Page 102 of Family Like This

It’s an awkward space, seeing as it’s a single bathroom and not a bigger one with stalls, but it’s better than being out there with everyone else.

I lean against the wall and wrap my arms around myself, trying to find some calm in the tempest of emotions, but I can’t. My tears come hard and fast, drenching the top of my dress.I hate feeling like this.

A knock at the door makes me jump.

“Ames?” Dani calls.

I look around, then reluctantly go open the door, mostly because I’m worried someone will break it open if I don’t.

Dani walks in, followed by Katie.

Dani wraps me in a hug that I only half return. I’m too frayed emotionally to function.

When she lets me go, Katie squeezes my arm before hugging me. “I’m sorry if that was too much,” she whispers. She steps back and looks at me.

I don’t want her to feel bad. Sheshouldn’tfeel bad. So much love went into it, and I’m glad they did it.

I sniff back my tears, shaking my head. “No. I’m so grateful to have it.” Even if it feels like someone is twisting a knife around inside my heart. I will cherish those scraps of her for the rest of my life, even if they destroy me, too. “Things like this overwhelm me sometimes, that’s all.” And I’m breaking from the inside out, shattering into jagged little pieces that rip my soul to shreds.

It’s all too much. But it can’t be too much. I have to get a grip. This is my baby shower, and I can’t spend it melting down. I take a breath and force everything back, and the familiar numbness washes over me. That’s fine, I can do numb. I cannot keep falling apart, though. Not here. Not at all. I’m exhausted. I need a break from the constant barrage of emotions. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

“Do you need anything, honey?” Katie asks.

“I’ll be okay,” I say a little too robotically, then I force a smile. “We should get back out there.” If Katie and Dani aren’t buying my bullshit, they don’t call me on it, so I wipe my eyes and go to the sink to splash some cool water on my face. I avoid the mirror, not wanting to see the look on my face or the hollow emptiness inside me reflected in my eyes.

After patting my face dry, I take one more breath, settling into the numbness.

When we step out of the bathroom, Miles is pacing back and forth down the small hallway. When he hears the door shut behind us, his head snaps up, and he walks straight to me, wrapping me in his arms. The numbness wavers, my emotions fighting to get out, but I do my best to hold it all back.

It’s next to impossible in his arms. His presence is enough to undo me, and I can’t deal with that here. I can’t do it all.

“I’m here, baby. Tell me what you need.”

I shake my head and push out of his arms. “I’m fine. All I need is some water and to get back out there.”

Miles looks over my shoulder at Dani and Katie, who both squeeze my hand before walking back out to the party.

Miles’s gaze drops to me. His eyes are dark and his lips are pulled flat. “You’re not fine.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Ames—”

“Miles,” I say sternly, then lower my voice. “It’s our baby shower. Let’s go enjoy it.”

He stares at me for a moment more, then his face softens and he kisses my head. “Okay.” He takes my hand and leads me back to the party, but despite wanting to enjoy it, I know I won’t. At this point, I’ll have to settle for making it through without falling apart all over again.

Miles

Talk about a fucking day.

In some ways, today was beautiful. We celebrated our daughter with our closest family and friends, and if I could put a period at the end of that sentence, it would’ve been perfect. But I can’t. Because in the same moments of celebration, I was watching Amelia slowly unravel. She keeps saying she’s fine or she doesn’t want to talk because it won’t help, but that’s all bullshit. I watched Rae and Joel hide shit. I watched Aaron and Sarah not deal with shit. I know what she’s doing, and it’s fucking killing me because I would do anything,anything, to help her.

What do I do now?

It’s been utter silence since we left the baby shower. Thankfully, my mom and the girls packed up all of our stuff and are taking it to my mom’s house, so I don’t have to worry about unloading shit right now.

The agonizing quiet continues as we take the elevator up. Amelia won’t look at me, and my anxiety thinks that’s a tasty snack to feast on. I can’t stand this in between space. I’ve never liked leaving things unsaid. It makes everything worse when you’re wondering what’s going on in someone else’s head. It’s better to know.

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