Page 54 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

He ducks his head to break eye contact and brings his hands to the water's surface. Dragging them back and forth, he collects his thoughts as the water flows through his fingers. Eventually, his eyes return to mine.

“Every day, it still feels surreal. She was never meant to be mine, and then one day, she was.”

My nose stings as my eyes burn.

“One day, she was,” I agree with him. Nothing I say will make him feel any differently about this situation. He feels loss, he feels scared, he feels overwhelmed, but beyond all that, he feels love for this little girl. All she needs from him is love, and she’ll turn out just fine.

“Tell me about this.” My hand drifts his way, and under the water, my fingertips brush the constellation he has tattooed on his side.

“It’s Gemini. Although the word means twins in Latin, which John and I are not, it also represents brotherly love. It has other meanings as well, but my brother . . .” He thinks about him and swallows hard. “He was a high school science teacher, and he loved astronomy. The stars were his thing.”

The stars were his thing. So much his thing that he wanted them permanently branded on his body. Oh, Jonah. Sometimes I have to remind myself that it isn’t just Vivi who experienced the loss; it’s him too. He’s lost so many people in his life.

“That’s why you take Vivi stargazing.”

“Yes. It’s stupid, but it makes me feel closer to him, and by talking about the stars, I’m still giving a piece of him to Vivi.”

“It’s not stupid. Not at all. It’s incredible. Stars, parades, ballet, sea animals, the things I don’t know, I would say you’re giving a lot of them to her.”

He drops his gaze and looks down at his hands. He’s flipped them over and is cupping the water before he spreads his fingers, and it falls through. “Most days, I feel like I’m failing her in every way.”

“Why would you think that?” I turn to face him, and our knees brush.

“I’m not what she needs. She’s different from how she was when they were alive, and I just feel like . . . I’m not enough.” He lets out a deep sigh. His honesty and the vulnerability make me want to wrap him up in my arms.

“Jonah, that’s just not true.” Reaching over, I place my hand on top of his. “And of course she’s different. Who would be the same after that?”

“You don’t understand. I wasn’t ready for this. I was barely getting by myself. That year, I had been released from Carolina. I was working so hard to make this my team, for them to want me past the one-year mark, and then John died. I mean, I’m not so far removed from reality to say that although I was twenty-four, in many ways, I was still a kid myself.

“I’d worked so hard for so long to get where I was, I rarely stopped for fun. I didn’t have the young professional experience that most have in their twenties. Yes, I had money, but all good things must come to an end at some point, and I was trying to be responsible. That night with you, my actions were so far out of my day-to-day character, yet of all the days and nights over the past couple of years, I remember that night with you the most.”

“That night was very out of character for me too, and I also remember it as if it were yesterday.”

Turning his hand over, he laces our fingers together. His hand is so much larger than mine, and I love it.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel so in over my head.” He runs his other hand through his hair. The water forces it to stick up straight and be unruly. His hair, his expressive eyes, and the slightly dejected frown on his face are almost too much, and the need to comfort him is fierce.

“Every night, I lie in bed, stare at the ceiling, and wonder if I’m doing enough for her. Am I making her life worse or better? Am I disappointing them? When we stare up at the stars, I can’t help but wonder if wherever they are, can they see the same stars too?”

Grief is such a heavy emotion. There’s no timeline for how long it lingers or how often it rears its ugly head. People cope in so many different ways. I just hope that, through all the chaos and change, he’s had his moments, too.

“I thought about you over the years. A lot. I was sitting in front of your place on New Year’s Day when I called my uncle back, and he told me about John. For a split second, I thought about running back inside to you, but I couldn’t. I had to go. And going to Vivi was such a hard thing to do, but also the easiest. As much as everything overwhelmed me, I had to be numb at the same time. I had things to do and people who needed me. Funny enough, who I needed was you. I don’t know why, but you were all I wanted.”

He needed me. He wanted me. My eyes now blur with an unmistakable heartache that I didn’t get to be there for him. I would have, too.

“Oh, Jonah. I wish you would have come back inside or at least called me.”

He shakes his head. “We had just met. I couldn’t bring you into the tragedy of my life. It didn’t feel right. So instead, I played our night together over and over and over in my mind. From the dancing, to our first kiss under the fireworks, to what it felt like hearing your laughter and the other sounds you made. Those tiny moments gave me light when I was drowning in the dark.”

I don’t say anything, not that he expects me to, but he sees my eyes are glassy with emotion. I would have been there for him. I could have helped him. Shame ripples through me that I wasn’t woman enough to seek him out and ask why he didn’t show. They say pride is the killer of all good things, and my pride cost Jonah the good that he needed, as well as two years when we might have been together.

“How long has it been since you and that guy ended?” he randomly asks.

“Probably a month.”

“Good.”

“Good?” I laugh.