Page 106 of Forever and Ever

Monica slaps her hands over her eyes and shakes her head, burying it against Carson’s chest. “Please make her stop talking.”

He gives her a kiss on the head and smiles, brushing her curls off her face. She looks up at him and my heart warms from the look he gives her. Unconditional, filled with love. Exactly like she deserves. Carson leans in, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips before turning to head back to the kitchen.

“Try not to torture your sister while I finish the pasta.” He looks over his shoulder at me and shakes his head.

“I’ll try,” I yell. “But it’s just so much fun.”

Monica glares in my direction, walking past me to grab my suitcase. “Let’s get this to your room.”

“Please say it’s on the opposite end of the apartment from yours, I’m happy you found love and all, but gross.”

“Says the sister shacking up with rock stars.” She lifts an eyebrow.

“Rock star, singular.” I follow her down the hall and into a large guest room with a king-size bed in the middle. Both of their books must be selling well because this place is incredible.

“I was joking,” Monica says. “But really, you and Noah? Finally?”

I shrug and sit down on the bed. “Yeah, he’s…”

But I can’t seem to finish that sentence because it hurts right now remembering how far away he is. I’m so used to traveling the globe alone with no attachments, that I didn’t realize what it would mean to miss someone. It’s an emptiness I’ve never experienced.

“This is serious.” Monica sits on the bed beside me, and she must recognize something in my eyes.

I nod. “There’s something I didn’t tell you when I texted.”

My throat tightens and I can’t look at her, because if I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get the words out.

“Noah and I started dating a little after I went to Denver, and it’s been good,” I say. “He’s good to me.”

“He better be.” Monica puts on her best stern big sister face, and it manages to drag a smile out of me.

“He is.” I sigh. “But there’s something else—why I was in the hospital. I didn’t text you everything.”

Monica places her hand over mine and squeezes. “What’s going on?”

I let out a deep breath and hope it will carry the weight I’m feeling away with it, but it doesn’t.

“I was pregnant.” I finally blurt the words out, and beside me, I feel Monica’s entire body stiffen. “But I lost the baby because—well you know. It was early, I didn’t even know. It shouldn’t have even been able to happen. Apparently, my body agreed.”

“Merry…” Monica wraps her arm around my shoulders.

“It’s fine,” I say, even though deep inside I crack open wider with that statement. “I never wanted kids anyway. Or a family, or any of that crap. I wanted to be a rock star. All I care about is my music.”

But with every statement it feels like a lie I didn’t see coming. Resting my head on Monica’s shoulder, I try really hard to hold in the battle I’m losing.

“I never wanted this,” I say. “I wasn’t supposed to be able to have it.”

Monica runs her hand over the side of my head, wrapping an arm around my back. I will myself to keep it together and fail. Somewhere deep, I shatter.

“Maybe you just never allowed yourself to want it, Merry.” Monica traces the side of my head with her fingers, and as they brush my cheek I feel the tears as they start falling. “But even if you honestly didn’t want it, or even if you still don’t, it doesn’t diminish the loss you’re feeling. I know you’re tough, but you’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to feel it.”

With those words a sob escapes my throat. Because the pain inside is unbearable. Something I can’t put into words.

From the moment I found out I was pregnant, everything I thought I knew for years was tested. What I didn’t want, what Icouldn’twant, changed. Noah and I made it happen, by some miracle, and the loss of knowing it still didn’t change the end result breaks me.

I’ve never let myself picture a certain life because it was easier that way. Yes, I know there are many ways a person can have a family, and at some point, maybe surrogacy or adoption would have crossed my mind. But to get to that point, it would require me to face a loss I wasn’t ready to grieve just yet—not birthing kids of my own. And being only twenty-three, I wasn’t ready to face it.

I wasn’t ready to face this moment right here. The fact that maybe I do want things bigger than myself in my life. Maybe I do want more with Noah down the road. Except, if I allow myself to want those things, I have to admit they’ll look different for us.

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