by Gina Azzi
“They’re really special,” I say, meaning it.
“Bella made hers for her baby,” Milly adds.
I hear Bella’s audible inhale and feel it like a jab to my chest.
Bella’s baby. Memory wreath.
My stomach twists painfully as I put two and two together. My gaze snaps up but Bella keeps her eyes trained on her plate. Her head is down, her hair slipping forward, over her shoulders, in a protective shield.
“She had a baby boy,” Milly continues, oblivious to how much pain Bella is suffering at the moment.
“He died like Mom,” Mason adds, his words soft but direct.
I place my fork down, my appetite gone.
Bella looks up slowly and her expression guts me. Pain swims in her eyes, a shimmering blue slick with tears. She rolls her lips together and sucks them between her teeth trying not to cry.
Her hurt steamrolls me. I recognize the grief she’s buried under. I acknowledge that while I’ve been suffering, thinking the universe owed me a great debt for taking my wife away, Bella’s been drowning in her own agony. But still, she showed up for my kids on the days I couldn’t and suddenly, I feel like a piece of shit for not seeing her pain as clearly as she recognized mine.
Milly and Mason chatter on for the rest of dinner. I ask them questions about school and their friends which they answer happily. Bella barely says a word and I draw my kids’ attention away from her so she can keep it together as long as possible.
When dinner is over, I put a movie on in the den for the twins to watch.
“Let me,” I tell Bella, taking a plate from her hand.
She lets go of the dish, murmurs thank you, and turns on her heel.
But I can’t let her go like this. I can’t let one more second go by without her knowing how much I value her. How grateful I am that she’s the woman caring for my kids when I can’t. How much I care about her, want her, even though it could ruin everything.
“Bella,” I murmur, my voice thick. Emotion clogs my throat. The air in the kitchen is dense, like a gathering thundercloud, laden with the expectation of a summer storm.
She turns slowly, a heaviness to her gait that is part exhaustion, part wariness. I step forward, pulling her into an embrace that envelops her completely. Her body stiffens for a moment, surprise in her gasp, but I don’t give her a chance to second-guess my sincerity.
I tug her against my chest, wrap her in my arms, and cradle her. Running my mouth over the top of her head, I kiss her hair and murmur, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. But God, Bella, I am so fucking sorry for your loss.”
She breaks apart slowly, like air seeping from a balloon, deflating, instead of a glass shattering against a wall. First, her shoulders tremble, then, they shake as her tears turn into cries that give way to sobs. I hold her as tight as I can, trying to keep the pieces of her together.
“Shh, I got you, Bella,” I whisper. “You’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” The term of endearment bursts in the air but given the weight of the moment, it’s quickly absorbed.
I don’t know how long we stand in an embrace in the kitchen but when Bella’s sobs quiet, she pulls away and hides her face in her hands.
“God, I’m so sorry,” she says, finally looking up. The tip of her nose is red.
“Don’t apologize for anything.” I push her hair away from her face. “It’s me who should be apologizing. I was wrong to snap at you that night. I was worried and I—”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“No, Bella, please. Look at me.”
Slowly, she drags her gaze back to mine, running a hand across her tear-stained cheeks. Her eyelids are puffy and her lips are swollen. Still, she looks beautiful, radiant in a heartbreaking way.
“It’s not okay. You have been keeping my family together for weeks. You have been incredible with the twins and with me.” I work a swallow. “I couldn’t have done everything without you and I want you to know how much your being here means to me.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, her shoulders dropping a bit as tension leaks from her body. “Thanks, James.”
“Don’t thank me, Bella. What I owe you…” I shake my head. “Why didn’t you tell me about your son? Not even that night when I, I shared so much about Layla.”
She clears her throat. “It hurts too much,” she explains, her words strangled. “He would have been three today and it hurts just as badly as it did the day I lost him.”
My heart breaks at her words. My soul twists at the suffering in her eyes. I pull her back into my arms and kiss her forehead. Then I walk her into the living room and usher her onto the couch. Hurrying back into the kitchen, I pour two glasses of wine and leave them on the kitchen counter.
“Give me five minutes, Bella. Just wait, okay?” I pop my head into the living room.
She watches me warily but nods.
I round up the twins and get them ready for bed. Once they’re tucked in with books to read, I return to the living room and hand Bella a glass of wine.
Then, I sit next to her. “Tell me about him. If you want, I mean. But I’d love to learn about your son.”
Tears well in her eyes, one slipping over to land on her cheek as she takes a long sip of wine. She places the glass down on the coffee table and wrings her hands together. “His name was Miles.”
“Miles,” I repeat. “It’s a good name.”
“It’s my father’s name. I went into labor on his birthday and told him if it was a boy, I’d name him Miles. I never thought Miles would die.” She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “My baby died on his namesake’s birthday. How awful is that? I think my dad hates today almost as much as me.”
I shift closer. “I can’t imagine.”
“No one can.”
I reach over and take her hand in mine, threading our fingers together. “If you want to talk about Miles, about any of it, I’d love to listen. I’m here for you. Always. You and me…we’re more than this thing we’re dancing around.”
She snorts, shaking her head.
