other, I make my way back toward the place where we were dropped off.
“What are you saying?” Brent asks, fast at my side.
“I’m not saying anything.” My feet quit their forward motion, and my eyes land on the tall buildings ahead. “I know you’re not perfect. That’s the thing I’ve always loved about you—your imperfections. They always felt like they were mine because no one else could see them.” The icy breeze brutally blows against my face, stinging my cheeks. “I understand why you did what you did, but it d
oesn’t mean that I like it.”
“Are you mad at me?” He steps in front of me, fear dancing along the edges of his features.
“No,” I utter. “It’s like you said before. The deeper you love someone, the greater the pain. My heart just aches in so many ways.”
Thirty-One
It’s late Sunday morning, and my apartment is silent, except for the sound of the water running in the shower.
Brent is preparing to leave. He’s heading back to L.A. His long visit is officially coming to an end.
Things have been different since his admission about Christina, her baby, and his life in Sweden. Most of this is on my part since I’m having a difficult time processing the hurt from him throwing himself and committing himself to another person and family so blindly. We weren’t together when it happened, so it shouldn’t upset me so much, but it does. There are so many levels of jealousy.
I understand his reasoning for not telling me sooner, but his secrets still leave me feeling uneasy. He’s been nothing but compassionate over the past few days, offering reassurances to my aching heart.
I love him still. He loves me.
However, he’s leaving today in a state of turmoil, and we still have no plan.
The water shuts off, and a few minutes later, Brent emerges from the bathroom, wearing only his boxers. I rise off the bed and meet him in the closet area.
“What time are you planning to leave?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
“In about half an hour.” He bends over and empties a drawer of his clothes into a suitcase. “Should be enough time to get to the airport and go through security.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
He continues to pack his items. I observe his every movement, hanging on to them for future memory. I wish he didn’t have to go, and I really wish he didn’t have to go like this.
“I’m going to miss you,” I say, the words pushing through my lips.
He stills and then rises to face me, an eternity of space dividing us. “I don’t even know how I’m going to breathe without you.” Stepping over his bag, Brent approaches the door and meets me at its threshold.
A tear falls into the creases of my mouth as his fingers weave into my hair.
“I know I’ve said it so many times already, but I love you,” he says.
“I love you, too.”
He inhales shakily. “I was starting to wonder.”
“I’m sorry. These last few days together haven’t been that great.”
Brent tucks me into his chest, and the lingering droplets of water there moisten my cheeks.
“It’s just bad timing,” he says.
“Story of my life.”
“Mine, too.”
He plants his lips on my forehead and takes a step back penetrating me with a look of sadness. Then, he continues to fill the suitcase with his belongings. Once all seems to be accounted for, Brent gets dressed and piles his things near the door. He gathers his leather coat from the closet and rests it over his suitcase. He searches through the pocket and takes out a small box before taking a seat on the sofa.
“Come here,” he requests, his hand resting next to him.
My chest swims with a mixture of emotions as I join him. Taking my hand, he flips my palm and places the unwrapped white box onto it.
“Brent—”
“Just open it,” he insists, nudging the present in my direction.
I remove the lid and peel away the tissue paper. I expect to find some piece of jewelry, but instead, I see a little piece of neatly folded paper.
“I know how you feel about me buying you things,” Brent tenderly confesses. “But I didn’t think you would object to my words.”
My fingers scoop up the small note, and I set the box on my lap. I unfold the paper.
Caritas patiens est.
Love is patient.
I’ll wait forever.
Or longer if you need it.
“I guess they’re not totally my words,” he adds. “I stole the Latin proverb, but you know what I mean.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Every one of them.” He scoots closer. “I’ve waited years. Forever doesn’t seem much longer, especially since my life is only significant with you in it.”
I drop the note to my lap and palm his cheek. The nerves on my skin memorize his features—his strong jaw, soft lips, prominent nose…and those eyes that dig so far into my soul that they claim it with ease. My heart jumps after him with a magnetic pull.
In slow motion, Brent lessens the inches of space between us. His lips graze my own—touching, not touching, and then touching again—a teasing whisper. I savor the taste of his breath. The air created by him flows into me, and I capture every molecule he releases.
