My mother nodded in agreement, and I was equally annoyed and proud that the two of them were teaming up on me.
“I know she is. She gets that from you,” my mother accused.
David grabbed hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “All right, you two. She just graduated college—let’s give her a little time.”
I smiled a thankful smile to David, and he winked, kissing my mother’s hand again. He was so gentle with her, and I appreciated that.
TWO YEARS AFTER THAT
HARDIN
WE HAD BEEN TRYING to get pregnant for over a year now. Tessa knew the chances. I knew the odds were against us, like they always had been, but we still hoped. We hoped through fertility appointments and hoped through ovulation schedules. We fucked and fucked and made love and made love every chance we could get. She tried the most ridiculous wives’ tales, and I drank some bittersweet, chunky concoction that Tessa swore worked for her friend’s husband.
Landon and his wife were expecting a baby girl in three months, and we were the godparents of little Addelyn Rose. I wiped Tessa’s tears from her cheeks as she helped plan the baby shower for her best friend, and I pretended not to be sad for us while we were helping paint Addy’s nursery.
It was a normal morning. I had just gotten off a call with Christian. We were planning a trip for Smith to come visit us for a few weeks in the summer. He disguised the call as that, but he really was trying to pitch an idea to me. He wanted me to publish another book with Vance, an idea that I liked but pretended not to. I just wanted to fuck with him and pretend that I was waiting for a better offer.
Tessa came bursting through the door, still in her sweats. Her cheeks were red from the cold March air, and her hair was wild from the wind. She was returning from her usual walk down to Landon’s apartment, but she seemed rushed—panicked, even—making my chest tighten.
“Hardin!” she exclaimed as she crossed the living room and walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were bloodshot, and my heart sank to the floor.
I stood, and she held a hand up, signalling me to wait a moment.
“Look,” she said, digging into the pocket of her jacket. I waited silently and impatiently for her to open her hand.
A small stick was there. I had seen too many false tests in the last year to think anything of it, but from the way her hand was shaking and the way her voice cracked when she tried to speak, I knew immediately.
“Yeah?” was all I could say.
“Yeah.” She nodded, her voice small but full of life. I looked down at her, and she lifted her hands to my face. I hadn’t even felt the tears there until she wiped them.
“You’re sure?” I said like an idiot.
“Yes, obviously.” She tried to laugh but she broke into happy tears, and so did I. I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her onto the counter. I laid my head on her stomach and promised that baby that I would be a better father than either of mine had ever been. Better than anyone had ever been.
TESSA WAS GETTING READY for our double date with Landon and his wife, and I was flipping through the pages of one of the many bridal magazines Tessa left hanging around the apartment when I heard the sound. A nearly inhuman sound.
It came from the bathroom connected to our bedroom, and I jumped to my feet, rushing toward the door.
“Hardin!” Tessa said again. This time I was at the door, and the anguish in her voice was thicker than the first time she called for me.
I pushed the door open and found her sitting on the floor next to the toilet.
“Something’s wrong!” she cried out, holding her small hands over her stomach. Her panties were on the floor. Blood covered them, and I gagged, unable to speak.
I was on the floor next to her in seconds, holding her face between my hands.
“Everything will be fine,” I lied to her, reaching into my pocket and grabbing my phone.
The tone of our doctor’s voice on the line and the knowing look in Tessa’s eyes confirmed my worst nightmare.
I carried my fiancée to the car, and I died a little each time she sobbed during that long, long drive to the hospital.
Thirty minutes later, we had an answer. They were gentle when they told us Tessa had lost the baby, but that didn’t stop the splintering pain that shot through me every time I looked at the complete devastation in Tessa’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, so sorry,” she cried into my chest after the nurse left us alone in the room.
I brought my hand under her chin and forced her to look up at me. “No, baby. You have nothing to be sorry for,” I told her over and over. I gently pushed her hair back from her face and tried my best not to focus on the loss of the most important thing in our lives.
When we got home later that night, I reminded Tessa how much I loved her, how amazing a mother she would be someday, and she cried in my arms until she fell asleep.
I wandered down the hall after I knew she wouldn’t wake. I opened the closet in the nursery and dropped to my knees. It had been too early to know the sex of our baby, but I had been collecting little things over the last three months. I kept them here in bags and boxes, and I needed to see them one last time before I disposed of them all. I couldn’t let her see this. I wanted to shelter her from seeing the tiny yellow shoes Karen had mailed us. I would get rid of all of it and take the crib apart before she woke up.
The next morning, Tessa woke me up by wrapping her arms around me. I was on the floor of the empty nursery. She didn’t say anything about the removal of the furniture or the empty closet. She just sat there, on the floor with me, her head resting on my shoulder and her fingers tracing over the ink on my arms.