Page 70 of Crack the Ice

TWENTY-FIVE

CECILIA

Mav left about twenty minutes ago with Kelsey in tow, leaving a smirking Sunny in my kitchen.

“What?”

“Your brother’s going to flip out,” she says, head tilting back on the very laugh that gave her her nickname. It’s bright and airy, warming you from the inside out, just like the sun.

My eyes land on the picture of Mav and me sitting in the living room, our smiles brightening up the place like nothing ever happened. It’s a little easier these days to believe that we could be, and honestly, my brother is the least of my concern.

“Probably,” I finally say, pulling my eyes away from the picture. “But it’ll be worth it.”

Sunny’s arms wrap around my shoulders as she pulls me into her. “I’m glad you guys finally figured it out. It’s been painful watching you pretend he’s anything other than the love of your life.”

“I suck at hiding my feelings, don’t I?”

She leans her head on top of my own, quiet for a beat longer than what’s comfortable. “Not usually, but when it comes to him? Yes. Let him love you, Cess. You, out of everyone, deserve to be loved the way he loves you.”

I know. And I always thought I wanted to be loved out loud like my dad loved my mom, but I think that maybe I was wrong, and my preferred brand of being loved is in the quiet moments. The ones no one else would know about. Sure, show me off and parade me around like you can’t stand the thought of anyone not knowing I’m yours, but love me in all the simple, quiet ways that are just for us.

He’s shown it already in the way he asked me to move in, not because he wanted me there, though I’m sure that’s part of it. But because he stopped long enough to listen when I was telling Lily about the way my brain is different. And not only that, he came up with a solution to help me with that change before we’d have to hit the ground running.

“Yeah, I know,” I whisper.

“Don’t worry about Lana, okay? She’ll come around.”

My stomach clenches, but only momentarily until it’s my turn to paint the room with laughter.

“I’m not worried about Lana. We both know how big of a drama queen she is, and honestly, when I get to a point that I want to talk about what happened, I know she’ll understand. I’m still working through the things I thought were an irreparable loss. I need to wrap my head around the fact that I’ve been wrong about how he’d take it this entire time.”

She nods and pulls us both to the barstools pulled up to the island. “You’re okay though, right?”

The question makes me pause, but it doesn’t fill me with dread the way it used to. I don’t feel the need to deflect or hide immediately. I’m… hopeful.

“Yeah, I am.” This time the words feel less like a lie and more like a step toward the healing I’d been withholding this whole time. Because if I’m being honest, that’s what I’ve been doing. Punishing myself for not being able to do the one thing I believed every woman should be able to do.

It’s so different from other forms of infertility. There’s no chance for me. I used to stand in the shower with my hand pressed to my stomach, begging for this to be some sick joke, then apologizing to my heart for not being able to give it what it wanted most. For years I hated my body, and not in the way most would think. I hated it because it failed me and didn’t even give me a say in the matter.

I didn’t even recognize myself when I looked in the mirror anymore: the dark bags under my lifeless eyes, the frown that seemed to sit on my face like a tattoo I didn’t remember getting. I’d stare as I dragged my finger across the scar that mars my skin right under my bikini line, swearing that I’d never swim in front of anyone ever again, afraid they’d see it and deem me imperfect. Just like I already had.

They say the grass is always greener on the other side, and I don’t think that’s ever been more true than it is here. Because I’d give up just about everything to wake up every month and have my heart shattered by a negative test, because that meant there’d still be a chance that it could be positive. That I could feel a child grow inside of me. Yet I sympathize with those women because I know how bad it hurts to desperately want another outcome.

I needed to find a way to tell him, but was drawing blank after blank after blank. Every possible scenario ended with him leaving. Then he came home, and my brain finally went quiet. He was here, still choosing me, until he wasn’t.

“Want to watch a movie with me?” I ask as I walk out of the bathroom, freshly showered, wearing nothing but a silk robe.

His eyes meet mine before letting them trail down my body. I love when he looks at me like this, like I’m his whole world and he’ll never get enough. I bite down softly on my lip, hands moving to the ties around the waist, slowly pulling at the ends, only stopping when I see he’s fully dressed.

“Are you going somewhere?” My hands fall to my sides, and I silently beg for his answer to be no. But I know better. “I really need to talk to you about something.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Can it wait? I need to go deal with this.” He shakes his phone.

“It’s almost ten at night, Mav. What’s so important that it can’t wait until the morning?”

He sighs, running his hands through his hair before lying back on the bed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” His arms open for me as he says, “Come here.”

I don’t think before I leap straight into them, burying my head in the crook of his neck. I need him. I need him to tell me everything is going to be fine, even if he has no idea what transpired at the doctor’s earlier this week. I need him to stay.