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Because of the baby, I try to keep my strength up, and I take short walks around the backyard, but I haven’t set foot beyond the grounds of the house.
And I’m not going to.
All of Anita’s gentle coaxing and encouragement simply falls on deaf ears. Because I can’t bear the thought of the outside world without Carter. A part of me believes if I stay here long enough, Carter will eventually come back. Another part of me is horrified at the thought that I’ll step out of the house at the same moment Carter returns.
What if he comes back for me, and I’m not here?
He needs to know that I haven’t abandoned him, and I haven’t given up on us.
Sam takes both of my arms in hers and yanks me to my feet. “You and I both know that’s not true. You’re a fighter, Isabella, and you’re a survivor, so I don’t understand what you’re doing.”
I lean against the nearest well and give Sam an annoyed look. “It’s called grieving.”
“It’s called wallowing in self-pity,” Sam retorts, with a shake of her head. “You can’t actually stay like this hoping Carter is going to come back.”
There’s a low ringing in my ears now. “He is going to come back.”
Sam blows out a breath. “Yeah, but you need to prepare yourself for the other possibility. I’m not trying to be mean—”
“You could’ve fooled me,” I mutter, pausing to push myself off the wall. I shove my overgrown bangs out of my face and level Sam with a pointed look. “I know what you’re really thinking, Sam, so you can go ahead and say it.”
A muscle ticks in Sam’s jaw. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. You think Carter isn’t coming back, and that’s why you’re doing all this.” I make a vague hand gesture to indicate the room being tidied up by Sam before she threw the curtains open. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove here, but I don’t appreciate it.”
Sam throws her hands up in the air. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to save my best friend from herself.”
I frown. “Save me from what? From grieving the loss of my partner and the father of my baby?”
“There’s grieving, and there’s putting your life on hold,” Sam points out after a brief pause. “And I can’t take one more day of you laying there, listening for the sound of his voice. This isn’t good for you, Isabella.”
I stride past her and climb back onto the mattress. “It’s a good thing it’s not up to you then. No one is asking you to be here, Sam.”
Sam gives me a wounded look. “You did. You wanted me here, remember? We’re sisters, Isabella, and I wouldn’t be a very good one if I didn’t point out what you’re doing.”
I get up, pick the covers off of the floor, and unfold them. “You just want to go back to your life with Tristan so the two of you can laugh and shake your heads at how pathetic I am.”
Sam’s expression tightens. “That’s not fair. Tristan and I don’t do that. We’re worried about you.”
I draw the covers up to my chin. “Well, don’t be. I’m not a baby, and I don’t need you two hovering over me.”
Especially Tristan.
He knows exactly where Carter is, and he’s refusing to tell me. And I can’t look at him without feeling the urge to sink to my feet and beg him for something. Anything to let me know that the man I love still loves me.
But it’s like banging against a steel door. No matter how many times or how many ways I come up with to soften his resolve, Tristan isn’t budging. And I’m terrified of being angry at him and Sam and Anita.
I don’t want to be angry at the world all the time. And I’m tired of being sad, but what other choice do I have? Living without Carter isn’t something I know how to do.
Every morning, when I wake up, I reach across the bed for Carter, and I wait for the familiar smell of him to fill my nostrils. And each morning, when I open my eyes and Anita’s guest bedroom swims into focus, I realize all over again that I’ve lost him.
I have no idea if he’s coming back.
If it weren’t for the baby I’m carrying inside of me, I’m not sure what I would do, but I don’t think I’d be sitting around Anita’s, hoping and waiting.
Because Carter has made it clear that he doesn’t miss me at all. Not a single phone call or a message since he left, and I’m dutifully waiting at his aunt’s.
I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore, but the alternative scares me too much to consider. At least at Anita’s, I have people who care about me, people who are going to make sure this baby and I are taken care of, whether I like it or not.
