Page 27 of Still Burning

“I’ll talk to him,” I told her, although I had no idea how I got the words out because my throat burned so badly.

How was I going to endure this? It would just get worse. But he should be with her. I knew that.

She narrowed her eyes and stared at me. “You will?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yes, I will. You’re wrong. I do know what that feels like. Just because I don’t have a child doesn’t mean I’ve not beenpregnant.”

She balked, and if I were anyone else, I could tell she’d have started apologizing for what she’d said. But this was me, and she hated me.

“I was young, too, and it’s not something anyone should have to go through alone. I’ll convince him to go with you. What time do you need to leave?” I asked her.

She had stopped crying. “Two and a half hours,” she said just above a whisper, studying me like she was just now seeing me for the first time.

“Okay. Wait for him in the kitchen,” I said.

She didn’t move to leave, like I wished she would. I needed the next two hours to get myself pulled together because I literally felt like I was dying inside. If Rome thought for a second that this would upset me, he wouldn’t go. Getting him to go in the first place was going to be hard.

“You’re really gonna get him to go?” she asked.

“Yes, I am.”Now, please get out.

Deciding she needed a hint, I walked back to the door and opened it.

She looked from the door to me, then started in my direction. I waited silently, wishing she’d walk faster.

When she reached the doorway, she stopped. “Thanks.”

I didn’t respond. I’d done all the talking I could. I forced a smile, and she continued out the door. Waiting until she was out far enough that I could close it took effort, but I did it.

I only made it three steps before I sank to the floor, wrapped my arms around my knees, and let the silent tears go. Rocking back and forth, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through the heartache and pain.

Loss never truly went away. Every time I thought of the three babies I never got to hold, that I never got to celebrate a birthday with, that I never got to hear their first laugh, I got a bone-deeplonging for the little lives I never got to see.

It was a grieving that never faded or left you. It was always there, etched into your heart. Reminding you that you had made a life once, but weren’t given the chance to be a mother.

I took deep breaths, the way my therapist—who Eamon had suggested I go see after my second miscarriage—had taught me to do. I focused on the good in my life. I released the pain with each exhale and told myself that with life’s sorrows also came joys. I had joys ahead. It wasn’t all sorrow, and I was strong enough to get through this.

Two hours later, I had washed my face and redone my makeup and changed into a sundress since I wouldn’t be riding on the back of Rome’s bike today. I was composed, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to arrive. I had to convince him to go, and it would take my very best acting skills to convince him I was good with it. He had to be curious, even a little. This was his baby too.

Yep, I needed to stop that train of thought, or I’d fall apart again.

“You’re the strongest woman I know,”I heard Eamon’s voice say, replaying a conversation we’d had shortly after I lost our second baby.

“Then you should get out more. Because if I’m the strongest, that’s sad.”

He smiled at me and walked over to pull me into his arms. “You don’t see it, but you are. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

The door to Rome’s bedroom opened, and I shook my memory away to prepare for what I was going to say. His pale green eyes locked on me, and he smiled slowly, then drifted down to my crossed legs.

“As much as I love looking at your legs, Angel Face, you can’t wear that on the bike,” he told me, closing the door behind him.

“We aren’t going on a ride today,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“You changed your mind and put on a little short dress. I can work with that,” he said with a smirk as his gaze darkened. “Why don’t you uncross those pretty legs and open them up for me? I’ll let you come on my face first.”

I licked my lips and stood up before he had me pinned on the bed. “No. Well, that’s not why we aren’t going on a ride,” I said, having to tilt my head back to see him now that he was so close.

A frown creased his forehead. “You got that serious look,” he said, brushing his knuckles over my bottom lip. “What changed from the time I left and now? You were looking forward to our ride.”

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