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He pulls me into his embrace, and I collapse against him, my tears soaking into his shirt. “Aly is in your heart, and she’s in mine. That’s where we’ll always carry her, where she’ll always belong,” he whispers, stroking my hair, offering a comfort that’s as much for him as it is for me. “She won’t stop being ours or disappear if we make the decision to adopt, have children, or . . .” His voice trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.
There’s grief, raw and unyielding, for our daughter—our baby, Alisson, who we never got to hold. There’s also a shared pain that could somehow bridge the gap to help us heal. His embrace is comforting in a bittersweet way, much like this conversation. He’s probably right.
Alisson will always be in our hearts, forever loved.
“I still don’t know if I can trust you again,” I confess, pulling away just enough to see his face, my voice quivering.
He looks at me, earnest and hopeful. “Let me earn your trust. Show you that I’ve grown and learned that communication is the key. Show you that I’m willing to go to therapy and do anything in my power to make you fall in love with the man I am today.”
“I live in New York,” I remind him.
“If moving there is what you need, then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll move to The Big Apple,” he says, without hesitation.
My lips part but no words form. The notion of him doing the impossible so I would fall for him again terrifies and thrills me. A whirlwind of emotions churns inside me. His willingness to uproot his life for us, for me, is staggering.
Could we actually try again after everything? It’s a grand gesture, but is it enough to mend the broken trust?
“Can I . . . Let’s take this one day at a time,” I suggest. “Caleb and Cora are counting on me. I have to know what’s happening with Izzy. There has to be a reason why she got hooked on opioids. An accident, dental work, or . . .” My thoughts trail off, wondering if we’ll be able to help her and the future of the little ones.
“I could ask my people to check if there’s any more info in her medical history. Maybe we could find out why she got divorced,” he adds.
“Should I wait for her to wake up?” I ask, biting my lower lip in contemplation. “Respect her privacy.”
“She lost that when she decided to put her children in danger,” he reminds me.
I stare at him, thinking if we should try to get to the bottom of her situation without her involvement. Sure, she can give me her side of the story later, but this could help us even more. “What if she wakes up tomorrow?” I ask, hopeful.
Gabe shakes his head. “She’s medically sedated while her brain swelling goes down. We likely won’t be able to talk to her for at least a week.”
He takes my hand. “In the meantime, we need a plan for caring for the little ones. I’m taking a couple months off to be with you.”
“I haven’t even spoken to my bosses yet,” I admit, staring at Caleb’s little body resting still in the crib.
“I thought you did.” Gabe frowns.
“We discussed getting temporary custody but . . . I didn’t mention needing extended time off.” I tap my chin contemplatively. “Though there is a branch of my firm here in Seattle. Maybe . . .”
Gabe squeezes my hand gently. “Listen, this isn’t something you need to solve today,” he assures. “However, if you need to take a leave of absence, I’ll cover your expenses. We’re still married and everything that’s mine is yours.”
I want to ask if he’ll cover the expenses for my clients too. Some of them get help monthly. At least until they’re back on their feet. But that’s a discussion for another day.
“Tomorrow,” I let out a low breath. “Tomorrow, I’ll call and figure all this out.”
I remain cradled against him, and notice a Roman numeral tattooed inside his arm, just before the elbow. It’s a date. The date we lost our baby girl. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. He permanently marked Aly’s loss on his skin, like carrying the grief close to his heart. I brush my lips over the ink, overcome with bittersweet emotion.
After all this time, he still honors our daughter as intricately as I do. Our shared pain binds us, two hurting souls who loved a life too brief yet so very wanted. If anyone understands this torrent of sadness, joy, fear, and hope swirling within me, it’s this man. I cling to him tighter, letting the tears fall freely.
Chapter Twenty
Ameline: Just spoke to my boss. He said to take the next couple of months off—paid. But if needed, they’ll be happy to transfer me to the Seattle branch. His brother, my other boss, will be handling the custody, if necessary.
Gabe: We got the information on Izzy.
Ameline: What does that mean?
Gabe: She was in a car accident almost three years ago. The drunk driver was her husband. He’s in jail, won’t be out for another seventeen months.
Ameline: So, I’m all these little ones have, huh?
