Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I’m devastated,” he said, his words quiet. “I’m…I’m shitty. Horrible.”
“But you said—” I began to argue.
“Sarai, you were barely talking, baby,” he said gently, his words choked. “You were barely living. Who would take care of you if I lost it?”
“What?” I said in disbelief, my nose stinging as my eyes started to water.
“One of us had to be okay,” he said. “It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”
“No, it’s not,” I said.
“I’m your husband,” he said, his voice wobbly. “That’s my most important job.”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I stared at him. I’d been so sad, so wrapped up in my own feelings, that I hadn’t realized what it was doing to him. How had I been so blind to it? I’d watched him smile at my aunt and uncle, knowing how uncomfortable he was, but I’d been completely oblivious when he’d acted okay in front of me. I hadn’t even bothered to search below the surface.
“I thought you didn’t care,” I whispered hoarsely. “I thought you were fine.”
“You’re my life,” he said simply. “I’m sad about our baby, and I loved it, but you’re still here, and I needed to take care of you. I couldn’t lose you, too.”
“I’m so sorry,” I choked out.
“Sarai,” he breathed, reaching across the bed to cup my cheek in his hand. “I love you. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
The sobs burst out of my throat no matter how hard I tried to contain them.
“Shit,” Alex said, crossing the wide expanse of the bed to take me in his arms. “Don’t cry, baby.”
“You just kept saying you were fine,” I said in confusion, my lips brushing against his chest. “You just kept saying it, and I was drowning. I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, why I couldn’t move past it.”
“No,” he said, his hand rubbing firmly up and down my back. “God, no. I was so disappointed. I was so upset that we lost our baby. I just…” He shook his head, his beard rubbing against the top of my head. “You needed me, so I just…” He couldn’t seem to find the words.
“You pretended like you were fine,” I whispered, my stomach clenching at how horrible that must have been for him.
“I didn’t pretend,” he said. “Not exactly. I just—I don’t know—ignored it, I guess. Pushed it down, put it in a box, and kept going.”
“I needed you.” I hated to put that on him. It wasn’t fair and I knew it, but I had to get it out. “I needed you to be with me. I needed you to be in bed with me in the dark. I needed you to feel it, too.”
“I was there,” he whispered. “You didn’t see me, but I was right there.”
“I thought I was all alone,” I whimpered.
“You weren’t,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. “I was with you the whole time.”
* * *
We were physically and emotionally exhausted by the time we arrived at Alex’s parents’ house the next night. By unspoken agreement, when we’d woken up that morning, we’d stopped talking about all the wounds that were still open and raw. Instead, we just drove in companionable silence for most of the day, listening to music and holding hands across the seat.
I think we both needed time to adjust and reflect on the revelations we’d dealt with the night before. We were careful of each other, more considerate than we’d ever been, and finally fully conscious of each other’s pain.
As we drove up Liz and Dan’s winding driveway, Alex rolled down his window and hung his arm outside, letting the rain soak him.
“The rain,” I said quietly, staring out the windshield as the house came into view. “It’ll take some getting used to.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll figure it out together.” He rolled up his window and sent me a small smile. “We’re home.”
I remembered thinking the last time I was there that I’d never want to live somewhere so secluded. As I stared out at the warmly lit house and surrounding trees, a sense of peace filled me. The same seclusion that had seemed so unappealing before comforted me now.
I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up as Alex opened my door, and I followed him as he jogged to the porch.
I couldn’t help but grin at Liz through the open door, her smile was so bright.
“Get inside—it’s freezing out there,” she ordered with a wave of her hand.
The house was just as warm and inviting as I remembered.
“I’m so glad you’re here, sweetheart,” she murmured as she gave me a long hug. “How was the drive? Long and boring?”
“It was okay,” I said, letting Alex help me take my sweatshirt off. “I’ve never seen so much of the US.”
“It was long and boring,” Alex joked. “She’s putting a nice spin on it, though.”