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He was stunned. In twelve years he hadn’t heard her cry. There had been a few tears just after the birth of their daughter—but none after that.
He wrapped his arms around her. Her skin was cold, chilled in the coolness of the chapel, so he pulled her against his chest and stroked her hair. He didn’t care about the dust. He didn’t care about the broken torch on the ground.
He just held her.
And she sobbed. Like no one he’d ever heard before. These weren’t quiet, tiny sobs. These were loud and spluttering, echoing around the thick chapel walls. Her body was racked with them and he could feel her pain, feel her anguish. It was as if twelve years’ worth of grief and sorrow had just erupted from her soul.
It was horrible to see the woman he loved like this. But he knew exactly how she felt. Only he could understand. So he waited and he held her, gently stroking her hair and whispering in her ear.
He had no idea how long they stayed that way. Eventually her sobs quietened, turning into little shudders instead of big outbursts. He changed position, pulling her up onto his knees, taking her bare legs away from the cold floor of the chapel.
His hands sneaked around her satin-covered waist and he pulled her against his chest. Her hands snaked up around his neck and her head tucked under his chin. He could feel her ragged breaths against his skin.
‘I know, Lucia,’ he said softly. ‘I know how you feel. I loved her just as much as you did.’
She gave a little whimper and her fingers tightened around his neck. He waited a few seconds then gently lifted her head up. There was only a tiny bit of moonlight streaming through the stained-glass windows but he could see her tear-streaked face and he lifted both hands to caress it.
‘Talk to me,’ he whispered.
She shuddered, then nodded slowly.
It was odd. The strangest feeling in the world, but it was almost as if his body gave a little cry of relief.
‘I miss her,’ she said in shaky breaths. ‘I miss her every day.’
His heart squeezed in his chest. He wanted to wrap his arms around her again and kiss her. But he needed to let her speak.
‘I don’t want to talk about her,’ she said, her voice tinged with regret. ‘If I don’t talk about her, then none of it was real. None of it really happened.’
She shook her head as her voice rose in pain. ‘Why, Logan? Why our baby? Why did we have to lose her? Do you know where we could be right now? Do you know what kind of life we could be leading?’
He nodded his head. ‘Of course I do,’ he whispered.
‘But you were so calm, so controlled,’ she said angrily. ‘I couldn’t be like that, I just couldn’t. You did everything. You organised the flowers, the funeral, the casket. You spoke to the family.’ She shook her head, her voice rising. ‘How could you even do that? How could you even function? Our daughter was dead!’
‘You think I didn’t know that? You think I didn’t hurt every bit as much as you? I hated that, Lucia. I hated every second of that. I hated the fact you wouldn’t eat, you wouldn’t sleep and you wouldn’t talk to me. Organising was the only thing I could do. I wanted the world to know that Ariella Rose had existed. I wanted her to matter. I wanted to bury our daughter with the respect she deserved.’ He hadn’t realised this had been buried inside him. He hadn’t realised he’d wanted to say all this to her.
‘And I didn’t?’ She was crying again. ‘You were so...capable. And I felt useless. I couldn’t be the person I’d been. I couldn’t be your other half. I couldn’t look at you without thinking about her and what had been stolen from me!’
He clasped her head between his hands and leaned his forehead against hers. ‘Stolen from us, Lucia,’ he said quietly.
‘I needed you. I needed you every second of the day. But I couldn’t get to you. You locked yourself away from me and after a few weeks I realised that you needed to grieve differently from me. I didn’t want to let you go. I never wanted to let you go. No matter how sorry I was, no matter how much I hurt, I still wanted you, Lucia. Every second of every day. You’re the only person in this world for me. The only person I want to grow old with.’ He traced a finger down her damp cheek. ‘I just needed to see you cry. I just needed to know that you could acknowledge our daughter.’
She was still shuddering. He ran one hand down her arm and could feel the tiny hairs on her arms standing on end.
‘Why now? What’s changed?’