I squeeze her hand. “I promised you friendship, Bella. And I meant that. I meant that and more. Let me help you, baby. Talk to me. Trust me.”
She drops her hands slowly, her eyes meeting mine. They swim with hesitation, as if she doesn’t know if she can trust my words. “Really?” Her voice cracks.
I squeeze her hand gently. “Really.” I shift closer, until our thighs press together.
She inhales shakily, her eyes darting up to mine. “We tried to conceive for two years. The day I learned I was pregnant was the happiest of my life. I’ve never seen Jerry look so happy.”
My stomach twists at the mention of her ex. Knowing how much their divorce wrecked her, I can imagine how this tragedy devastated their marriage. But I hate to think that in the aftermath, he couldn’t hold her together the way she needed. I hate that she’s had no one in her corner for so long, and suddenly, I’m resentful toward this guy I don’t even know for not being enough for her. Resentful and relieved that he’s no longer in the picture. The realization messes with my mind and I shut it down, wrapping my arm around Bella’s shoulders as she continues.
“We didn’t know if we’d have more kids so we wanted to keep the sex a surprise. I bought everything in creams and whites. Soft yellows and greens. It took me months to decorate the most perfect nursery. But I loved every second of it. When I went into labor, we knew it was early. But still, I wasn’t worried. I was nearly thirty-four weeks. I called my parents on the way to the hospital and I was nervous but excited. I wasn’t freaking out or…scared. Not the way I should have been.
Everything happened quickly after that. I was rushed into a delivery room. The doctor performed an emergency C-section, a team of doctors rushed in. Everyone swarming around. Jerry’s hand in mine went limp and I remember asking to see my baby. You had a son, someone said. A boy! I smiled at Jerry who looked stricken and that’s when I knew. Why wasn’t he crying? Why weren’t they p
lacing him against my chest for skin to skin?” Tears slip onto her cheeks and roll slowly to her chin, before dropping to her shirt. “It was the worst moment of my life on what I thought was going to be the best day. They let me hold him afterwards. He was so small, so fragile.” She shakes her head, her tears coming harder now. “That day broke me. I wasn’t the same afterwards. Neither was Jerry. And no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t get back what we once had. Maybe we didn’t even want to anymore…” She pauses, swiping her tongue over her bottom lip. “Today guts me every single year.”
I hold her firmly against my side, turning my head to kiss the top of hers. “You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“You’re also one of the most giving,” I continue. “To surround yourself with children, to lose yourself in their lives the way you do. That’s more than just strong, Bella. That’s brave. Courageous.”
“Maybe,” she says slowly, looking up at me. Her eyes still leak tears, her cheeks streaked, but she looks beautiful. Real. “But I don’t want to be brave, James. I want to be whole. I want a family. I want to be a mother.”
Her words, that confession, make my soul ache. I look at her and see all the parts she buried, all the pieces she doesn’t believe in anymore. We sit together for a long time. Our conversation ebbs and flows, our broken dreams and spoiled plans spilling out through words, knowing glances, comforting touches. It’s after midnight when I walk Bella up the stairs to her bedroom.
For the first time since I helped her move in, I cross the threshold and pull back her duvet cover. She slips between the sheets and I tuck her in. She watches me, her face lined in exhaustion.
“Sleep, baby,” I whisper, brushing her hair away from her face. “It’s time to sleep.”
Her eyes flutter closed and I wait, running my fingers through her hair, until her breathing evens out and sleep claims her.
Then, I head to my own room but sleep doesn’t come easily for me. Bella’s heartache twists my gut and offers a fresh perspective.
I’m not the only person in the world suffering from loss. I’m not the only one swimming in grief. On the days that I’ve shut down, she’s stepped up.
Now, I need to step up for her.
8
Bella
“Morning, Bella,” James greets me easily the next morning when I come in from my run.
I pushed myself today, the emotional hangover of yesterday leaving me restless when it should have left me drained. Even now, after ten miles that felt like two, I can’t stop the pounding in my mind, the tremble in my hands. I have a session with Dr. Carlisle before lunch and it can’t come soon enough.
James pours me a mug of coffee and fixes it just the way I like—two sugars, no milk—before placing it down in front of me. He’s rocking a black tank top that show off his biceps and grey sweats.
I try not to check him out too hard but…I’m only human. There aren’t many dads who look like James Ryan and if his bod could be the new dad bod standard, well…
“How was your run?” he asks, leaning over the island while I pick up the coffee mug and take a sip.
The strong taste centers me and diffuses some of the emotional overload I suffer from following any anniversary dates. “Not bad.”
“Liar.”
I snort. “Thanks for listening last night.” I meet his eyes, letting him read how much his sincerity meant to me. James stayed up late while I sobbed and shared all about sweet Miles.
I don’t know if it’s because he understands the heart-wrenching depth of a loss like mine but confiding in James was a hell of a lot easier than talking to my parents, or Colton, or Selina. The words flowed from my mouth, torrents of rambling I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to. Not last night when I almost wished Jerry would call me just so I could remember Miles with someone who loves him as deeply as I do.
But Jerry didn’t call. James stepped up to the plate, pulled me into his arms, and listened for more hours than he needed to.
