Page 80 of What We Broke

“Why do you think I love her more?” I ask.

“Because she’s biologically yours,” she says matter-of-factly. “And I’m not.”

My chest cinches at her revelation. The realization that she and I are carrying around the exact same insecurity has me hating myself a little bit more for causing her that type of pain.

Of all the ways for us to be similar.

She doesn’t know that Lola wasn’t biologically mine. We didn’t even think keeping this piece of information from everyone would matter.

“Rain-e girl,” I breathe out. “None of that is true.”

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, rising and walking around to Raine. I drop to my knees in front of her and hold her hands in mine.

Inhaling loudly, I try to find the same courage and strength that exudes off of this beautiful, intelligent, young woman, and admit to her some of my deepest darkest secrets.

“After Lola died, I told myself that you and your mom and dad didn’t need me. I convinced myself that because I wasn’t biologically your dad, you didn’t need me,” I explain, every part of me heavy with shame. “I told myself your dad could live a wonderful life without me and without having to pick up all my messy pieces. I have spent more than a year telling myself that I was doing nothing more than weighing this family down. I believed if I stayed away you would all soon realize you were better off without me.

“But the problem with that is, it isn’t the truth. For a while it wasmytruth, but there is actually nothing factual about the way I was feeling.”

Raine’s expressions change as she takes in my every word. I want to tell her that Lola wasn’t biologically mine, but I want to try and make my point more.

“If I said to you, your life is better off without me because I’m not biologically your dad, what would you say to me?”

Raine tilts her head to the side as she contemplates my question. I’m surprised by the confidence I have in her answer. Surprised by the moment of clarity I have been blessed with at the hands of a seventeen-year-old.

“Papa, I would tell you you were wrong,” she says, holding her hand out to me. I take it, squeezing it like a life raft. Taking the olive branch. “Life isn’t better without you as my dad; life is better because of it.”

CHAPTERTWENTY

jesse

NOW

I don’t knowof any marriage that is perfect, but I feel like the life we lived before we lost Lola was damn near close.

I know for certain that there is a good chance we may never be that way again, but for the first time I don’t feel anxious about what our future looks like.

After our impromptu visit to Lola’s gravesite, and his talk with Raine, things between Leo and I have shifted—almost like we’re both seeing the other in a different light.

Apart from the small, intimate funeral we had for Lola, Leo and I had never been to the cemetery together, a true sign that we both have been grieving apart and differently.

While that session with Dr. Sosa started out so heavy, visiting Lola and giving myself permission to let go and cry was painful and cathartic.

Having Leo there to catch me while I fell was everything I was too scared to admit I needed. It wasn’t just about allowing myself to grieve, but it was about the man I married making me feel secure and safe.

I didn’t know I needed that.

I’m the caretaker, the provider, and the protector. It’s such an integral part of my personality, that it’s hard to resolve with the instant relief I felt at being held and comforted.

It bridged a gap that only weeks ago I didn’t know was possible. Our dynamics were forever changing, and this time it finally feels like it’s a change for the better.

The weight on Leo’s shoulders is visibly lifting, and his physical appearance is reaping all the benefits. I didn’t realize how accustomed I’d become to the hunch in his shoulders, his tired eyes, and the gradual loss of weight and muscle.

Those things didn’t make him any less beautiful, but they made his pain and baggage visible for all to see. But this version of him, with his hair cut, the color in his cheeks returning, and his body filling out; I’m turned on by the spark of hope in my husband alone.

“I love that you still swim.”

Leo’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

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