Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
She was much bigger now, and with every day she became more beautiful. She’d gotten her cast off a few days prior, and I knew she’d been happy to have the last reminder of her accident gone. For me, it was seared into my brain.
“Things between you seem good,” Rowan observed.
My best friend had been slowly warming back up to me. Our relationship was almost back to normal. Everyone else, being all of Fiona’s posse, was a little warier. Tina had taken me aside and informed me that she’d relieve the balls from my body in the most painful way possible if I pulled that shit again.
They were all waiting for me to fuck up again. For me to let her down. I didn’t blame them. And I liked that Fiona had friends who would do that for her.
“Yeah,” I agreed with Rowan. I was not only fucking my wife, but I was now sleeping in her bed. Sleeping in our bed.
The baby’s nursery was done, thanks in large part to my mother. In hindsight, I was glad she came. I’d been too busy thinking about winning Fiona back, worrying about her, then fucking her ever since she’d come into my room at midnight, that I hadn’t really thought about the specifics of what the future held. Like a nursery. Like strollers. Like what kind of bedside bassinet we were going to have for the first few months of the baby’s life.
Even though this technically wasn’t my first child, this was my first time going through all of this. I was ignorant to things like changing tables and car seats. It made guilt burn hot in my belly, regret crawl up my throat, and me curse myself all over again for not being there for Gabbie when she was pregnant.
My mother had been, at least. And her own parents. That’s what I’d told myself then. That’s how I’d lived with myself.
“She forgiven you?” Rowan asked.
I took a pull of my beer, thinking of the last few weeks, thinking of her trying to cook me dinner.
“Mostly,” I replied. “Which is more than I deserve.”
He clapped me on the back. “What you deserve is right there.” He nodded to Fiona.
“I’m not gonna agree with you on that,” I said. “But I’m gonna keep her. Keep them. Give them a life they deserve.”
Rowan nodded once. “It’s all we can do.”
We were silent for a couple of beats as I mused on the thing I’d been ruminating on since that day in the hospital.
“She had an ex who used to lay hands on her,” I said, still watching as Fiona squealed with laughter while Ana crawled on top of her. “After she had miscarriages. He pushed her down the stairs.” I gripped my bottle harder, not taking my eyes off Fiona’s smile, having to see it for myself because I couldn’t quite believe it. Couldn’t quite believe her. All the shit she went through, all the shit she still struggled with, you couldn’t tell it by looking at her. It didn’t dull her smile or darken her gaze.
Rowan was watching my wife, too, when I was brave enough to take my eyes off her. His face was impassive, but his nostrils flared, his mouth turned down. He was fond of Fiona, too, and whether or not Nora had already told him this information, me saying it out loud bothered him.
Not as much as it bothered me.
“Keeps me up at night,” I said, eyes going back to Fiona. “Thinking about him. On another continent. Living his life when he shouldn’t. Breathing when he shouldn’t.”
Since the second Fiona told me, I’d considered getting on a plane to kill him with my bare hands. I already knew where he lived. Some fucking mansion in Sydney. Married again. Rich as fuck. Family money.
Rowan and I had acquired certain skills while we were deployed, and we’d made certain connections. Connections with people who did not retire in Maine like we did. No, they got in even deeper with Uncle Sam, did all sorts of shit that the public was blissfully unaware of.
I still hadn’t ruled out a little trip Down Under. But that would mean I would have to leave Fiona. No way was I doing that while she was pregnant. But the thought of being on another continent from my wife and daughter filled me with anxiety too. The last time I’d done that, it hadn’t ended well.
And Fiona was waiting for that. For me to leave. I could see her bracing for it, not fully giving herself to me. Not fully trusting me. She didn’t talk about the future. She skirted around it. And that was on me.
“Who would it help?” Rowan asked me.
I looked at my friend.
“Who would killing him help?” he clarified. “She’s created a life far away from him, has thrown herself into it.” He nodded at Fiona. “Sure, I can say she’ll never forget him, never fully heal, but she’s not a woman who will let a man like that hold power over her.”