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My sister-in-law has always had a thing for vintage-style clothing. She doesn’t wear them often, but when she does, stunning doesn’t come close to describing her. Her blonde, pixie haircut is longer than it’s been in a while. For the last five years, she kept her hair short, only leaving the top with longer layers that you can still comb your fingers through.
“Thanksgiving. I know, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it or even put a dent in explaining what the fuck is going on. Robert says you’re working an intense case and forgot.” Her hands go to her hips. She’s fuming. “Maybe I could buy that, except you aren’t answering your phone.”
For a second, I smile on the inside. She revealed my dad hasn’t told them anything and he’s even covering for me. For some reason, it warms me, even if it is all a lie. He did exactly what I asked. Robert Andrews bent to me rather than the other way around.
“I know,” I start, feeling like the world’s shittiest person. “But—”
She cuts me off, not allowing me to make another excuse. “Jack may buy it, but I don’t. Not for a second, Brianna.”
My brother will believe almost anything my father tells him, so I’m not surprised he took my father at face value. Other than his wife, Jackson has never collided with the man like I have.
“If Jackson isn’t worried, then why are you?”
“Because I know you.”
She crosses her arms again, waiting for me to break. And like that, the tears I haven’t allowed myself to shed spill over, showering down my cheeks like waterfalls.
I’m yanked into a hug as Alana wraps her arms around me, squeezing. I melt against my sister-in-law, bawling into the center of her chest.
“Bri, babe, what is it?” Her strong, assertive voice turns tender.
How do I tell her I lost a baby I didn’t even know I was carrying?
If it had been Alana, I’m certain she would have known the minute she conceived.
Me? I was fucking clueless. I didn’t get to experience the shock or the joy or the panic. My baby was gone before it was ever loved.
Shudder after shudder rips through me. It’s worse than any of the stomach cramps I’ve experienced over the last two weeks.
Two weeks.
My baby has been gone for nearly two weeks. Two weeks tomorrow to be exact. Two weeks tomorrow that I haven’t held Gabriel in my arms.
Gabriel.
This isn’t fair.
“Bri,” Alana calls out. “Please tell me what happened?”
I’ve never heard her beg before and it’s a sobering realization. I’ve kept her and my brother in the dark too long. Guilt suddenly hammers down on me.
“Honey, let’s go inside.”
I breathe in her scent, letting the remnants of her perfume calm me. She smells of a light floral scent. I try to inhale it all in, needing her.
It works, and I’m able to step back, allowing her arms to fall away from me.
I nod, taking another step backward and into my condo. She eyes me wearily for a beat before finally passing me and walking inside. Shutting the door, I turn around, placing my back against the wood while pulling in a deep breath of air. Upon exhaling, I push off and round the recliner and coffee table to sit next to her on the couch.
“I called you all day on Thanksgiving and every day since. Why haven’t you answered any of my calls or my texts, Bri?”
I look down into my lap. How do I answer that and where do I start? There is so much to tell and none of it wants to leave my mouth.
“You’re worrying me. Do we need wine for this conversation?”
“You didn’t give me a heads up that you were coming. I don’t have any wine.” I sniffle, wiping at my nose with my long-sleeved T-shirt.