What’s more is I wanted him to. I needed the time, attention, and concern, from someone who would truly understand. I needed him. Last night shifted something between us and I smile, because I don’t want to go back. I like having James Ryan in my corner; I like having a man in my life that I can count on. Confide in.
He studies me for a beat, his expression soft. “I’ll listen anytime, Bella. I mean that. I’m always here for you, okay?”
I nod, taking another gulp of coffee. The strange thing is, I believe him. Of course I can call up Colton or Selina and they’d listen. But not the way James tuned in to my feelings, to the anguish that twists my soul, to the deep ache that lives inside of me and never truly vanishes.
“I will too,” I murmur back, giving him a serious look.
He smiles and reaches out, his big hand covering my cheek. It’s comforting, the steady weight of him, the knowing that someone will keep me tethered to reality when I feel like I’m drowning in the past. “I know.”
I turn into his touch, pressing a kiss against his palm, and the kitchen shrinks. The space presses in on me, along with a lack of oxygen. James feels it too because a desperation sweeps his eyes, turning them black.
My mouth parts as his thumb brushes over my cheekbone, his fingers wrapping around my neck. His eyes drop to my lips, lingering for a beat too long, a beat I want to lose myself in.
I don’t want professional anymore. I don’t want friendly and neutral and platonic. I want James Ryan. All of him. The messy, the complicated, the solemn. Since living under his roof, my flicker of attraction has fanned into a flame of desire. One that is curious, excited, and hopeful.
Suddenly, I want nothing more than for James to close the space between us and kiss me. I want him to taste my lips with the same intensity that he listened to my hurts. I want him to drag his mouth along the curve of my jaw and I want to slide my hands under his shirt and press my palm against his heart.
“Daddy!” Milly shrieks, bolting down the stairs.
James pulls away immediately and my spine snaps ramrod straight. Even though we weren’t doing anything wrong, I feel my cheeks burn and drop my head to sip my coffee.
Milly scurries into the kitchen, talking a million miles a minute about a squirrel she saw outside her bedroom window. James grins at her and picks her up in a hug. He plops her down on the kitchen island and pours her a smoothie.
“Drink this and wake your brother up. I’m taking you to school today.”
“You are?” Milly and I ask at the same time.
“I am,” he repeats, kissing Milly on the forehead before helping her back to the floor. She runs back in the direction she came, bellowing for her brother.
“You don’t have to—” I start but James cuts me off.
“Take a shower. Get dressed. After I drop off the kids, let’s go get breakfast.”
My eyebrows nearly fly off my face. Did he just read my thoughts?
James laughs at my reaction. “C’mon, let’s mix things up today.”
I bite my bottom lip, studying his expression. Am I reading too much into this? My heart races as I grip the handle of my mug. “Don’t you have practice?”
He smiles at me, the little notch in his chin flaring. “Not until this afternoon. I already got a workout in in the basement. You had a shit day followed by a rough night, don’t deny it.”
I shrug, not bothering to refute him since I know he’ll see through me. It’s the worst club to belong to—the grieving family member—but once you’re in it, you see a lot more than club outsiders could possibly notice.
“Let me take you to breakfast. I never got to properly apologize for acting like a dick at the hospital.”
“You were worried about Mason.”
“True, but I never should have taken it out on you,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, Bella.”
I look up, my mouth falling open for an entirely different reason. The fact
that James can acknowledge when he’s wrong and apologize for it blows my mind. Years of marriage to Jerry taught me not to expect much in terms of making past wrongs right. But—“Thank you, James.”
“So, breakfast?” he asks hopefully, lifting an eyebrow.
“I’d love that,” I say, smiling back. We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, the shadows shifting into something hopeful, ringed in promise.
“Good.”
Milly and Mason stumble down the stairs.
“A herd of elephants,” James mutters under his breath, pouring Mason a smoothie. “Go on.” He tips his head toward the stairs. “Go take some time for yourself.”
“Have a great day at school, guys,” I tell the twins as I pass them.
Mason frowns and Milly reaches for my arm. I stop and smile down at them but both of their expressions are wary.
“Are you sick?” Milly asks.
“What?” I laugh, shaking my head. “No, silly. Why?”
Mason’s frown eases but Milly still watches me intently.
“Why aren’t you taking us today?” she asks.
“Because I wanted to do the honors,” James slips in smoothly, redirecting their attention. “And I begged and pleaded with Bella to let me be on carpool duty today. You know what?”
“What?” Mason asks.
“She made me arm wrestle her for it!”
Milly smacks a hand over her mouth, stifling her laugh.
Mason glances at me. “Dad won?”
I grin at their playfulness. “No way, dude. I won.” I flex an arm. “Can’t you tell? Your daddy can’t beat this!” I make another pose and the twins burst into giggles.
James snickers, winking at me.
“Since your dad is such a sore sport I told him he could take you anyway.” I pause at the doorway and turn back to point at them. “But only today, you hear?”
They both nod and climb up onto the barstools, peppering their father with questions.
I turn back to the stairs and make my way toward my bedroom. I step into the shower, the hot water easing some of the tension I carry in my shoulders and neck.