Method

“The daily vomiting declares it so. Are you doing okay?”

“Getting better. I got a job down here close to my mom. I just want to wait things out a little longer.”

“If that’s what you need, I’m glad, but are you really okay?”

“No, but I will be one day. And I wait for it every single day.”

“I’m here for you. I hope you know that.”

“Same goes for you.”

“Let’s not lose touch again, okay? No matter what.”

“Deal.”

Ending the call, I change clothes and make my way to the rose garden. It’s a new routine I’ve found solace in since returning from the winery. It keeps me invested in something, keeps my mind focused on my goals. Waiting has always been the hardest part. No matter what role Lucas took on, it’s always been the anticipation of when we could resume our life together that was the hardest. He usually sleeps for a few days, and we take small steps to carry on whatever becomes our new normal. On my knees in the thick of the bushes, I’m unsure of what this normal will bring.

Have we grown apart? Has he changed his mind? Have I?

We’re in pieces because he took this burden on for love of his brother and expected me to understand.

And it took time, but now I do understand, to an extent. It doesn’t mean I don’t deserve answers instead of excuses. It doesn’t mean I can’t be furious he refused to let me in on his plans. After the day he got his star on the Walk of Fame, I decided I would wait for him to come to me. He needs a sort of clarity I’ve been unable to give him, and it’s the perspective my mom gave me that keeps me idle. We have a hell of a lot to fight for, but I can’t do it alone. Though his apologies are sincere, and I know he means them, this isn’t a simple fix. This hurt runs soul deep.

My husband loves me, but he broke my heart in a way I can’t just bounce back from.

These last four months have been a blip on the radar in the map of our relationship, that much is true. That’s what Lucas counted on, my memories of our past, the trust I swore I had in him, the unbreakable bond we built, but expectations like that are unrealistic and lead to failure. Humans are gloriously flawed, and some types of love are never truly unconditional. A lot of my mistake was expecting our love to stay perfect, because a lot of the time, it was. It’s wanting our love even after we’ve seen the imperfections that makes or breaks us.

Pulling my earbuds out, I grip my pruning shears and snap off a half dozen roses for my bedside vase. The simplistic act of gardening has given me momentary peace. I find it ironic that the garden represents our relationship in a way. For the moment, I’m stuck being the lone laborer to something we started. After a few minutes of removing the thorns, I stow away my tools and round the house, coming to a dead stop when I see Lucas standing in front of his Land Rover…crying. He doesn’t see me, so I stand back and watch him. He’s staring at my front door, biting his lips, his face twisted in anguish. His Adam’s apple repeatedly bobs while he bats tears from his face with impatient fingers.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him cry. And his suffering is so palpable that I’m frozen where I stand, witnessing his painful indecision to stay or go. He shakes his head and then looks at the ground before peering back up at the door with fear. He’s breaking, visibly breaking in front of me and it’s draining what’s left of my anger. I grapple with it, keeping what I have left close because I’ll never respect myself again if I go to him without fighting for what I’m worth, for what our child is worth, for what this family is worth, being first.

Stunned by the agony etched on his face, the pain pouring from him, I have to shake myself to propel forward. A groan escapes his lips as he cries openly in front of his truck and the sound cuts me in half, pausing my steps. Gripping his hair, his features twist as another harsh cry escapes him. My heart shatters at my feet when I see the depth of the emotion he’s been hiding.

The second I take a step from the side of his house, his eyes drift over to mine, a breath rushes out of him, and his tears fall more rapidly. His hesitance breaks my heart as he searches my eyes for some sign of acceptance. But he doesn’t clear his face again. For the first time since Blake died, he lets me see he’s broken.

And that’s when I know we’re going to be okay.

He’s overcome as he stares at me, his eyes trailing to my stomach as he swallows air in an attempt to stifle his cries.

I extend the flowers in his direction for his inspection. “These are so beautiful, don’t you think?”

Twin tears streak his cheeks, and he slowly nods, his jade eyes piercing.

“They are all in bloom.” I tilt my head and gesture for him to follow me. “Come see.” He runs a hand along his face and pushes off the hood of the car, following me to the side of the house.

Looking back at him for his reaction, I don’t miss it when he sees just how magnificent the landscape is with the flowers having grown slightly wild. “It’s magical, right? We’ve been missing out on this.”

His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks. “Beautiful.”

“I’ve been working hard out here.”

His raspy voice sounds from right behind me. “I took for granted that they would always be taken care of the way they needed.”

I don’t miss his double entendre, but I’m doing my best not to throw myself into his arms, which I know are waiting. Audrey was right, my love grew right along with my resentment.

I look back at him over my shoulder, trying not to crumble at the helpless expression on his face. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Stop, don’t be kind to me. I don’t deserve it.”