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“Why? Because you’re still angry with her? You know she left because she was grieving and didn't know how else to handle her feelings.” Eric also knew the pain of losing a child, and the results for his family had almost been catastrophic. His wife had fallen hard and fast into depression and ended up attempting suicide.
“It’s not that simple,” Fin said quietly. His and Eric’s situations weren’t the same. Eric and Lila may have pulled apart initially, and Lila may have struggled to get through things on her own while pushing her husband away … Anger had raged on both sides as they had blamed each other—but in the end, neither of them had walked away, and over time—and with hard work—they had rebuilt their family.
But it wasn't just anger standing between him and Chloe.
There was another insurmountable obstacle.
Guilt.
*****
8:18 P.M.
It is over.
It is over.
It is over.
Chloe kept repeating that to herself so that maybe she could start accepting it.
Fin’s rejection stung.
Okay, it was more like a knife slicing through her chest and gouging into her heart, shredding it to pieces.
At least now she knew for sure. There was no chance that she and Fin were going to get back together. He was too angry with her. There was nothing she could do to take back what she’d done. She had hurt him badly when she’d left, and no amount of apologies were going to change that.
So, she had to find a way to be okay with it.
It was time to move on.
While she was hurt by Fin’s cold and harsh attitude, at least he’d been clear. He didn't want her back. He didn't love her anymore. He had already moved on with his life, putting his relationship with her in the past.
Now she had to do the same.
Step one was getting some answers.
She needed to sort out her feelings about her son’s death and why it had made her push away the man she loved.
Chloe knocked on the door, her breathing accelerating as she waited for it to open. Was she sure she wanted to do this?
“Hi, Chloe. I'm Charlie, come on in.” A smiling middle-aged man introduced himself as he opened the door. Dr. CharlieAbbott was in his early forties. He was tall, had short brown hair, brown eyes that were warm and empathetic, and a body that clearly showed he worked out.
He didn't wait to see if she was going to enter his office. He just turned and headed back to his desk, pausing to open what looked like a small refrigerator.
She stood right where she was.
“Come in if you want, or you can leave; whatever suits.”
Charlie said it like it made no difference to him either way, but she knew he was testing her. He knew—just as she did—that the only way therapy was going to work was if she wanted it to. And if she couldn’t even make herself walk in the door, then how was this going to be successful?
She shook herself.
Thishadto be successful.
Things might be over with Fin, but she didn't want to give up on love. She wanted to get married one day, have more kids, grow old with the man who owned her heart by her side.
If she wanted to have those things, then she needed to do this.
