Page 65 of Audiophile

“Our parents pushed us to move in together right after I learned I was pregnant. They also pushed us to get married, but planning a wedding was a lot. I was hormonal, moving, stressing over a budget, and Nate and I hardly knew each other. It wasn’t great timing, dropping out was a bitter pill, but I knew it would be worth it. We were happy about the baby. There was something like fate about it—the way people get smashed together in romantic comedies and then find out that they’re perfect for each other. Even her name was fate. I named her after my nonna, and Nate loved having her carry a version of his name. But then everything went wrong. After she—the baby—”

“Natalia,” Reed murmurs. It’s the first time anyone’s said her name aloud in more than seven years.

Natalia. Natalia. Natalia.

My hands fist in Reed’s shirt. “Her foot was smaller than the pad of my thumb. I didn’t want to let go, butthey made me.Then my insurance didn’t want to cover the hospital stay, and we had to pay for her burial. I had her brought here, next to my grandparents. I needed someone to be with her.”

My voice cracks, and Reed is there, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me to the couch to cradle me in his lap.

“Justcry, baby, it’s okay.”

I shake my head. My ribs ache with the effort of holding myself together. “It destroyed me, Reed. I didn’t want to try for another, but Nate did. That’s what Tommy is angry about. After a while, Nate had enough. He tried to convince me it would make me happy, but I wasn’t ready.”

Reed’s hand is soft on my back, rubbing warm, soothing circles that ground me into this moment. It’s the only reason I get the words out without dropping into the past.

“I didn’t know what he was doing, and it took longer than he’d hoped. Hid my birth control, said he used a condom but he didn’t. Little things, until he got what he wanted. He was happy, but I was drowning. I couldn’t eat. I could hardly get out of bed. I miscarried again at sixteen weeks. After that, trying again would’ve killed me.”

Reed makes a pained sound—a twin to the grief sitting in my chest. “Pet—”

“We weren’t married, but I stuck it out for eight years. The way good, Catholic wives are supposed to. Until Nate couldn’t pretend anymore. He took over the apartment, and I couldn’t afford LA without rent control.” Nate isn’t a steady presence in my head, but saying it aloud makes the pain of his betrayal fresh and bold. “I thought he loved me, but maybe I was wrong.”

Reed presses his lips to my hair. “Sometimes love is fleeting. Sometimes grief changes us to need different people than before. But sticking with someone who makes you miserable doesn’t make God love you more, Pet. Just like listening to DKP doesn’t make God love you less. You deserve happiness,” Reed says softly, brushing a stray tear from my cheek. The rest has dripped down his naked chest, and I wipe up the trail, horrified. Reed stills my hands with his. “You take everything with a smile—you even laugh when you’re uncomfortable or upset. But I wish you’d let yourself cry. Really cry. You need it.”

I laugh incredulously as I dry my face with the hem of my shirt. “I don’t cry, and I definitely don’t smile.” But when I search through the past few days, that’s all I’ve been doing. It’s an uncomfortable realization, and I don’t want to consider why I’ve been smiling so often. I push away all the things I don’t want to see and try to find something normal to grasp onto. “Where are we getting breakfast?”

Reed frowns at me. “Rubbery-Petra, that’s all the feelings I get?”

I laugh, but it’s gritty and raw. “That’s more than anyone else has gotten, so take it and be grateful.”

Reed threads his fingers through my hair, and his eyes are red-rimmed when they capture mine. “You’re the strongestwoman I’ve ever met. Thank you for sharing this with me when you hate being vulnerable. I wish I could give Natalia back to you—take away your pain.” I shrug, feigning composure, and he pulls me in for another squeeze. “You’re as prickly as your legs, Pet.”

“My legs aren’t prickly yet, are they?” I slide my hands down my thighs, but my pajamas are in the way.

“No.” He smiles, though it’s nearly as haunted as mine, and picks me up. He carries me into the bedroom and throws me on the bed. He settles next to me, stroking my side. “Not yet, at least.”

“Tontolino.”I shoot him a glare, but Reed just smiles, a more real one this time.

“If that’s all the feelings you can handle, will waffles help?” he asks. I nod, but Reed doesn’t let me get up. He strokes my necklace with reverence, and I don’t mind him touching her name. “Why don’t you let yourself cry?”

“It still kills me sometimes—but now there are hours or days where it doesn’t crush me. If I cry, I’ll drown. Writing helps. Natalia is the pixie I write about: a whole, healthy little being, full of fire and fun. I write the type of fairytale I’d want her to have growing up. One that says you can be tiny and powerful, that warriors can be kind, that sadness doesn’t last forever. It’s fantasy for grade school children, but that’s not the heart of the story.”

Reed nods. “The heart is Natalia.”

His thumbs sweep across my cheeks and he places soft, quiet kisses against my lips. When he pulls back, his cheeks are wet with my tears.

“I’ll help you publish it. Thousands of children will read it and see themselves in her. Natalia will live in them, Petra, in little pieces of their hearts.”

He means it, and the earnestness in his eyes breaks me.

Grief overwhelms me in a blizzard, whiting out everything around me except for the howls of despair clawing at my lungs. I cling to him, longing for her. Recalling the horror of that night. All those hours when I wished they would sedate me.

I sob against Reed’s chest while he says things I can’t understand and strokes my hair. It’s all noise except for Reed’s skin against mine, as he holds me the way I wish I could hold Natalia. When I pull myself together and I’m able to choke back some of my tears into harsh breaths, Reed’s words come into focus.

“I’m sorry you suffered through that alone, darling. I can’t change the past, but I want to ease your heartbreak. I’ll help you tell your story. You don’t have to do this alone anymore. Cry as much as you need. Hold on to me. I have you. I won’t let you drown.”

Chapter twenty-five

Reed

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