Page 103 of Still Beating

I crumble.

My face collapses into my palms, my tears leaking through my fingers. I shake and sob without breaking for air, not even when I feel Tabitha slide up beside me on the loveseat and wrap her arms around my shoulders. I cry for this brave woman, raising her lover’s baby alone. I cry for Matthew who never got to meet her. I cry for little Hope, a product of something so horrible, yet so tragically beautiful.

And I cry for my own baby who never came to be.

Tabitha fingers my locket as I harness my breaths and wipe my face with the back of my hand. I glance down at her careful touch as she pops open the heart. “Still beating,” she voices, her tone somewhat whimsical.

I sniffle with a smile. “Dean got it for me for Christmas. He would tell me that as long as my heart is still beating, I’m okay. It’s a reminder when things get hard.”

“Wow,” Tabitha beams, grazing her finger over the engraved letters. “What an amazing gift.”

My sights shift to the little bundle on my left. “We both have some pretty amazing gifts.”

We spend the next hour sharing stories—some heartbreaking, some sweet. I have made a friend in this young woman, so strong and brave. A vision of healing and perseverance. A kindred soul. We exchange phone numbers and promise to keep in touch, and it’s a promise I intend to keep.

As she walks me to the door and we say our goodbyes, Tabitha calls after me. “Hey, Cora. Can you give Dean a message for me?”

I turn to face her on the snowy pathway. “Sure. What is it?”

“Tell him I say thank you for pulverizing that evil son-of-a-bitch.”

We lock eyes, and I can’t help but smile.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Avoidance has becomemy new favorite word.

Parents want to see me?

Avoid.

Lily wants to go out for drinks?

Avoid.

Mandy posts ambiguous memes about broken trust and betrayal all over Facebook?

Avoid.

Dean wants to talk?

Well…

Nope. Utterly avoid.

It’s Friday night and there’s a knock at my front door. I’m wondering which one of my avoidances has had enough of my shit and is coming over to smack me. The dogs follow me to the door as I peer out through the small, square window to see Lily with her heart hands pressed up against the glass. She blows into her palms, leaving behind a fog-shaped heart.

I pull the door open, planning to look irritated, but my smile betrays me. “I thought you were going to a party tonight.”

“I am.” Lily reaches for the bag resting near her feet and holds it up proudly. “You’re the party, Cora. I’ve got cheap Aldi wine that will give you such a bad headache, everything else in your life will seem like a magical fairytale, consisting of Henry Cavill riding on a unicorn naked through fields of endless cookie dough ice cream and orgasmic bliss.”

I blink. “The unicorn is naked? That’s awkward.”

“No, dumbass.”

“Okay, well, you should have worded it like, ‘a naked Henry Cavill riding a unicorn’.”

Lily swings her head back and forth as she pushes through the entryway with her migraine bag. “Dude. Don’t English teacher me.”

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