Page 71 of Dancing in the Dark

Shame swirls in my belly where, a few short years ago, a baby once took up residence. “We’d been together a couple of years before that, and we’d already gotten engaged, so this wasn’t one of those shotgun proposals because a baby was on the way situations. She was a girl,” I whimper. “Already measuring well ahead of her gestation. She was gonna be chunky. Ya know… if she’d made it the whole nine months.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. “The wedding was set for six months after that, which would’ve made me approximately three months postpartum.”

The muscles in his jaw clench and release. Flex and relax. “What happened?”

“Something dumb.” I exhale a sobbed breath and swipe my cheek with the back of my hand. “A fender bender in afternoon traffic. It’s not like we were going all that fast or anything, but everything just… happened. The airbags deployed, and my stomach copped the worst of it. The ambulances came immediately, and…” I shrug. “I dunno. I was scared for my baby, but once the EMTs looked me over and were satisfied I was okay, I was more focused on how angry I was at Anderson.”

Charlie’s lips flatten into vicious lines. “It was his fault?”

“It was the consequence of his and some other guy’s egos and an inability to follow zipper merging protocols. I could still feel her rolling around in my belly. I remember thinking she seemed kinda pissed, too. And then…” I close my eyes and shake my head gently from side to side. “It’s like the floor dropped out from beneath me. I felt the gush and thought I’d wet my pants. Then I freaked and thought my water had broken.”

“The placenta detached?”

My heart aches as viciously now as it did the day we lost her. “Complete abruption,” I whisper. “There was so much blood. So much. And then the world spun, and the next thing I knew, I was on my back. The EMTs were still there, so they swept me up and tried to help, but she…” I shrug. “It wasn’t meant to be. She died within minutes, and I guess, since everything happened out in the street, I got an infection, too. One surgery, to get her out, turned into two, to clean out my infection. Two turned into three, to remove a fallopian tube, and then I just… I stayed in bed for a little while after that. My stomach was still swollen, like she was still in there. Worse, I could’ve sworn sometimes, when the world was quiet and the universe wanted to be especially cruel, I could still feel her rolling around.” I swat another tear from my cheek. Two, or three, or four… dozen of them. “I was so angry at Anderson. So angry at the world. I was angry at me, too, because it was my job to keep her safe.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Charlie exhales a shuddering breath and drags the pad of his thumb beneath my eye. “You couldn’t have known. And you couldn’t have fixed it.”

“I know. I told him to leave for a few days. To stay with his parents or something, because every time I looked at him…” I choke out a soft snicker. “I wanted to hurt him. Really, really bad.”

“I can relate,” he grits out. “I, too, want to hurt that cocksucker really, really badly.”

“We had a fight. I stopped and wondered if prison was really all that unpleasant… ya know, since I didn’t have a lot waiting for me on the outside, anyway. But common sense prevailed and, in the end, I sent him away. I wasn’t breaking up with him,” I explain. “I didn’t throw my engagement ring in his face. I only needed space for a few days.”

“During which…” he murmurs. “Miranda London happened?”

I scoff. “Her. And several others. Kinda felt like he was more interested in his body being serviced than he was about the safety of our baby, or the emotional state of the woman he claimed to love. That’s when I realized our relationship was probably fated to fail. Plus… I still, then and now, want to hurt him every time I look at him. So I called it quits and dove headfirst into work.” My lungs jump and tremble as I bring my eyes up to his. “My colleagues back then knew I’d been expecting a baby, and their sympathetic stares made me want to tear my hair out, so I quit my job and applied for a position I’d seen advertised in the paper.”

“The George Stanley?”

“Mmm. I swear, I saw that position open up at least every six months. The turnover was intense, which probably meant it sucked. Bad bosses. Bad environment.” I shrug. “Chant made me an offer before my interview was complete, then I started a week later and learned quickly why everyone before me kept quitting.”

“Because Chant was a grade-A asshole?”

I snicker. “Total asshole. But she created a workplace where no one really cared to chat or gossip, and no one there knew me, so on the few occasions someone asked me about myself… when Aubree asked me about myself…”

He chuckles.

“I lied when I could, evaded when I couldn’t, and wrapped myself in that bitchy, untouchable attitude you still think of sometimes. It was easier that way. A year passed, and the sharp edges smoothed out. A little more time passed, and Chant started talking about retirement.”

“Then Mayet came along,” he guesses. “And that brings us to now.”

“Basically.” I peek down at Mia’s soft curls and the plump swells of her cheeks. “I don’t hate children, Charlie. I never did. But to protect my heart, I stopped liking them. All except for this one.” I drag my gaze back up to his and slog through the aching, slimy thought Anderson’s “oooh!” placed in my belly. “I’m not delusional, and I don’t consider Mia a replacement for the baby I never had. I love her for her, and I grieve my baby separately. And I know you probably never even considered otherwise, so now my words probably sound like the ramblings of a mentally unwell woman, but I needed to tell you it’s not like⁠—”

“Hey?” He cups my face in his palm and searches my eyes. “I know. It’s separate.”

“You believe me, right? This isn’t some weird⁠—”

“I believe you.” He leans closer and presses a quiet, close-mouthed kiss to my lips. “And I’m glad you told me.”

“So you can watch me around her? Toss me to the loony bin if I start acting weird?”

He rolls his eyes. “Because sharing vulnerable things about yourself implies a certain level of trust, dummy. Trust means we’re a little closer to where I want to be, and a little further from where we were yesterday. Last week.” Another kiss. “Last month. And look at me not turning a big thing into an even bigger thing.” He flashes a playful grin and pops to his feet. Circling the couch and coming up behind us, he trails the tips of his fingers along the top of my shoulder and up the side of my neck. Stopping beneath my chin, he tilts my head back so I’m looking at him upside down. “Get your Moo snuggles and settle in. I’m not ready for you to leave yet, so I figure I could pour you a glass of wine and turn on a movie. If I try really hard, I might even talk you into staying the night.”

“Th-the night?” My heart skitters too fast in my chest. Too wild to contain. “Charlie, I don’t…” I swallow the nerves nestled in the base of my throat. “The whole night?”

“We stayed together the whole night last night.” He leans closer and nibbles on the corner of my lips. “You don’t wanna?”

“Well…” Yes, my mind screams. I actually really do. But, “I don’t want to confuse her. She’s already been through so much, and then this afternoon…” God. What did she hear this afternoon? “That stuff with Anderson. You said yourself she comes to you every single night after she pees, and if she finds me in your bed…”

“Too much?” He nods. Considers. Then he carefully drags my ponytail out from behind my back, combing his fingers through the locks while he thinks. “Well… what if we stay out here?” His eyes flicker to the cushions to my right. “Have you ever slept in a pillow fort before? I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’ve been told on more than a few occasions that I’m actually pretty awesome at building those things.”