“I’m so sorry.” She repeats the words over and over as she clings to me. Then again, I think it’s me who’s clinging to her. I cry for my late wife and all that she’s missing with our daughters. I cry for my daughters, who will never know the incredible woman who gave them life. I cry for me and the loss of that love. It’s cathartic because for all the times I’ve broken down, this time is different. This time I have Laken here with her arms around me. It’s her perfect embrace that brings me back to now.
Back to her.
“Laken.”
“I’m here.”
She’s comforting me for the loss of my wife, and all I want to do is tell her how much her being here means to me. I want to tell her how much she means to me, and suddenly, time means nothing. If I’ve learned anything by losing Holly, it’s that tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for any of us. I refuse to go another day with her, not knowing what she means to me.
“I love you.” She sucks in a sharp breath but doesn’t say anything. “I love you for the kind, loving woman that you are. I love you for understanding my life situation. I love you for the way you treat my daughters. I love you for your heart, and I hope like hell you’ll let me love you forever.”
She’s quiet for far too long, and I’m ready to tell her that it’s okay if she’s not there yet, but I need her to know, but then she kisses me. It’s just a quick peck, followed by “I love you too, Grayson.” Her voice is husky from what I expect are her own tears. “I love you too,” she says again.
I pull her into my embrace, as close as I can get her. My heart is full.
I will miss Holly every day of forever and will always love her, but it’s Laken who I’ll be growing old with.
I send up a silent prayer that that wish comes true.
Chapter 19
Laken
Giggles. Little girl giggles. It’s not Grayson’s alarm that wakes me up, but the sound of his daughters as they giggle their way into his room. I open my eyes to find two sets of green eyes so much like their father’s staring back at me.
“Waken!” Their faces light up when they see me.
“Shh, Daddy’s still sleeping.” Carefully, I slide out from under Grayson’s arm and slip out of bed. The girls each grab a hand with the intention of pulling me out of the bedroom. “Let me use the potty, and then we’ll start breakfast.”
“Okay. You can use ours,” they offer.
“Thank you, but my stuff is here.” I point to my bag. “Remember, be quiet. Daddy’s still sleeping. We’ll make him breakfast in bed.”
“Okay,” they whisper back before turning and racing out of the room, the sound of their little feet a pitter-patter on the hardwood floor.
Stepping around the bed, I turn off the alarm and see the girls only woke me up ten minutes sooner than the alarm. Slipping into the bathroom, I handle my business, wash my hands, and brush my teeth. Thankfully, my toothbrush is still sitting on the sink where I left it when I was getting ready for bed. My eyes are red from the tears I shed last night, but my smile is also present. Grayson told me he loved me.
I was speechless at first, but when I finally was able to form words, I told him I loved him too. It was a hard, emotional night, but I feel closer to him than ever. Those details of his wife’s death were his to keep, yet he shared them with me. I’m not naïve enough to think that no one in town ever got word of all of the details. However, I’m glad they didn’t spill them. It’s good to know that even Tate, the town gossip, has some compassion when it comes to the situation. That was three years ago, and Tate would have just been graduating from high school. Maybe she hadn’t started the blog yet? I’m not sure, but either way, I’m glad the details were never leaked.
Quietly, I step out of the bathroom. Grayson is still sleeping peacefully. I want to crawl back into bed and cuddle with him, but I have two little girls who are eager to make breakfast with me. That trumps cuddle time.
When I make it to the kitchen, the girls are both sitting on the island. “How did you two monkeys get up there?”
“The chairs,” they say together.
“You know you need to be careful so you don’t fall.”
“We know,” they reply.
“All right, so pancakes. Let’s do this, ladies.”
The girls are rather helpful when it comes to reminding me where everything we need is in the kitchen. Luckily, I find a box of pancake mix, and they so helpfully told me that their daddy doesn’t make them with lots of stuff like their Nana. I’m assuming that means that either Jackie or Christine, possibly both, make the pancakes from scratch. I’m with Grayson. Let’s go with quick, easy, and delicious.