One to Take (One to Hold 8)

I wonder if he’s speaking from experience. The waitress is back with a busboy, setting plates of burgers in front of each of us and an order of poutine in the center of the table. She gives me another little wink, but I look away.

Bill keeps going. “I told you before. You’re not your father. You’re all you, and the choices you make now are yours.” He takes a moment, tilts his Pepsi to the side, and adds, “In the same way, Mariska’s not your mom. I might be overstepping, but I think you need to hear this. In all their time together, I never once saw your parents share what you and Mariska have.”

His words twist the cramp in my stomach, and I lean forward on my elbow, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s too late. I’ve lost her.”

“Do you believe in the love you shared?”

“Of course.” It was the happiest time of my life. Mariska healed my body, and she filled the emptiness in my chest—the same emptiness that aches for her now.

“Then it’s never too late.”

Somehow his words form the combination I need. My choices are mine. It’s never too late. Believe… Lifting my chin, I meet his leveled gaze.

He gives me a nod. “Man up and go get her.”

The pain slips as the faintest spark of possibility takes hold. I lower my elbow and sit straighter, knowing what I have to do.

“I’ll finish up the rest of the chores this week, then I’m going back to Princeton.”

Bill smiles and takes a bite of his jalapeño burger. “That sounds like a good plan.”

* * *

Mariska

My eyes are swollen and heavy the next morning. I roll onto my side, and cool air sweeps across my shoulders. I don’t want to look at what I’ve done. I stretch across my bed, grab my phone, and punch up Kenny’s number. She answers on the third ring.

“What’s up?” Her voice is thick with sleep, and I check the time.

“It’s after nine, did I wake you?”

She makes a loud noise like she’s stretching. “It’s Saturday. Why do I have to be awake by nine?”

“You’re not working today?” Hope rises in my chest. “I need your help.”

By ten, I’m at her apartment dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved black tee. “I tried to cut it myself, but I kind of butchered it.”

I leave off the part where I then had an emotional meltdown. My arms and legs feel weak like I did a strenuous workout, but at least my eyes are less puffy.

She frowns and holds up the ends of my hair. “It looks like you sawed it off with broken glass.”

“My scissors are dull.” Lowering my chin, I wish I’d left a few extra inches to cover my face.

Kenny drops onto the chair in front of me, her blue eyes drilling into mine. “When are you going to tell me what happened? I’ve been waiting and waiting, but my patience is up.”

Slayde is in Princeton, so it’s only the two of us in the apartment. With a deep breath, I decide I’m too tired to carry this burden any longer.

“I was pregnant.” The words squeeze at my heart, wringing out all the pain fresh and hot.

Her eyes widen, filling with tears. “Was? As in… past tense?”

I blink down, and a tear falls onto my cheek. I wipe it away quickly.

“Oh, god, Mariska.” In one swift move, we’re in a hug.

I press my forehead against her shoulder, and for a little while we inhale shaky breaths as tears coat our faces. My chest rises and falls, and I shudder as the pain drains out. She gives me a squeeze then sits back, wiping her cheeks with her hands.

“I don’t know what to say.” She reaches forward and holds my hands. “What happened? Why didn’t I know?”