UNFORGETTABLE (Able Series Book 3) (11 page)

“Hello beauties, and hmm. . . . eye candies!” Neil says as he winks at Cody, who scowls right back at him. “Alright, chica, we need to get the hell out of here if you want to be on time for the shipment at the store. Come on, make it snappy!”

Patting my pockets for my phone, I remember I left it in my room. “Hold up, just let me get my phone. Neil, I’ll meet you outside. Roxy, you can go to your appointment. See you at dinner?”

I kiss Jake and Trish goodbye, and I march straight to my room. I’m shocked when I see Brian in the kitchen on my way out. He’s leaning against the counter, his hair wet, one foot resting over the other while he twirls his Oakley’s with his fingers.

“Hi.” Weariness masks my voice, but I manage to reward him with a smile.

He just nods, not a word comes out of his mouth. I don’t know if I’m okay with that; maybe I am, but I don’t want to scrutinize everything right now. It’s too painful to see him like this.

Longing is on full display in his eyes as he says, “God, I miss seeing your smile.” His hands fisted at his side, trying to hold himself back for fear of me leaving. His eyes wander over every part of my body he can lay his eyes on.

“How are you?”

Instead of answering, he shakes his head while his eyes don’t leave mine. What they show is uncertainty, doubt, fear, hope, love, and everything in between. I hate they’re there, but a part of me is glad they are. At least, he’s feeling something instead of being numb.

I slowly walk toward him, praying as I go, stopping right in front of him, as I do my own perusal of everything I love about the man that stands before me.

“I . . . I don’t know where to begin. I want to help you forget. How I’ll do that, I don’t know? I hope that every time you feel the air, the heat of the sun, the coolness of the rain caressing your skin, it would remind you of our angel. Every time I experience those things, I try to tell myself it’s our baby’s way of reminding me that life goes on. I don’t know if the pain will ever go away, but I know our baby’s here. Right here.” I run my hand on his heart and mine. “Inside your heart and mine.”

He wipes my tears away with so much tenderness my heart aches for him . . . for us. For the life we’ve lost. There are no more words left to say, or anything left to do because just like love, loss lingers. Once you feel the pain, it stays until you feel less of it each and every day, but until then, I hope our love for each other will outlast the pain. I think his silence means acceptance or maybe understanding, but I’m wrong. Once again, he throws another pain filled dart straight to my heart.

“You’re living in a dream land, Tami. The caress of the damn air will not soothe the pain, nor will the crispiness of the rain, or the heat of the sun take all of it away. You’re left with nothing, but a memory of pain; and I’m left with nothing, but guilt and fear.”

I have nothing else to say to that. How can you save someone who doesn’t want to be saved? How can you make someone understand who refuses to? I slowly look down, wishing the floor would open up and make everything disappear, but life is never easy. I thought the hardest thing in life was learning to accept and overcome life’s challenges, but I was dead wrong. The hardest thing in life is seeing the person I love willingly give up without a fight.

“I wish I could help you hope.”

“Hope for what? For you to get pregnant and for me to lose another child? I’m not taking that gamble. I lose every fucking time!”

Shaking my head, I answer, “No.”

“Then, you’re hoping for what?”

“I’m hoping that maybe someday you’ll find your way back to me.”

“The problem isn’t whether I can find my way back to you, it’s more can I give you want you want.”

I have a feeling this confrontation is the beginning of the end for us. My heart beats uncontrollably against my chest preparing myself to accept the ache that’s about to decimate my heart.

TAMI

HE WALKS TOWARD ME, AND
instinctively I step back until my ass hits the wall. Brian’s hand digs behind my back and glides slowly upward until his hands are cradling my head. My arms are limp on my side while our eyes are locked on each other’s. For a while, we stay this way until he surrenders as I stay like a statue waiting on him.

Before I know it, he’s kissing me and I’m kissing him back. My weakness is this man devouring me. As much as I want to deny him and myself, I can’t. Even though that part of my brain, the place where logic resides, tells me to stop; I can’t because my heart won’t allow it. I’ve missed his lips, his fingers against my skin, his body warming mine . . . I just miss everything about him. While we continue to kiss each other, every time his tongue glides against mine, every single moan that escapes me, a little bit of sense fills my brain long enough for me to realize this isn’t right, not after the hurtful words he said, again. I finally break our kiss, the logical part of my brain wins, and my heart yields to it.

“You said I’m living in a dream land. Is it bad to dream of having a child? Is that a crime?”

“What part of ‘I can’t risk shit’ don’t you understand? All you think about is having a child. There’s always the fucking unknown attached to it, Tami.”

I take a deep breath before voicing what’s in my mind, “When will you stop hurting me with your words? When?”

“Until you fucking get it! I’m saving you from a world of pain, Tami, by not getting you pregnant.”

Whoever said the truth shall set you free is full of crap. My dad once told me it releases both parties. I beg to disagree, because right now, I don’t feel free. It doesn’t set the person being told free, it buries them in hurt and devastation. The only one being set free is the person doing the confessing.

“So, when you say hurtful things, I just need to accept them, right? Just like when I told you I was pregnant, your outburst was something I should’ve taken lightly and understood. I tried to understand your pain. I truly did. But your hurtful words and unchangeable mindset, I can’t live with that. Do I have stupid written on my forehead?”

