“Rose has it handled.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” I take a breath. I don’t want to end the call—my God, I miss his voice, the feeling of just being with him—but I’m done being a softie. “Let me know how it goes at the pediatrician’s office, okay? I haven’t stopped thinking about Liam.”
“Okay.”
He sounds so not okay that my heart twists. I do my best to ignore it.
“Bye, Rhett.”
“Bye. No, wait—Amelia, I’m sorry. About being a dick. I was a dick. I am a dick. Yikes, that’s a lot of dicks.”
I’m laughing again, even as I’m hit by a fresh wave of emotion. “I appreciate the apology. Doesn’t change anything.”
“I know,” he replies quietly. “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry. Seems to be the phrase of choice from the men in my life. Always sorry.
I’m sick of hearing those words, so I say, “I should go. See ya.”
He says goodbye, and I hang up. My screen is smeared with tears, and I wipe my phone on the quilt. Tell myself over and over again that not only does his apology not change anything but it also doesn’t mean anything. If he was truly sorry, he’d—
I guess he’d be here. Telling me he’ll make good on his promise to put us first. Me, Liam, and him. He’d show me, somehow, he really is the man I fell in love with. The one who isn’t afraid of the unknown. Of a future he can’t see yet.
Then again, that’s unfair because I still am afraid.
I think about Rose, and I think about my mom. They were probably afraid too, but they always kept going.
Grabbing my laptop and notebook off the nightstand, I decide to keep going too. I probably should get some sleep, but who am I kidding? Even sick as a dog, I’m not going to be able to pass out knowing Liam’s at the doctor’s, and Rhett is . . . well, not here.
So I call for my grandmother. She pulls up a chair beside the bed, and I grab a pen—pink, naturally—and open my notebook to a blank page.
“A fresh page,” Rose says. “You can make it look however you want.”
I manage a smile. “I like that idea.”
“Before we job hunt, let’s brainstorm.” She sits up in her chair, then leans forward, elbows on her knees, her thumbs pressed thoughtfully into her chin. “Tell me what happiness looks like to you. I’m talking big picture stuff. What does your ideal day look like? How does it start? Who do you see, and what do you do? Most importantly: what about it makes you happy? I think the answers to those questions will lead us in the right direction.”
Her words bring me a glimmer of hope.
It may feel like the end of the world right now. But that can change.
I can change that.
So I think, despite the growing throb inside my head, I think, and I talk, and I research. Rose provides gentle guidance as I work my way through some ideas: getting a grad degree. Expanding Head Start programs in the greater Asheville area. Raising money for free programs for preschool-aged kids around town, like the one Emma and I worked on at Blue Mountain Farm.
I love kids. I also love interacting with adults on a regular basis. I love making a difference. I love being outside.
After a while, my stomach begins to hurt, but I blame that on the exhaustion and the stress.
Really, it’s the effort it takes not to include Rhett or Liam in my plan. It physically hurts not to incorporate them into this new version of my life, whatever it ends up looking like.
But I do it anyway. Just because I can’t envision a future without them doesn’t mean I’m doomed.
“Only means you need time,” Rose says. “And patience. You’re learning to trust yourself all over again, Amelia. You’re learning to trust, period. That takes time.”
I drop my pen. “What do you think Mom would do?”
Rose thinks about this for a minute. “Your mother would do what’s right for her. One step at a time.”
So I do what’s right for me, one excruciating step at a time.
And you know what? That glimmer of hope grows the longer Grandma and I talk. Not by much, granted. My stomach and my throat are killing me. But I keep going, and that feels good.
It’s not the first time life’s take an unexpected turn. Which means it’s not the first time I’ve had to figure out what to do when things don’t go to plan.
I can do this. As Rose said, I just need to trust myself.
I know that’s what Mom would want me to do too.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rhett
“Lili want Dada. Dada!”
I startle at the wail. Cracking an eye open, I see my son on the screen. He’s standing up in his crib, face screwed up as he cries.