‘I’m sorry.’ Something twists in my gut as she folds herself forward, her hands in her lap, her face covering them.
‘You have nothing to be sorry about.’ I chuck my jacket on the opposite chair and drop to my knee in front of her to rub a few circles of reassurance across her back. The gears in my mind beginning to turn and clank, coming up blank. ‘What is it, babe?’ Under my hand, her body stiffens, and she rapidly shakes her head. But I’m not accepting that shit, either.
I take a seat next to her, pulling her barely resistant form onto my lap. My body cradles hers, her legs bent, feet planted on the sofa cushion to the side as I band my arms around her. I keep up with the circles, though lighter this time, the way I know she likes.
I don’t speak, and I don’t make demands. I just listen to her small, shuddering breaths, her face pressed into my shirt as I accept the cooling effects of her tears breaching my shirt to touch my skin.
Eventually, her breathing evens out. I think maybe she’s gone to sleep—worn herself out. I don’t doubt that’s part of why she didn’t turn up earlier. Exhaustion from tears? But what the fuck has happened and how can I help? How can I fix this? As though privy to my thoughts, she speaks.
‘I saw my ex today. Miles is his name.’
Oh, shit.My heart fucking sinks to the depths of my boots. Anything that causes this much hurt hasn’t been dealt with—the emotion and the pain hasn’t burned itself out. But I still don’t speak. I don’t know what to say, but I feel the implications, the thoughts of her slipping away making me sick.
‘I-I haven’t seen him since we broke up. He said I was u-unstable.’ Her breath catches on the final word, her chest beginning to stutter again.
‘We say a lot of things we don’t mean when we’re hurting. And you already know men are arseholes, right?’
Her laughter is just a consonant sound that breaks free, surprising us both.
‘Thing is, he was right.’
‘Maybe,’ I counter quietly. ‘Love makes us do mad things sometimes.’
‘I was crazy,’ she whispers, her finger reaching out to trace the pocket on my shirt. ‘I we.. . we had,almost had, a baby.’A miscarriage, maybe?
‘How is this something I don’t know?’ I wished I could swallow the words back. What an arsehole. What a selfish prick—what the fuck has it to do with me until she says?
‘No one knows. After we split up, I pretty much cut everyone from that time out of my life. I didn’t have him, and I didn’t have my baby, and he... he’s just moved on. Like nothing happened. I saw him today. He’s married, and he has a family. A beautiful family.’ She shakes her head, her next words seeming apropos of nothing. ‘His son is called Freddie. I think that hurt me more than seeing him. Why does he get to move on and I’m stuck?’
‘You’re not stuck, babe. You’re amazing.’ She doesn’t seem to hear me, or maybe she isn’t listening. ‘Why does this son’s name piss you off?’
‘Because he stole my name,’ she mumbles.
‘I didn’t know you were called Freddie.’ I feel her smile weakly at my words, and as I push the fallen hair from her face, I place my lips on her head.
‘I’ll never be able to use it now,’ she whispers.
‘It’s a pretty shit name, babe. I don’t think I want a son with a name like that.’ My lips freeze on her head as I wonder where that came from.Way to drag out the caveman, Flynn.
‘Why would you call your son Freddie?’ she asks, not latching onto the meaning behind my words—the words that caused a strange sensation in my chest. And those words? They lead to images. Things I’d never thought of until now.
Chastity, her gaze soft and belly swollen. Chastity with our child in her arms.
Fuck.The idea is crazy and exciting. I’ve always wanted kids. I’ve just never—
She twists her head, giving me her swollen eyes and sombre gaze.
‘Are you still in love with him?’ I almost don’t want to ask, apprehensive that I might hear something I’m not ready to hear. But as she shakes her head, I find myself releasing a heavy breath.
‘I’m sorry you lost a baby, and I’m sorry you’ve carried this on your own.’ You’re not alone now. You have me.
‘I couldn’t talk about it,’ she says, her words barely a squeak. ‘Not since. I’ve never told anyone—I was barely pregnant. I’d only just found out. One minute, we were wondering how a baby would fit into our lives, and the next, I was being rushed to surgery.’
‘I’m so sorry, babe.’ I wrap my arms around her and crush her to my chest as though the power of my arms holding her could bear her pain instead. ‘So fuckin’ sorry.’
‘It was an ectopic pregnancy. Emergency surgery. I might’ve died.’
‘Fuck.’ I can’t keep saying I’m sorry, even if I am. ‘You must’ve been terrified. I’m so pleased you didn’t die.’ She huffs out a short laugh again. ‘I mean it, Chastity. I’m out of my fucking head on you. I’d give you a dozen Freddies right now just to see you smile.’ And I would. I haven’t even fucked her today, but the sight of her smile, however weak, shoots my veins with the same endorphins.I’m high on the girl.
