Page 86 of Can We Try?

“I—I love you. I miss you, and I don’t know how to do life without you,” I say through my sobs. I bury my face in Lachlan’s neck and let my tears flow. I hear him talking, but I don’t understand anything he’s saying.

Finally, he pulls away and lifts my chin with his index finger. “It’s time to go,” he tells me.

I nod, because I know we have to do this, even though I don’t want to. Together, we make our way to the truck. Ours is first in line, and our friends and their families are right behind us, and there are a few other cars behind them. There are more people here than I ever thought possible.

The drive to the cemetery is short. Grandma will be laid to rest next to Grandpa Tom and my parents. We all gather round. Lachlan tries to get me to sit, but I refuse. Instead, he holds me up as the preacher says a few final words.

Thousands of memories flash through my mind, and she’s in all of them. Lachlan leads us toward the casket and pulls out two flowers. One he hands to me, the other he keeps for himself.

“I love you,” I whisper as I lay the flower on the casket. Lachlan keeps his, and I want to ask why, but I don’t have the words. They seem to have escaped me. He takes me home, and I’m surprised to see everyone else here as well. Roman’s and Monroe’s parents came to get food ready for all of us.

“Thank you,” I tell them. It’s meek at best, but it’s also the best that I can do.

Everyone stays; they ask how I’m feeling and how the baby is. I know they’re trying to distract me, but it’s not working. Everything is a haze, and I’m so fucking scared it will remain that way.

I’m in a room full of people, yet I feel more alone than ever.

It’s been two weeks since we lost her, and my heart is still shattered. I haven’t gone back to work, and I know that I need to. They’ve been lenient with me, probably because I’m pregnant, or maybe it’s Lachlan telling them I’m not good. I know he said those exact words because I heard him.

“I can stay home. I can cancel my clients,” Lachlan is telling me.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’d rather be here with you,” he says, trying to convince me that him not going to work again today is a good idea.

“You took two weeks off with me. You have clients who are depending on you.”

“You are more important than any client, Mags. I love what I do, but that pales in comparison to you and our son.”

“Lachlan.” I sigh. I just need him to go to work. I need to be left alone.

“I’m staying,” he says, starting to kick off his shoes.

“No. Go. JUST GO!” I scream. He freezes, and his eyes widen in shock. My voice is hoarse from all the tears I’ve cried, and my cheeks are wet from said tears. “I need time, Lachlan. I don’t need you hovering. I just—I need some damn time,” I say again. To be honest, I don’t know what I need. I just know the guilt of taking up so much of his time, from taking him away from a job he loves is eating away at me. Just another bruise on my already broken heart.

The room is eerily silent, my anger hanging between us. I’m not mad at him. I’m just plain old mad. I’m sad. I miss her. Finally, he walks toward me. I expect him to fight back, but instead, he pulls me into a hug.

“I’ll have my phone on me. You can call the shop too. I love you.” He presses his lips to my forehead and lingers longer than usual. “I’ll be home soon.”

I don’t say goodbye. I don’t say I’m sorry, and I don’t tell him I love him. I stand in the middle of our bedroom, a shell of myself, and watch him walk away.

I’m not hungry, but I know I have to eat for the baby, so I make my way to the kitchen to make some peanut butter toast. Just as I’ve taken the last bite, there is a knock at the door.

I almost don’t answer it, but Lachlan has been buying stuff for the baby, and I don’t want to miss a delivery, if that’s what it is. He deserves that much from me. Pulling open the door, I suck in a surprised breath. “Amanda.”

“Hi, Maggie. Is now a bad time?”

I step back, motioning for her to enter. I don’t want company, but Amanda has been nothing but great to me. “Did he call you?”

“Did who call me?”

“Lachlan?”

“No. I did talk to him a couple of nights ago, and you’ve been on my mind. Can we sit?”

“Sure. You want something to drink?” I ask, remembering my manners.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” She takes a seat on the couch, and I do the same on the opposite end. “Why did you think my son called me?” she asks.

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