Nudging his chin, Brent seals our lips to join into one. The kiss is full of our present and our past and a hopeful future. It’s still there. I can feel it. It never left, not that it ever could. We’ve been through so much already that we will make it through this, too.
“I wish I didn’t have to go like this,” he says, our heads touching. “I wish I didn’t have to go at all. I wish…” Brent pulls me into his form, tucking my chin over his shoulder. “I wish so much for you and for us.”
“We’re going to be okay,” I reassure him, hoping deep in my heart that it’s true.
“Okay isn’t good enough.”
“But what choice do we have?”
His arms lock around my back, taking me into that dreamlike place I love. “I guess we really don’t have one right now. I’m just so worried.”
“About what?”
“That I’ll go, and…with everything that happened with my mother and on the pier…and me not here…I’ll lose you. I already feel like you’re drifting away.”
“We’re going to be fine,” I say for him and myself. “We’ll see each other again soon, right?”
Sitting back, Brent caresses my cheek, his thumb drifting over my lips. “I hope so. The first few weeks back are the busiest. I won’t be able to get away at all. Then, we have preseason games starting, and they’re all on the West Coast and in Mexico.”
“Oh,” I say against the pad of his digit.
“Can you come out? I don’t know any other way to make it work.”
“I’m sure I can find a way.”
“Why can’t our lives be easy?” he asks, his tone mildly defeated.
“I used to ask myself that all the time, but questions don’t make it any easier. They just remind us that it’s not.”
He kisses me again, gentler and sweeter this time. It takes me back to that innocent time in our lives when life really was easy and simple. It was just us with nothing in between—no distance, no issues, no past. We only had a future.
“I’d better get going,” he says.
Brent rises from the couch, and I follow him to the entranceway where he slips into his jacket.
This is really it.
He’s leaving.
He’s been here for so long that the reality of this departure is surreal. The sight of him buttoning up his jacket with his suitcase at his side slams into my chest. A thousand hammers knock the certainty of his soon-to-be absence into my heart.
Closing the distance, Brent clears away a rogue tear from my cheek. “Wait for me?” he pleads.
I nod my head, push down my emotions, and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you,” I breathe hotly next to his skin. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“I will always come for you—always.” His strong hands squeeze my waist. “You’re all that I want, and there’s no one else for me. It’s you. Always has been, and always will be.” His lips press against my hair. “You’re my whole life.”
He kisses the top of my head, and his mouth lingers like a warm flame on a cool afternoon. Grabbing the handle of his suitcase, Brent takes the final steps to the door and opens it.
The tension thickly builds as I resist the urge t
o beg him not to go. I want to tell him to quit his job and live with me, to stay with me. Or I consider begging him to take me with him, and I could quit school this very instant. All our problems would be solved.
But I don’t.
I let logic and fear hold me captive.
He crosses the threshold and turns. He looks at me—no, his slightly glassy eyes bore into me.
“You have my heart, Ruby.” His mouth twitches. “Forever.”
He leans through the door and kisses me hard but with restraint, resisting the pull to dive in.
It’s wickedly pulling me, too.
“I’ll call you,” he says against my lips.
Then, he’s gone.
He’s down the hall, not even daring a backward glance. His form disappears below the stairs.
Time passes…
My breath catches.
My chest is heavy, weighing down my heart, caving and sucking within itself.
I step back and close the door.
It needs a coat of paint. The color is fading.
I rest my forehead on the hard white surface.
I close my lids.
I can’t breathe.
Emptiness creeps inside me.
I’m hollow.
My life just walked out the door.
And I let him.
Thirty-Two
Monday…
Thirty-Three
Tuesday…
Thirty-Four
On Wednesday, I sit in the chair, clothed in Brent’s button-up shirt. It’s the same white one with thin blue stripes that I took from his place those many months ago. He left it in the closet, and I know he did it on purpose.
The leather fabric is soft under my touch, almost like velvet. I never noticed that before.
I love this chair, everything about it. The mix of newness and Brent still emanate from its fibers.
Across the room, the blue sofa is lonely with no soul to hold, not even one.
It’s meant for two.
The love seat is his, but I know better. It’s mine. He had no intention of ever taking it.
These Days Series: After Tuesday | Forgotten Yesterday | Deciding Tomorrow Page 58