“I rarely ever talked about the accident with anyone,” I confess.
He patiently waits for me to speak, which I appreciate.
Moving my hand to my belly, I release a shaky breath.
“It took almost two hours for first responders to cut me out of the car.” I close my eyes as the memories start to come back. “We were all driving back home from our family date night.” My eyes meet Travis’. “That’s what my dad called them. We went out together every Wednesday.
“One moment we were all talking about how stuffed we were from the pizza we ate for dinner, the next minute my mom’sshrieking in horror. That was the last thing I ever heard my mom do. Scream.”
Travis reaches up and wipes away a tear.
“I was conscious and awake for every moment. I remember it all. My mom’s scream, my dad gasping for breath, yelling for my mom and me but unable to get to us. He begged and cried for the firefighters to pull me out first.”
My throat throbs from the pain of pushing these words and memories out.
In the silence, Travis moves his hand to my tattoo. With the pads of his fingers he presses over the red petals, feeling the scars beneath the coloring.
“My dad bought roses for my mom every week. They were her favorite flowers. My shoulder took the brunt of the crash. My seatbelt held me in place for most of the accident, but it also trapped me in place and I had to be cut out.”
He leans in and kisses my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, pulling me flush against his body … as much as possible with my bump in between us.
“I wish I could erase all of your pain.”
I give him a sad smile. It’s taken years, but I’m learning to accept what is, the here and now.
“You can hold me,” I say to him.
And he does, for the rest of the night.
CHAPTER 40
Alyssia
“Travis?”
I look into the living room from the hallway but don’t see Travis. A glance at the clock on the wall tells me we have about five minutes before our car arrives to take us to the gala.
Tonight is the night of my charity’s gala, and of course, Travis is my date. Or I’m his, since all of the Formula 1 drivers will be there.
On a hunch, I head down the hall to the bedroom we’ve chosen to use as the baby’s nursery. Travis stands in the middle of the room his back to me as he looks down at something in his hands.
“What are you doing?”
He turns to me, and my heart skips a beat at the picture he makes in the black and white tailored tuxedo and sheen in his eyes.
His breath hitches as he looks me over.
“What?”
“You’re wearing my color,” he says, his voice taut, as if being stretched to its limit.
Slowly, methodically, he draws his eyes down the length of my body, soaking in the fire engine red dress that I’ve chosen to wear to tonight’s gala.
The caped sleeve covers my shoulder with the tattoo while the other side leaves my shoulder uncovered.
“You …” He trails off as if words are too much to use right now.
