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Eric nodded, a faint blush spreading across his cheekbones. That was interesting. “I hope you don't mind. I just didn't want to leave you alone like that.”
I frowned at him, wanting to ask if he'd been there in bed with me or if he'd stayed on the couch. From the way he had blushed, I had to assume that that memory I'd had of him holding me in his arms in my bed might not have been a figment of my imagination. If he had stayed with me, it would have been the first night that he'd done so. But I couldn't get the guts up to ask.
I took a sip of my coffee. “Where's Emma?” I finally asked.
“I left her with a sitter for the night,” Eric explained. “I called her as soon as the hospital called me. I had a feeling it might be a difficult night.”
“Oh,” I said. I was grateful that he had stayed with me, I realized. I wouldn't have expected it, with how rocky our relationship had been lately. Maybe he was the good guy that I'd thought he was.
“Everything just seems surreal today,” I commented. The idea that I would never see Mom again, the idea that Eric was being so nice to me, that he had stayed with me; they were both things that I wouldn't have expected. Of course, there was also the fact that I was pregnant, the fact that I lived there in Tamlin, the fact that someone as handsome and personable as Eric had slept with me in the first place, and especially that I had developed feelings for him. Come to think of it, the whole year seemed pretty surreal.
I didn't elaborate on it, but Eric chewed slowly, looking as though he was considering that. “I remember that feeling,” he finally said. He grimaced. “I wish I could tell you that that feeling goes away, but to be honest, there are still mornings when I wake up and think that the past two years have been a dream,” he admitted.
I frowned at him. “We studied the process of grief in a psychology class that I took in college,” I told him. “I know that that happens.” I didn't mean to sound so snappish about it. I knew he was only trying to help, and I had to appreciate that he hadn't told me any of the standard clichés about how everything was going to be okay and that I would get through this. But I also didn't need him to sound so patronizing about it, just because he had been through all of this before.
I felt bad for even thinking that, though. I should just be happy that he was here.
Eric stared at me for a long moment. “Knowing that that's the way it works and experiencing it are two very different things,” he finally reminded me. He held up his hands. “I know I sound patronizing, but I am just trying to help.”
I nodded, feeling almost chastened at his words even though I knew he didn't mean it that way. “Thank you for staying with me,” I finally told him. “And feeding me.” I looked down at my still-full plate, giving him a guilty look. “I'm sorry I don't have more of an appetite.”
“That's all right. You just shouldn't be alone right now,” Eric said simply. He paused. “You're going to have to start figuring out the arrangements,” he said. “Get in touch with your mom's lawyer regarding the will. Memorial Gardens, over in Redfield, is an honest and reliable funeral parlor. They should be able to help you out.”
I pushed away my breakfast, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn't want to think about making the arrangements. What I wanted was to go back to bed and pretend that this wasn't happening.
But then again, I supposed 'pretending that this wasn't happening' was exactly what had brought us to this point in the first place.
Eric stood up, carrying our plates over to the counter. He started putting my uneaten meal into a Tupperware container so that I could save it for later. He rinsed his plate and put it in the dishwasher, discretely giving me time to compose myself.
After a couple of minutes, he turned back to me, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I have to head home and relieve the babysitter,” he said. “I want you to take it easy today, all right? And if you start to feel overwhelmed, call your friend.” He looked away as he said that, and I suddenly realized that the 'friend' he was talking about was Buck.
I swallowed hard, wanting to say something, to tell him yet again that it wasn't like that, that Buck and I weren't anything to one another and that he wasn't my lover. But I knew that he wasn't going to listen to me, and anyway, I didn't have the energy to have that conversation now.
So instead, I just nodded, sitting stiffly as he came to give me one last hug.
He had been so kind through the whole thing, but I suddenly realized that he was being almost clinical about how he was comforting me. He was only doing this because he felt obligated to, as a doctor. He felt like he had to take care of me.
I blinked back tears, choking out a quick goodbye. Fortunately, Eric left quickly. As soon as the front door closed behind him, I started sobbing, gut-wrenching sobs that felt as though they were turning me inside out. I wasn't sure which I was more upset about: the fact that Mom had died or the fact that for a moment there, it had felt as though Eric truly cared about this and wanted to make things work between us.
But of course, that wasn't the case. Just because Mom had died didn't mean that my string of bad luck was over. I could hardly fathom having a child now and raising it all on my own. But I didn't know what choice I had. Mom might not be around, but I still knew that she would have wanted me to raise that child. It was what we'd been talking about when she had died, and I had to respect that as being her final wishes.
It hurt too much to even consider it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Eric
Jeannie's funeral was that following Tuesday, at the Memorial Gardens like I had suggested. It seemed as though the entire town was there. Of course, in such a small town, everyone had known Jeannie.
I'd left Emma with Jenna, knowing that it would be impossible to get the girl to sit still for the ceremony on a good day. As it was, the weather was supposed to be hot that day, and humid. I dressed respectfully in a suit anyway.
I hadn't spoken to Olivia since Saturday morning, but when I'd gone over to her house on Sunday afternoon to check on her, she hadn't been there. I assumed that she'd probably been doing exactly what I had told her to do: spending time with a friend, to get her mind off things. Still, it sent a pang through my heart to think that she had turned to Buck to help her get through her grief.
I couldn't blame her, if I was honest with myself. I knew that I had probably shown her too little care, too late. Besides that, I was the one who had suggested that she turn to someone else. And I knew that I had been way too patronizing during our breakfast. I just hadn't been able to stop thinking about Emily's death and how I'd felt afterward. I knew everyone dealt with grief in different ways, but I'd wanted Olivia to know that what she was going through was entirely normal.
Instead, I'd probably made it sound like I didn't need to hear her whining or something like that.
I swallowed hard, feeling back about that all over again.
