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“My sister heard from Jesse.” He frowns at my harsh words. “I came to pay my condolences.”
“Your condolences?” I spit, stepping up close to him.
Brady tries to sidestep Tug, the anger rolling off him in waves. I hold my hand up to stop him.
“We were together for three years, Victoria. We were close. I care about you.”
“Don’t fucking call me that!” My teeth clench tight. “How dare you say you care about me? For three damn years, you cared about me so much that you slept with any girl who stood still long enough.”
“I’ve apologized for that.”
“Son.” My dad’s firm voice breaks in. “I think you need to leave. We’re burying my granddaughter today, and your presence is not only unwanted, but extremely disrespectful.”
“Yes, sir.” Jake bows his head. He might be a womanizing pig, but he’s always been respectful to my parents. “I’m sorry for the disturbance.” He glances between Brady and me. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
While I watch Jake drive away, I see a familiar Volkswagen Thing parking a few cars up. I run over to give, Ted – my ex-Rasta wannabe boss – a hug. I miss working with him at the coffee shop. As I hug him, I feel guilty for not visiting him more often. I suck back tears and thank him for coming.
“Hey, now, no tears.” He holds my cheek thoughtfully in his big hand. “You don’t want to see this old guy cry, do you?”
I smile up at the big lug.
The service lasts an hour. I hold it together for the most part, clutching Brady’s hand. It’s not until “I Hope You Dance” by Lee Ann Womak starts to play that I completely lose it. I sob uncontrollably throughout the entire song. Each verse is more torturous than the next. At one point I nearly ask them to turn it off, but Brady reaches around my neck and pulls me close, holding me firmly against his body as I wail my eyes out all over his suit jacket. I feel his chest heave against my cheek, and then I hear his tears. When I look up at him, he wipes them clean and sucks in a breath. He’s trying to be strong.
Once the song finishes, I hear everyone behind me sniffling, the song having an effect on them, too. We’ve all lost her. I hadn’t thought about it like that until this very moment. My parents were looking forward to being doting grandparents. Liv was going to be the world’s greates
t auntie. Tug couldn’t wait to show Mona off, mostly to get girls, but he was excited for her arrival. Today we grieve together, as a family, because at the end of the day, that’s what we need to get through this.
Tug passes out roses for each of us to drop on top of the casket. Brady and I stand back until the very end. When it’s our turn, I squeeze his hand so tight, I’m sure it goes numb. He doesn’t say anything, though. We approach the tiny casket and drop the roses.
“Until we meet again, baby girl,” Brady mumbles, his voice cracking. He pulls me close to his side. “Mommy and Daddy love you.”
I can’t say anything through my retching body. Tears stream down both my cheeks. The pain in my soul so sharp, I nearly vomit. It’s a pain I would never wish on anyone. As the casket lowers, I turn in Brady’s arms and watch as my little girl sinks beneath the earth, to rest forever.
My parents leave with Harrison and Liv. I think they want Brady and me to have a private moment of grief. I feel Brady’s hand on my cheek. I glance up to meet his eyes. His pain reflects back at me. I want to die.
“Take a walk with me.”
I nod. I don’t have to ask. I know where he wants to go. After he found out the truth about his real parents, he had Walter and Mona moved to side-by-side plots so they could be together. He hasn’t been to see them.
We walk hand in hand to their graves. By all appearances, it’s a beautiful day. The sun shines down on us. Birds sing. I look up at the pristine blue sky. There’s not a cloud in it, but all I see is the storm. It’s ugly, and violent, and it’s creeping down on us slowly. Brady and I are together today to mourn our daughter, but what happens next? What happens when we’re done grieving? That’s when the storm will touch down like a tornado and try to destroy us. It’s inevitable. I only hope we’re strong enough to survive, because we’re definitely not prepared for it.
When we reach Brady’s parents’ graves, he lets go of my hand. He walks to their headstones and kneels. I don’t feel right being here. He’s quiet. His head stays down. I don’t know what to say or do. Minutes go by that feel like hours. His pain is too close to my own, only tenfold. I wish I knew what he was thinking. Is he telling them about our little girl? He finally stands. He looks at the sky before he turns and walks back to me. He doesn’t stop until our lips meet. His hands sink into my hair as he kisses me tenderly. It’s slow and filled with words unsaid. Our tongues push and pull. He turns his head from the kiss. His palm finds my hand. He laces our fingers together. Without a word we walk back to his car.
I have no idea what that was about, but I loved it.
Brady opens the passenger door. I’m starting to get in when his hand grips my arm. My belly flips. His expression scares me. Maybe he feels the storm brewing, too. “No looking backward, okay, Sunshine?”
A single tear rolls down my cheek as I nod.
As we coast down I-5, I try not to think about what I’m going to miss the most. I won’t hold her when a boy breaks her heart, or wipe a snotty nose. She’s at peace, and I hope with enough time I’ll find my own.
Brady’s hand strokes my knee during the drive. I reflect on what a beautiful service it was. I owe Tug so much for handling the details. I remind myself to thank him before my body begs me to sleep. I lean against the window and close my eyes.
Chapter 17
Tori
It’s been more than six weeks since we buried our little girl. Life has fallen back into a routine for everyone except me. I have nothing to do — no doctor’s appointments, no last-minute preparations. I’ve entertained myself with busy work, but have done nothing constructive. My staples came out a week after the surgery. My scar is still numb, but my body is back to normal. I’m surprised at how quickly I’ve recovered physically. Emotionally, I’m still fighting the battle to function on a daily basis. Second Chances is back to performing regularly. I haven’t gone to any of the shows. I’m not ready to face everyone yet. Brady spends the majority of his time in the studio. When the band’s not rehearsing, he’s writing. There’s also the string of calls to his cell phone that started after Mona died. He tells me it’s no one important, but I can’t help wondering. I haven’t gone as far as searching his phone, but I’m seriously considering it. I feel like we’re slowly slipping further and further away from each other, and if I don’t do something soon, we’ll never find our way back.