Immediately, he pushes away from me, while I smooth down my hair. Will we ever get past this? I’m beginning to fear we won’t. I look over his way, and I see a different man before me, gone is the confident, mellow, logical, positive, full of life man I fell in love with. Instead, I see a man stressed out of his mind, afraid, uncertain, and ruined because of his past and fears. Fears he’s forced to face, probably because of me, perhaps because he needs to. At this point, I don’t care as long as he faces them. I don’t want to see him like this . . . I hate seeing him like this.

He braces his arms on the counter as he leans forward, head down. “How did we get here? We were so happy . . . so content even when bad shit was happening around us. I was ready to pop the question, T, especially after you had the accident. You’re all I need; please, don’t doubt that. I don’t know what to fucking say anymore. All I know is I don’t want to lose us, T.” He looks at me with pleading eyes, but it’s not going to be enough this time. . . . not this time.

So, it happens. Our inevitable break up because of the past he’s running from, and my desire to have something he thought he couldn’t possibly give me. I want so badly to change my mind because I unequivocally love this man with everything in me, but I think I should believe the old time saying of ‘if you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they’re yours.’ The irony of it all is this saying applies to the two angels he lost if only he’d sit still enough to realize it.

“I have to let you go so you can find yourself. I think with me in the picture and knowing how badly I want a child with you, it just slows down the process of acceptance instead of making it easier for you.”

I push off the wall and stand behind him as I reach for his hand, tears I don’t want to fall, finally falls. “I want you to get past this. I hate seeing you carry this guilt, because your hurts are mine, too. I hate myself for putting that pressure on you, the constant asking if you want to have a baby, not knowing how it was affecting you. I want to help you, not drag you down. This constant bickering and fighting isn’t healthy. I don’t want us to hate each other, Brian; and we eventually will if we continue down this path.” I squeeze his hand as I painfully watch the agony in his eyes. “This is
me
putting you first. Your needs before mine, because right now, you’re more broken than whole. You’re more hurt than happy. I’m more hurt than happy.”

“I don’t want to be without you.” His voice cracks at the same time my heart does. “Why are you giving up on us?”

“Sometimes, fighting isn’t the answer, but rather letting someone or an idea go, then maybe once it’s free the fight begins. I love you, that’s not the question here. It seems my love isn’t sufficient since your confidence in it isn’t enough to rid the demons that chase you.”

“It’s not you, Tami; it’s me. They’re my fears to own, mine to overcome. It has nothing to do with you.”

He turns around and holds my face tenderly and before he can continue, I beat him to it. “Actually, it has everything to do with me. I want you to
be whole,
because
you
want to, not because you want to
give
me what I want and need. What
I
want causes you the greatest grief and self-doubt, perhaps I’m not the right person for you.” He starts shaking his head as his hands clasp my face a little tighter. “Just listen, please. When you love someone, truly love someone, you’re willing to jump and face what you’re most afraid of, because you know without a shadow of a doubt that that person will help you wade through anything. Maybe, you’re afraid to jump because you don’t trust our love to save you . . . to save us. There’s nothing wrong in that.” I watch his tears fall like my own, and with every single tear that lands on his face, my heart beats slower . . . painfully slower.

“It’s me, not you. It’s always been me! Me!”

Placing my hands over his I say, “It’s okay. It doesn’t make me love you less. My love for you is separate from your love for me, but what makes love between two people unforgettable is when it merges together into one, making it last forever with no end. Maybe you’re not there yet, perhaps
you’ll
get there
without
me. Maybe, you
need
to get there
without
me. I love you so much, enough to let you go find yourself. I love our baby enough to accept the loss, a loss you haven’t learned to accept. It’s in accepting I find strength to go on—to move on, and maybe, try again. There are no regrets on my part, none at all. I promise. I love even the darkest parts of you, and how I wish you’d embrace them too because they make you who you are. Your weakness is what actually makes you stronger because you’re still fighting, still standing. Don’t you see it? I just need you whole, because having only pieces of you makes us incomplete. I.love.you. Don’t ever forget that.”

Before he could actually say anything more, I turn and walk out the front door.

BRIAN

IT’S BEEN FOUR DAYS SINCE
I saw the love of my life run away from me and the image continues to haunt me. It’s a kick in the balls. The saying ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’ is on repeat in my brain. Her letting me go made me realize in just a few short moments, I’m more fearful of losing her than anything else in my life. She’s teaching me to let go, sacrificing her own wants for what I truly need.

Unknowingly, my uncertainty tainted our relationship. It caused a crack in the very perfect love we both shared. That thought alone makes me scowl at myself . . . perfect, is there such a thing? My loss, twice as a matter of fact, displays the reality that there’s no perfection in this world. However, if I look close enough, Tami is my perfection because she quiets the nagging sound of my fears; she drowns the raging guilt; she just gives me peace.

Life’s about forgiving and starting over. Death and life mingle together much like happiness and sadness, tears and laughter, all these emotions are overcome or powered by love, and the only way for me to overcome anything is to get her heart back.

Dejectedly, I leave to go to work, hoping work will somehow make me forget . . . maybe.