“I know this isn’t easy for you and I’m aware of the strain I’m putting on my friends. Calla is running around like a blue-arsed fly trying to look after everyone, yet she needs time to grieve too. There’s nothing I want more than to give her time to cope and absorb what’s happened. I want to help her take care of Ash and have time to rest, especially with two babies on the way and Zoe to occupy. With everything inside me, I wish I could help with all of that, but... but I can’t. I can’t do it, Tommy.”
He pulls back, gripping my shoulders. “Nobody expects anything from you, Angie. Me and the boys are here to help with whatever you, Calla, or Ash need.”
“And I appreciate what you’re saying, but that’s my problem. I want you to help Ash and Calla. They need you, but I don’t need anything or anyone other than Scott and nobody can bring him back.” Then I whisper, “I don't know how to be here without him.”
Tommy hugs me close to his chest and I hear his heart beating so fast. I guess he doesn’t know what to say.
“I’ve shocked you.”
He takes a second before he replies. “I’m worried about you, yeah. We're all worried about you.”
I hug Tommy close. “This is the way I feel, Tommy. I can’t lie about it.”
There’s no one else I can talk to about this and I include Calla and Ash when I say that. Our worlds are so closely woven together; it would hurt them too much. Tommy is separate and not so emotionally involved. Why not get this out of my system and confide in him?
On a whispered, shaky breath, I spill the question in myhead. “What is the point of going on without him, Tom? What is the point?”
He steps away, grabs a kitchen stool, then with his hands back on my shoulders, he guides me to sit down. Tommy crouches in front of me and searches my eyes. “Listen to me. You have so much to live for and I think, deep down, you know this.”
“You mean our—.” My words get stuck in my throat with each sob. I wish I could stop crying, but I can’t. His thumb attempts to brush away my tears, but they’re falling too quickly.
I swallow hard and run the palm of my hand over my stomach. “I talk to our baby, you know, and I try to be positive, but when I think about how things are going to be, I feel crushed. Being a single parent was not part of the plan; we were doing this together.”
“And you still can,” Tommy says, bringing my focus back to him, but then I close my eyes and shake my head.
“How? I don’t understand.” Is he being ridiculous or hopeful?
“Don’t you see how lucky you are?”
“Of course I do. Our baby is the only piece of him I have left. This is his last gift to me, but it doesn’t stop this fear I have of doing this alone.”
His fingers lift my chin slightly. “You are the most fearless and resourceful person I know. You can still bring this baby up just the way you and Scott wanted. You can do everything you set out to do for your son or daughter. Few people get to keep such a precious part of someone they love. You need to take care of this little one. Your baby is going to save you, Angie.”
My tears are uncontrollable, but Tommy doesn’t give up on me for a second.
“It’s okay to cry. Losing Scott is still raw, but you can do it. I know you can, and you have us, remember? Just take a step back and take your time. Just give yourself time.”
I’m so grateful for his beautiful words, his patience, and his kindness. I hope I can make it, for the sake of our baby. I hope there is a time when the pain stops, but for now, I can’t ever imagine moving forward.
CHAPTER FOUR
TOMMY
Sleep has not beenmy friend since arriving back in New York three days ago. Max and I are here on band business, as well as personal, but jet lag is kicking my butt with no time to catch up. Our flight back to the UK leaves in a few hours.
I watched the morning sunrise through my window while I tried to process the events of the last couple of weeks. Now, as I stare into thin air, my mind overflows. The buzz of my phone on the bedside cabinet catches me out. Chelsea’s arm hangs limp across my chest, and she groans at the sound but doesn’t wake. Not even when I answer the call.
“Hey, Max,” I whisper with a croak. “What’s up?”
“You sound like shit. Did I wake you?” he asks.
Sliding my arm from underneath her, I shift out of bed, trying not to rock it too much.
“Nah. I was up.” I take the phone from my ear and glance at the time. “When are you coming over?”
“In an hour.”
“Shit.”
