Saturday, August 26th #2
“No,” he says, grinning. “I mean really move in. None of this back-and-forth stuff. I want all your crap and all my crap in the same place. I want my apartment to be your home. And if you don’t want to live with Shane and Tori, we can look for somewhere else.
But I want to wake up next to you and fall asleep next to you every single day. ”
His words are so sweet, my stomach feels like it’s full of fluttering wings.
“My dad is not going to love this,” I tease.
“Baby, with all due respect, I don’t really give a shit what your dad thinks,” Ronan says, eyes intense and unwavering.
“What matters to me is you. What you want. What you need. I already broke your heart, and then I got you pregnant. I’m not sure how I could possibly fuck up more, so I’m willing to risk it. ”
“Wow,” I say, mock-swooning. “So romantic.”
He grins. “Admit it, you’re swept off your feet.”
“Completely,” I say. “And because you’re so romantic, I will absolutely move in with you.”
“Sweet.” He kisses the top of my head. Then he glances across the room and frowns. “But… you can’t bring that thing.” He points to the porcelain doll propped up in my rocking chair.
“That belonged to my great-grandmother,” I say, mock-offended.
“That’s great. Really. But that thing definitely comes alive at night, and I’m not having it in my place.”
I start laughing so hard, my C-section incision hurts. “You’ve seen too many horror movies.”
“Honestly, that doll scares me more than my mother ever did,” Ronan says with complete sincerity, and I lose it. I can barely catch my breath, clutching my stomach to hold my insides in place.
“You are unbelievable,” I manage between gasps, my voice high and wheezy.
“I really think Sammy would love to have this doll,” he says, deadpan. “You should definitely pass it down. You know, since you’re such an amazing big sister and all.”
“I can’t with you,” I say, tears streaming down my face. “You really don’t want me to bring it?”
“I’m one hundred percent serious. Baby, I will burn that thing if you even think about packing it.”
“Oh my god, Ran, stop.”
“Not until you promise not to bring Annabelle,” he says, and I collapse into another round of laughter.
“But I was really hoping to give her a special place in our bedroom,” I say, voice breathless and giggly.
“Did I say ‘move in with me?’ I meant I think we need to end our relationship for good. This just isn’t going to work out between us.”
My laughter spirals out of control again, my abs screaming from the effort, but it’s the best I’ve felt in days.
It’s the kind of laughter that empties you out and fills you back up at the same time.
I needed this. I needed a little levity, even though part of me feels guilty at the burst of joy after I just lost my baby.
Like I don’t have a right to feel happiness. Not yet. Not for a long time.
“Okay, okay,” I wheeze. “I won’t bring the doll. I promise.”
“Good deal,” Ronan says, satisfied. “I’d really hate to have to murder a doll, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”
“I can’t breathe,” I say, still shaking with laughter.
“That’s not good,” he says with a mischievous grin. “Need me to give you mouth-to-mouth?”
“Hmm, yes, I think I might.” I lean back against my pillow as his lips find mine.
His kiss is slow, soft, his tongue brushing against mine in a way that makes my whole body hum. It’s deep and warm and comforting. It’s everything I need.
Ronan
I feel bad about leaving Cat, torn between staying by her side to make sure she’s okay and needing—desperately—to distract myself from the weight of everything we’ve just lost. I know running off to work probably isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but the alternative—sitting still, wallowing, spiraling—is worse.
I don’t trust my brain to be left unsupervised right now.
I’m tired. Bone-deep exhausted. Emotionally and physically drained, even though I managed a few hours of sleep at the hospital last night.
It’s funny how exhaustion finds a way to let you sleep anywhere, in any position.
I remember those days of crashing in class after my mom’s last act of violence, my body too heavy to hold up my own head, my mind too weighted down to concentrate.
I know that kind of exhaustion well. It’s the same kind of exhaustion I feel now.
I know what it means when even breathing feels like work.
Life has a brutal way of reminding you how little control you actually have.
So I do the one thing I know how to do: lock it away. Focus on something else.
“Hey, man, what are you doing here?” Shane asks as I head behind the bar at Murphy’s.
“Working,” I say simply.
He frowns. “Where’s Cat?”
“She’s at her parents’. They discharged her this morning. Her mom insisted she stay with them while she recovers.” I pull out my wallet, phone, and keys, ready to stash them in the small office.
“Dude, I told you not to worry about coming in. I’ve got you covered,” Shane says, trailing me.
“Yeah, I know. But, Shay… I want to be here.”
He watches, eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think you should be with Cat right now?”
Oof, heavy on the guilt.
“I’m going back after I close. She’s not alone. She’s taken care of.” My voice tightens. “Please, Shane. I just need a few hours. Please.”
He studies me, his eyes roaming my face, even my body, like he’s expecting to see some gaping wound. But no, the injuries are only emotional this time.
“Have you talked to your therapist?” he suddenly asks, catching me off guard.
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“Okay. Before I let you work, you have to call her. Right now,” he says, firm.
“What?”
“Ran, I’ve known you all my life. I’ve seen you spiral. I saw you at the hospital. I know what you’re doing. And I’m not letting you disappear again. Call her. Now.”
