Page 125 of Could Have Been Us
Jack’s arm tightens around my middle, drawing me back against him. “Don’t go there, Stella.”
I close my eyes, hating that he knows me so well. “It’s like a bomb ticking down in my heart.”
“I have the same one, but we cannot fall apart. I can’t lose both of you in the same day.”
I turn over, my finger touches his lips. “You’re not going to lose me,” I vow.
“Good.”
At least, I really fucking hope not. I am going to need him more than ever. “Now what do we do?”
“I think we do something fun with her. I don’t want to spend the day counting down. Do you?”
“No.”
“Then let’s spend the day not thinking about it and having fun.”
If I could turn back the clock, there are a million things I would’ve done with her. We could’ve gone to the beach house, spent more time at the lake, or gone shopping. I feel like I’ve been robbed. I lost the first week, and I want it back.
Only, it’s not mine to have.
“Yeah. I’m sure that’ll be possible with her packing and talking about going home.”
The email came late last night that told us Samuel is doing well enough to leave rehab and take back his life, which means his daughter.
Jack kisses my temple. “I didn’t say it would be easy, just that we need to try. Do you want her to remember us this way?”
I close my eyes, sinking into him. “No. I want to keep her. I know I shouldn’t, and I swore I wouldn’t, but how could I stop this? She’s our daughter. I have you, and now—God, I’m selfish and want her too. I want this family.”
His hands move up and down my back. “I wish I could lie to you and say I don’t feel the same. I want her too.”
“And I did that to you.”
He pulls back, lifting my face to his. “You didn’t do anything. You were right when you told me that it was the only option, and even though I don’t know how we will survive this, I don’t regret it.”
I don’t either.
I nod, unable to speak.
“I’m going to shower, and then we can figure out what to do for the day.”
Jack releases me, and I blow out a deep breath before getting out of bed.
Once dressed, I head into the kitchen.
What a mess my life is. A month ago, Jack and I were new and having fun. It was easy. Now we’ve been living together, which I don’t want to change; we had our daughter with us, which is going to change; and the inn is taking the next steps.
I can’t stop any of what’s to come. Tomorrow we will drive Kinsley to Samuel, and the rest of the world will go on, oblivious to the pain Jack and I will be in.
“Stella?”
I turn to see Kinsley standing there, watching me.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
I look down at the glass of orange juice in my hand, not remembering when I poured it. I paste on a smile, using all my years of projecting false happiness, and look back to her.
