Behind me, I hear Chase's sharp intake of breath, and a muttered fuck.
"The look on his face when he saw me standing there..." I shake my head, trying to get rid of the memory, the way my stomach drops every single time I think about it. "It wasn't guilt. It was annoyance. Like I'd interrupted something more important than me. Briar tried to cover herself up, saying she was sorry, but Stanley just... he got angry. Started yelling at me about how I had no right to just show up, how we were separated anyway, how what he did was none of my business."
The tears start then, hot and fast, streaming down my cheeks. My hands shake more than they were before, and I grasp them in front of me to keep them level.
"I yelled back. Told him he was a liar, that he'd been sleeping with her probably the whole time we were married. He denied it, but I could see it in his eyes. He had been. She didn't dispute it either, she looked so goddamn guilty."
My breathing is coming faster now, reliving the panic I felt that day.
"We were screaming at each other, and then I felt it. This sharp pain low in my stomach. I doubled over, and Stanley finally stopped yelling. He called 911, but I could barely hear him over the roaring in my ears. The cramping got worse, and by the time the ambulance got there, I was bleeding. There was blood everywhere." I stop for a second, taking in a deep breath. "Briar had at least gotten out of bed and gotten dressed, he'd put on pants, but I was in the floor by myself as the two of them yelled at each other, and to the 911 operator."
I press my forehead against the cold glass, trying to ground myself.
"Premature labor. That's what the doctors called it. They tried everything to stop it, but I was only six months along. The baby was too small, too early. She didn't..." My voice breaks completely. "She didn't make it. Our daughter. We lost her."
The sob that tears out of me is raw and jagged, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself.
"I was in the hospital for three days, recovering from the emergency delivery. Stanley came to see me once, the day before I was discharged. He stood at the foot of my bed, wouldn't even look me in the eye, and told me that the only reason he'd been trying to make things work was because of the baby. Now that there wasn't a baby anymore, there was no reason to keep pretending. He wanted to be with Briar. He'd always wanted to be with Briar. She just didn't admit that she liked him until he and I had gotten married," I give a hollow snort. "So it was their bad timing, and I was collateral damage."
The memory of his words, so cold and clinical while I lay there broken and bleeding, makes me physically sick, again.
"He left me there. Crying in that hospital room, alone, having just lost our child, and he walked away like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing. Like our daughter never even existed."
My knees start to buckle, and suddenly Chase is there. I didn't hear him get out of bed, didn't hear him cross the room, but his arms are around me, strong and warm, holding me together. He turns me away from the window and pulls me against his bare chest, and I completely fall apart.
"He threw me away," I sob into his skin. "Like I was nothing. Like trash. At the most vulnerable moment of my entire life, when I had just lost our baby, he told me he didn't want me. That he'd never really wanted me."
"Paisley," Chase's voice is rough with emotion, his hand cupping the back of my head.
"I blamed myself," I continue, the words pouring out now in a rush. I've never talked about this with anyone, and maybe it's what I've needed. "I thought if I hadn't gone there, if I hadn't gotten upset, if I'd just gone to my apartment, maybe she would have lived. Maybe I could have held on just a little longer. The doctors said the labor wasn't caused just by the stress, that these things just happen sometimes, but I can't stop thinking that if I'd just…"
"No." Chase's voice is firm, and he pulls back just enough to look down at me. His eyes are fierce, blazing with an intensity I'd always hoped to see from Stanley. "No, Paisley. None of that shit was your fault. Do you hear me? Not one single bit of it."
"But…" I argue.
"That motherfucker," Chase cuts me off, his jaw tight with anger, "is a coward and a liar. He didn't deserve you, and he sure as hell didn't deserve that baby. What he did to you? Leaving you like that? That says everything about who he is and nothing about who you are. I can't even begin to imagine leaving my wife like that."
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, hearing his anger.
"I feel so guilty," I whisper. "For being attracted to you, for wanting you, for feeling alive again when my daughter is gone. Like I don't have the right to be happy."
Chase's hands come up to frame my face, his thumbs gently wiping away my tears.
"Your daughter would want you to live," he says softly. "To be happy. To find joy again. You surviving, you moving forward, that's not a betrayal to what you wanted. It's honoring her memory by not letting what happened destroy you completely." He stops for a second. "It's the same for me. My wife would've wanted the same for me too, and maybe me telling you, is also telling myself."
I search his face, looking for any sign of pity or disgust, but all I see is understanding. There's a compassion I never got from anyone else, and attraction that I don't want to let slide.
"I wanted to tell you sooner," I admit. "But I was afraid you'd look at me differently. Like I was damaged or broken."
"You're not broken," he interrupts firmly. "You're healing. There's a difference."
"I don't feel like I'm healing," I admit, my stomach churning as I say the words.
"Healing isn't linear. Some days are going to be harder than others. But you're still standing, Paisley. You're still here. That takes more strength than you know. No one understands how hard it is to keep going when all you want to do is give up."
I lean into his touch, craving the warmth and acceptance he's offering when no one else did.
"Stanley didn't know what the fuck he had," Chase continues, his voice dropping lower. "He was too busy looking at what he thought he wanted to see what was right in front of him. He had a woman who was loyal, who tried to make things work even when they were falling apart, who was willing to be a good co-parent despite everything. And he threw it away. That's not a man. That's a piece of shit who will never be honest. You were never going to know where you were with him, because he was never going to tell you," he reaches out, cupping my cheek. "You deserve more than that."
