Page 11 of Loving London

I love you so very much.

Love,

London

“I’m sorry,” I whisper before I shut down the computer.

Loïc

“The thought of being responsible for another life sends a wave of panic through me so fierce that I can barely breathe.”

—Loïc Berkeley

I drop my duffel onto the floor with a thud.Home.I look around the living room where I shared so many laughs with Cooper and Maggie. I swallow hard at the memories. It’s all the same yet so vastly different.

Maggie left all the furniture and knickknacks. To most people’s eyes, this space would look like a normal home.

But I see all that’s missing, the little personal details.

The socks that were always on the floor at the base of the couch where Cooper had taken them off after a long day at base—he hated the feeling of socks and had an issue with actually putting them in the laundry room—are gone. Maggie’s colorful water bottles that used to grace every flat surface of our house—she apparently wanted to make sure she was never more than an arm’s reach away from a drink—are missing. The framed pictures of the three of us and those of Maggie and Cooper have all been taken down.

Yeah, this is a house, but it’s not my home.

I don’t even know what to do with myself. I no longer have a job. I was medically and honorably discharged—aka fired. Apparently, one needs both legs to be able to serve in the military. The closest person that I had to family died. I have no girlfriend and few friends. I’m alone in this space that’s haunted with painful memories.

Sighing, I plop down on the couch and grab the remote. I’m pleased when the TV comes on, and I make a mental note to thank Maggie later for keeping the cable hooked up. I sit in front of the television for what must be a few hours. I’m mindlessly flipping channels when there’s a knock at the front door.

What the hell?

I stare toward the door, almost convinced that I’m hearing things, when the knock comes again. I get to my feet and steady myself before making my way toward the door. It takes me longer than usual with my prosthetic. Although I’ve made huge gains since I first attached the light metal piece to my leg, I have a ways to go before I’ll be walking at the pace I used to. The pounding gets louder as I amble my way over and turn the lock. I hesitantly open the door and am greeted by Sarah’s shining face.

“Loïc!” she shrieks before forcefully throwing her arms around me and pulling me into a tight hug.

“Sarah?” I say as a question as I hug her back. I have to admit, it’s good to see a familiar face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, pulling away from our embrace. That’s when I notice her round belly. “Whoa! Are you pregnant?”

“I’m here because you need me. And, yes,” she says in response as she comes inside and closes the door behind herself. “I’m starving,” she adds.

I follow her as she makes her way to the kitchen and starts opening the cupboards and the refrigerator. “Loïc, you literally have nothing to eat or drink in this entire kitchen.”

“There’s water.” I nod toward the tap.

“Oh my God, I got here just in time.” She sighs with a shake of her head.

“I just got back three hours ago,” I say in my defense.

“Well, come on. We have tons to talk about, but I can’t even think about any of that until I get some food in this belly.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I shake my head.

“Come on. It will be fun. What do you think? That Italian place?”

“Sarah, I’m not leaving this house,” I say more forcefully. The thought of going out and participating in normal life around strangers makes me anxious. I’m just not ready.

“All right, grumpy pants. I’ll order a pizza, salad, and some pop for delivery. Then, I’ll go grocery shopping later. Okay?”

I nod in agreement. Now that she mentions it, I am pretty hungry.

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