Page 28 of Eternally London

It’s astounding how much truth comes to the surface in the early morning light—the truth weighted with remorse, the fresh new rays washing away the darkness of the past. It’s a visual reminder that our mistakes of yesterday don’t have to pave the way for today.

Lately though…they have been. Every day has been full of an emptiness equal to or greater than that of the day before.

I reach for Loïc, and my palm rests against his soft skin—needing to feel his warmth to calm the aching within my chest, the raw pain and regret that consume me.

Loïc stirs and turns toward me. His tired eyes widen when they see me, full of concern and unconditional love.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out before he can say anything. “I’m so sorry.”

He deserves so much better.

He pulls me against his chest, and I wrap my arm around him. He holds me tight as my tears fall harder.

“I love you,” I say through a sob. “Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry.”

Loïc is incredibly loyal to those he loves.Yet how can he still love me?I’m nothing like the woman he married. I’ve turned into this mean, miserable person. I’ve tried to get out of it, but every time I attempt to rise from my grief, a wave of sadness knocks me back down. My heart hurts all the time, more than hearts should be allowed to hurt.

I can see myself changing. Each day, I fall deeper into the darkness, yet I allow myself to plummet. I don’t have the will to stop it. I want to. I know I should. But I can’t.

“London”—Loïc’s voice is soothing, bringing me more peace than anything else in this moment ever could—“I love you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me forever.” He kisses my head.

“Promise?” I ask.

His eyes soften. “I promise.”

“Are you sure you still love me?” I hear how pathetic I sound, but I don’t care. I crave Loïc’s strength. I need it.

“Always. We’ll get through this.”

I slide underneath the sheet that’s draped over Loïc and throw the comforter over us both. Last night, after making love—no. Having sex? Nope. I guess we’ll just call it trying to get pregnant. After that, we both just stayed in bed. I press my bare body up against his and wrap my leg around his good one. I love feeling his skin against mine, and as I nuzzle deeper into his chest, it’s utterly cathartic.

Everything about Loïc heals me—his touch, his actions, his endearing words. I really don’t know what I did to deserve him, but I’m so glad he’s mine.

“You know, it makes so much more sense now,” Loïc says. “My mom. She always carried a sadness with her. I mean, she was a great mom. She loved me; I knew that. Yet, even when she was smiling, there was a quality to it that was off. I couldn’t see it when I was young, but I see it clearly now. I see it in you.”

Loïc wraps his arms tighter around me. “In my earliest memories of my mom, I knew she was trying to have a baby. My parents always talked about having a brother or sister for me. It’s tragic to think that the last years of her life were spent engulfed in sorrow over something that she couldn’t control. You know? I don’t want that for you, London. I don’t know how long this process is going to take. I know we’ll have a family somehow. Maybe not in the conventional way, but we’ll have one. It could take a while, maybe years. I can’t bear to see you like this for years.”

“I don’t want to be like this.” My voice cracks. “I don’t know how to stop it, how to feel better. I want a baby so badly, and I feel like a failure. Maybe because I’ve never had to want for anything in my life, and now, what I want the most is out of my reach. I’m just weak.”

Loïc lets out a dry laugh. “You’re anything but weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know, London. I’m sure many women who struggle to get pregnant—all from different upbringings—feel the way you do. The emotions that you’re going through are normal. Yet we can’t let them control us. There’s a life ahead of us with children in it; I know it. But, until we reach it, you can’t stop living your life now. You’ll never get this time back, babe.”

“I know,” I agree.

“We’ll talk to a professional, a therapist. Get some strategies to help us cope. Okay?”

I nod. I know he’s right. I need help. “Yeah.”

“I need a favor from you,” Loïc says.

“Okay.”

“At least for the rest of the day, we aren’t going to worry about your temperature, your eggs being in the optimal location,deposits,” he says the last word with clear distaste, “or any of that. Today, we are going to focus on you only.”

I lean my head back, so I can stare into Loïc’s beautiful blues. A smile crosses my face because I know what’s coming next.

“Okay.” I grin.

“Happy birthday, babe.”

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