I stare at him, trying to gauge if he’s serious. “Dude… it’s Saturday.”
“She doesn’t have an answering service that can connect you in case of emergency? Which this is!”
My mouth opens, then shuts again.
“I’ll call your dad and have him drag you out of here if I have to,” he says, arms folded over his sturdy chest.
“Jesus, Shay. Fine.” I grab my phone from the desk, unlock it, and dial Doctor Seivert’s number. I hold it up for him to see. “Here. I’m calling. Now get out. This shit is supposed to be confidential.”
He grins and backs out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
As expected, only Doctor Seivert’s answering service picks up.
I let them connect me to her personal cell phone, making this only the third time in two years that I’ve bothered her at home or grocery shopping or whatever she’s doing with her time when she doesn’t have to deal with asshole patients like me.
“Hi Doc, it’s Ronan,” I say when she answers the phone. Judging by the background noise, she’s in her car.
“Oh, hi Ronan,” she says jovially. “How are you?”
“Well, I want to say I’m fine, but I’m sure you wouldn’t believe me anyways.”
She laughs quietly. “Especially considering that you’re calling me on the weekend.”
“Yeah, I guess that, too.”
“So what’s on your mind, Ronan?” she asks, her voice warm.
“Cat suffered a stillbirth two days ago,” I say, sitting down in one of the office chairs.
“Oh no.” She sighs heavily. “Ronan, I’m so, so sorry to hear that. Listen, this warrants my undivided attention. I’m on the road right now, but I’m only about five minutes from my house. Let me call you back in a few minutes, okay?” she says, her tone compassionate.
“Sure.”
She calls back as promised, and we talk for forty-five minutes.
I tell her about Cat’s hemorrhage, the loss of our baby, how fucking scared I was of losing Cat, too, how it feels like nothing is within my control, like I can’t hold on to anything good.
And Doctor Seivert does her best to help me work through it, at least enough that I can breathe again.
“Ronan, why don’t we see each other face-to-face next week. Do you have any time on Monday or Tuesday?”
“Yeah, either day is fine. I don’t have class next week. My days are wide open,” I say, feeling drained after our conversation.
“Great. Why don’t you pop in Monday? Let’s say at eleven. I have a two-hour block for you, okay?”
I agree to the plan and we end our call.
When I finally come out of the office, Shane’s waiting behind the bar.
“So, did you talk to your therapist?”
“No, I spent the last hour jerking off,” I deadpan.
He bursts out laughing. “Well, at least you did something to take your mind off things. But seriously, how’s Cat? How are you?”
“Physically, I’m fine. Cat… she looks like a ghost, but she’ll be okay. Emotionally, we’re both kind of fucked.”
“I can imagine,” Shane says quietly, a crease settling on his brow.
“Hey Shay, did you… my mattress?”
I left Cat’s and stopped by my apartment to shower and change. I braced myself on the walk down the hall, trying to prepare for what I knew was waiting in my bedroom.
But when I opened the door, I froze.
The mattress was gone.
In its place sat a brand-new one, covered in clean, white sheets so bright they almost hurt to look at. For a moment, I just stood there, gripping the doorframe, my brain slow to catch up. No dark stains. No rumpled blankets. No reminder of the blood and the panic and the worst night of our lives.
It should have felt like a gift. A relief.
Instead, my chest tightened. Because if I didn’t know better, I could almost believe it never happened. That Cat never endured that pain. That we never lost him.
Shane’s voice pulls me back. “Your dad and I,” he says, studying me. “He dropped by this morning, and we went and got you a new one. He didn’t want you to have to see… didn’t want you to have to deal with it, so he hauled the old one off to the dump.”
I swallow the truth settling in. My dad—showing up again. Not in a loud way. Just quietly working in the background, taking care of things I didn’t even know I needed.
I nod, pushing past the heaviness. “Anyway,” I say, “have you figured out when you’re going to pop the question to Tori?”
His eyes go wide, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
“Nope,” he says. “And that damn ring is burning a hole into my pocket.”
“What’s holding you back?”
“Pure, unfiltered fear she’ll say no.”
I blink. “You seriously worry she’ll say no?”
“I do.”
“Wait, how long have you guys been together now?”
“Like three and a half years.”
“Uh-huh, and in all that time has she ever once made you think she didn’t want to be with you?”
“Not really.”
“Not really?”
“Okay, no, she hasn’t.”
“Perfect. There’s your answer. Grow some balls and ask her,” I say. “You don’t need a special occasion to do it. You just need to do it.”
Shane straightens up, puffing his chest out, taking on a determined expression. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. You’re right, I just need to do it.”
“There you go,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder.
“You’ll be my best man, right?”
I chuckle. “Sure, but maybe ask her first.”
I adjust my ball cap and make to get to work, only to stop dead in my tracks and turn back to him. “Oh hey, just a heads-up, Cat’s officially moving in with us.”
“I thought she already had?” Shane says, confused.
“What the hell? No, she hadn’t,” I say, shaking my head at Shane’s reaction—so similar to Cat’s earlier.
“She hadn’t?”
“No. Not officially. But now it’s officially official.”
He laughs as I finally head off to start my shift.