“I—” She interrupts me, my confession suffocating when it should be anything but. But she doesn’t say anything beyond this interference. Her thoughts are left out, splayed and exposed, and we don’t know what to do with them other than just stareat them, hoping they’ll turn into something we can work with. And then she finally lands the final blow. “I don’t know if there’s anything left to fix, James.”
“How can you say that?” I start to cry, and my voice wavers.
“How can Inot?” she argues. “Look at us.”
“I do, Kendall.” I grip her arms. I do so with a little more force than I intend to but the desperation coursing through me is catching up. “I look at us, and I see so much worth fighting for. I see the first time we met. And the first time we kissed, and when I told you I love you. I see…all the things we’ve lost along the way, and regardless of what we’ve struggled through and what we’ve been through, we are worth every bit of that fight.”
“I don’t see any of that anymore,” she confesses through watery eyes. A tear slips down her cheek, and she doesn’t bother to wipe it away. “All I see is how much we hurt each other. And I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either.”
“Then please…” she cries. More tears streak down her face, and it shatters me. I can see all the tiny pieces of her heart scatter around me. And it looks so utterly broken.
“I love you.” It’s a plea, not some brave declaration.
Her eyes search mine, quietly contemplating her next words, before she says, “I don’t think that’s enough for us.”
I love her. That will never change.
But loving her—loving each other—was never the problem. If anything, our ability to love each other through everything is part of the problem. Because how easy would it be tonotlove each other. To move on without even looking over our shoulders. But the hope that comes with our love makes us want to fight. Until our very last breath.
She looks away, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Her jaw ticks like a tell. Like she tried to hide her disbelief through a lie but couldn’t. Silence falls over us like a heavy downpour.There’s nothing left to say. So, she continues packing like I’m not standing there, watching her consider a life without me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kendall
THEN
From: [email protected]
Bean,
I haven’t written a letter in a while. I’m sorry. I think life has just been happening around me lately, and I sort of forgot. Or maybe I’ve been avoiding it too. I’m sorry.
I don’t really know what I’m sorry for. Probably for having gone so long without writing. I know when I do, I love it. And I feel so much better once I hit that send button. I feel so much more connected to you. Or maybe I’m sorry for…living life. I promise I didn’t forget about you. You’re always on our minds. I don’t think we’ll ever forget about you. I couldn’t do that. I’m constantly wondering how different my life would be if you were here. Our friends, Tommy and Sylvia, just had a baby. You would’ve been almost two years older than her, and you would’ve had a little playmate. We could’ve watched the two of you grow up. I think it would’ve been nice to see that if only you would’ve made it.
Not that I blame you for anything. Of course not. If anyone’s to blame, it would be me. I was the one who wassupposed to make sure you were a healthy baby growing inside me. I always wonder if there was something I could’ve done differently. And then I think about all the things that make me happy. James, Sylvia, Tommy, my mom, James’s family, his adorable niece. I don’t know if I’m comfortable being happy. Maybe I shouldn’t be. I feel too guilty to be happy, so I just don’t feel okay with it. Or maybe this grief is my only connection to you, and when I’m happy, I don’t feel like I’m really grieving. Without it, you just aren’t there anymore. When I’m happy, I feel like I’ve left you behind, and that kills me. I will never leave you behind. Ever.
I wasn’t supposed to ramble. I’m working on it.
We love you so much.
“So what’s the game plan?”
James gestures his hand at my carry-on. A silent understanding: It’s his job to do the heavy lifting and my job to follow at his heels. From our apartment to the cab to the overhead bin in the plane. And now, as we rush through Sea-Tac to baggage claim. “We’re checking into our room at the hotel, and then we’re heading over to Sylvia and Tommy’s for dinner.”
“What time?”
I check my watch. “In about an hour,” I say, realizing we’re literally going to be dropping off our bags in the room and hopping right back into our rental car. We’re cutting it a little close.
“And your mom?”
“We’re driving down to Tacoma tomorrow morning,” I tell him. “It should take us about an hour to get there. Hour and a half, tops.”
We wheel our bags to our next destination, wishing a silent prayer that it isn’t a long wait for our rental car. I huff a sigh when I see a near-endless line in front of the Hertz counter. With my hand gripped on the retractable handle to my luggage, James leans down to place a soft kiss on my temple. A sweet little distraction. “You hungry?”
