“I drove all the way over here, are you going to tell me what happened?” His brows knit with concern. “I can’t take it anymore.”
I sigh. “Can I eat first?”
“I guess.” My dad holds up his hands.
I take a bite, chewing thoughtfully, and look at him still watching me.
“He knows,” I say softly. “About the baby.”
“Oh,” my dad says carefully. “He didn’t take it well, I guess?”
“Well, no. Because I didn’t get to tell him. He found my old letter snooping through my drawer. We fought. It got ugly. He said he needed time.” I shrug, taking another bite. It’s amazing how food can make things better, even temporarily.
“He’ll come around.” My dad pats my hand and picks up his own sandwich.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” I scoff. “Aren’t you supposed to impart some relationship wisdom on me?”
“Honey, if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been divorced and alone for twenty-five years. Longer than I was married to your mother. I’ve got wisdom. It’s just more of the ‘don’t marry your high school sweetheart just because she likes your car’ variety.” My dad takes a large bite, watching me carefully as he chews.
He has a point. I just thought maybe he’d have something a bit more comforting to say.
“I just feel like everything is ruined,” I mutter, looking down at my half-eaten sandwich.
“He’s just digesting information, Melly. He’ll figure it out and come crawling back.” My dad nods. “Like when your mother told me about her affair, I needed time to digest it. But we stuck it out. We stayed together.”
I stare blankly at him. “You hated each other. It would’ve been better if you split up right then.”
He tips his head back and forth in thought. “Yeah, I guess that’s a bad example.” He chuckles, and I marvel at the fact that he can laugh about his failed marriage decades later. “Look, my point is, being with someone is a choice. You choose if you want to love someone for better or for worse, despite all that comes with it. If Josh needs time to mourn or to digest something that happened years ago that he’s just finding out about, and he still comes back to you…then you’ll know. He’s choosing you.”
“What if I broke something in him? What if he doesn’t come back?” I whimper, like the little girl I used to be.
My dad squeezes my hand. “That boy has been carrying you around in his chest all these years. He wouldn’t have come back here otherwise. One little secret isn’t going to change that. And if he doesn’t come back? Then he wasn’t ready for the kind of love you have to give.”
My face must fall because my dad pats my arm. “He’ll be back.”
34
JOSH
“Melanie, Mel, stop!” I call uselessly. But Melanie is running away from me, as fast as she can with something bundled in her arms.
I run for my truck, buckling my seatbelt and peeling out of my parking spot after Melanie, but I can’t catch her. She’s running too fast. Then I see him, a kid on a bike. I try to slam on my brakes, but I can’t stop in time. The tires screech as the truck tumbles over an embankment and around a large oak tree. Etched in the tree, inside a heart, are the initials J+M.
“Hey, mister! Mister! Are you okay?” The sound of a boy’s voice calls to me from above. My body radiates pain and stiffness.
I can’t move out of the truck.
In the distance, a baby cries and I see a white light.
“Melanie!” I shout but it’s no use.
I jolt awake, drenched in sweat. My breaths come in rapid pants. I sit up, wiping sweat from my brow, trying to figure out where the hell I am. Then it all comes rushing back to me. Melanie. Our argument. The baby.God, the baby.
I had never really wanted to be a parent. Not that I even thought about it at sixteen. But as time went on, my focus shifted solely to a music career full of sold out arenas, studio time, autographs, and paparazzi. Living my best life with an entourage. Maybe I’m selfish, but nowhere in that fantasy did a wife and family fit. I always assumed I’d settle down with someone, I guess, but I never once pictured kids. Adult Josh knows that most of us guys don’t picture that until we’re in it. I just never got in it so deep with someone that I pictured myself as a father.
And yet, learning of the loss of my own unborn child twenty-five years ago is enough to crush me. I managed to keep it together in front of Liam but as soon as I was alone in Ellie’s guest cottage for the night, I broke down. Sobs wracked my body for the life that might have been—with me, Mel, and our baby. But more than that, it’s the weight of knowing I wasn’t there for her when she needed me most. I know I had no control over that. But I should have seen her before we left. I should have called her.
And last night, I stormed out like a fool, letting my shame and fear of saying the wrong thing drive me instead of my heart. Maybe it was irrational, but the truth is, I’m not angry at Melanie. I’m angry at myself—for all the ways I failed her back then, and for the ways I keep failing her now.
