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My heart rate falls back to normal. How in the hell am I going to get out of this bed today? I wish I had the option not to. I could lie here with Lily and not get up unless I wanted to.
A few minutes later, Trace is crawling back into bed, his hair wet and a fresh pair of pajamas on.
“Lily, move,” he demands.
I frown as my sole source of comfort moves to the foot of the bed. My eyes inevitably lift to Trace’s. He’s moved to lie on his side, his gaze pinned to me. I can’t read his expression and that in combination with earlier has me worried.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says.
“Me too.”
“We’re a barrel of issues this morning. You’re overwhelmed by anxiety, which is driving us both crazy, and you’re at your wits’ end and stressed. I’m overwhelmed by depression, which is making me irritable, exhausted, and tense with a short fuse. You won’t always be like this, and I won’t always be like this.”
“I’d love you anyway.” If this is what every single day of the rest of our lives would be like, yeah, it would suck to have more bad days than good. Regardless of how tough it is and what we’re going through, if I was stuck with this Trace forever, I’d love him anyway. Bad days aren’t what makes a person, and it won’t be what breaks him, or us, either.
“You took away my comfort,” she says, glancing down at Lily.
“I thought I was supposed to be your comfort.” I reach out to pull her against me.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t seem like you’d be up for it,” she mumbles.
“You can always count on me.”
“Always?” she questions. There seems to be more weight to it than there should be.
“Always,” I confirm. I was extremely frustrated earlier, but if she’d told me she wanted me to hold her, I would have happily done so. “What time are your parents coming again? Are we going out to eat or am I supposed to cook?” She’s told me already, but I can’t remember which for the life of me.
“They’ll be here around noon. I’m leaving to meet them for lunch and to hang out with them. I thought we’d go out to eat around six; you can meet us there.”
I’m not sure which is better. To go out where other people are around and there’s less pressure, or if it’d be better here at my home where they can see me more as a regular person dating their daughter? Then again, having it here could be harder. They may not so easily see me as a regular person.
Brittany reaches up to pull my hand away from my neck. “I can’t wait to say I told you so,” she says with a little smile.
“Me too. Feeling any better?” She shakes her head, and I sigh, “Me either.” The best way to describe it would probably be that you simply feel terrible for a prolonged period of time. Not much can make you happy, make you smile or laugh, or make you feel positive. You can be logical all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact of how you feel. I’ve been dwindling at a steady pace since Vegas.
“Listen,” Brittany begins. My stomach starts to churn even though I have no idea what she’s going to say. “My parents are good at reading people. Try to be as genuine as possible; don’t try to hide your mood. It’ll be better that way.”
“All right.” Though I’m not sure how it’ll be better.
“They already know about your depression, so it’s not like it’ll catch them by surprise if you don’t smile as widely or laugh as much.”
I pull away from her, my eyebrows pulling together. “They already know about it??
?? My own father doesn’t know, and she’s told her parents.
She nods. I stay quiet, waiting for her to explain, and she does once she realizes I’m not going to say anything. “Well, when I went to them, I had to tell them something, and it kind of came up.”
All I do is nod. It’s not like I can make her take it back. We lie in bed for a while longer until Brittany insists on getting up to cook breakfast once she’s showered. I doubt either of us are hungry, but if she needs to do it, then I won’t stop her. I’m not helping her, though. I go from my bed to my recliner, Lily choosing to stay close to Brittany instead of me. I wonder if that’s a sign of who needs her more.
My phone rings in my pocket and I reluctantly pull it out. There’s two people who might be calling me. Faith, to check on Lily, which she’s only done twice since I’ve had her; or my dad. Neither of whom do I want to talk to.
“Hey, Dad,” I answer anyway.
“Hey, Trace. I figured I’d call and see how you were doing since I haven’t heard from you since my visit.”
“I’m doing well. Been working, went on a short trip to Vegas, and taking care of Lily because Faith couldn’t keep her anymore.”
The mere mention of my ex-wife has my dad’s full attention. “You’ve talked to Faith? How did that go? Are you still with that young’un?”
