Page 78 of When Stars Fall

Nine Years Ago

Staring down at my three-month-old daughter, I wish her awake. I like her best when her eyes are open, when I find hints of Wyatt in her features. The swell, the rush of love people say happens when you first lay eyes on your child, hasn’t happened.

Numb. That’s what I feel. And exhausted. So exhausted.

This absence of emotional connection is my punishment for keeping Wyatt out of her life. He can’t connect with her and neither can I. A good mother loves her baby.

There’s a gentle knock on the doorframe, and Calshae is in the entryway to Haven’s bedroom, concerned etched on her face. “Ellie, are you okay?”

I turn back to Haven’s sleeping form.

“You’re crying again.” She scans me up and down, assessing. “You’ve lost more weight too.”

“I’m fine. I still have lots of baby weight to lose.” I brush past her to exit the room. If Haven doesn’t get her nap, she’ll cry. No more wailing. I can’t take the noise. “You just let yourself in?”

“I knocked and called your name. I was worried.”

Her help isn’t needed today or any day. She’s been a broken record since she found out I was pregnant, urging me to tell Wyatt the truth.

“Do you want me to stay and you can get some rest?” Calshae’s tone is even, like I’m the problem, like I’m being difficult.

“No, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“There’s no shame in needing help.”

“Women raise babies all the time. I’ll figure it out.” I enter the galley kitchen with her following behind. Buying this house is one of the few things I’ve done right since coming back to Bermuda. The place suits me. Ocean views. Not too much house to look after for one person. Privacy.

Calshae takes a deep breath and jams her hands into the pockets of her miniskirt. “Is how you’re behaving about Wyatt? You can go see him. You can tell him. Whether he’s with that other girl or not.”

“Katrina. You mean Katrina.” Her name is bitter on my tongue. Didn’t take him long to move someone else into the house, into his bed.

“From what I’ve seen, he doesn’t look at her like he looked at you.”

“How would I even know if he was in LA?” I grab a mug from the cupboard and fill it with old, bitter coffee. “I don’t know his schedule anymore.”

“No one in his circle would tell you?”

“I left him because he wouldn’t get sober.”

“You’re miserable. How much worse could being with him be?”

I stare at her, turning over her words. Maybe being with Wyatt would help. She’s right that I’m not sure I could feel worse. I’m watching myself spin, spin, spin away into nothing.

“Maybe Wyatt would be able to help you. Maybe he’d want to help you.” Calshae gives me a hopeful look.

I brush away more tears, and I sip my coffee, but the tears keep coming. Sometimes I don’t even know I’m crying. “I’ll think about it.” I gulp the bitter coffee, and I pour myself another one, even though it’s cold and sharp at the back of my throat.

“He deserves to know.”

“Oh, I’m aware of what you think. Trust me. I’m sure lots of people think they know better than me. But they don’t get to decide. I do. I decide. You cannot comprehend what he’s like when he’s using. Until you’ve seen him in person, until you’re the one trying to explain his behavior to someone else, you don’t get a say.”

“I’m gonna go.” She walks around the island to the side entrance. “Call me if you need help, someone to talk to, whatever.”

The click of the door echoes through the kitchen, and I make it to my room before I collapse on the bed, sobbing. Something is wrong with me. Maybe thatisWyatt or Wyatt’s absence from my life. If I tell him, maybe I can snap out of this freefall.

Before I can change my mind, I dial the number for Yasmeen, Wyatt’s travel agent, from memory. She confirms Wyatt is in LA, and she offers to book me a flight, but I decline. The idea of seeing him has my heart racing, swirling its way into my throat.

Once I hang up, I sit and cradle the phone in my hands. Haven can’t come. I dial Nikki’s number. “Can you watch Haven?” I don’t bother with a hello.

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