Chapter 21 Our Story Cara #2
“I—I—I—” I squeeze my eyes shut, heels of my hands pressed there as I shake my head.
“I know you’re here. You’re right fucking here,” I weep, gesturing at my hulk of a man, trying so hard to hold me, to hold on to me as I keep him at bay.
“And yet I feel so damn alone in this. The needles and the blood draws, the injections and the hormones. The overanalyzing, the delusions, the ridiculous superstitions. The cynicism. I mean, for fuck’s sake, if one more goddamn person tells me I just need to relax, that it’ll happen when it’s meant to happen, my goddamn head is going to fucking explode.
“The insecurities. Oh, God, the soul-crushing insecurities.” A laugh bubbles, every bit as bitter as I am as I drag my hands down my tear-soaked face.
“A body that fails to do one of the things it was made to do. Something I can’t fix, something I can’t give you, no matter how hard I try.
The filthy fucking jealousy all those insecurities bring.
God, I’ve never felt anything like it, this deep longing that’s only grown disgustingly bitter with every passing month, every pregnancy announcement, every perfect, round belly and the excitement reserved just for them.
Skipping lines, seats in crowded places, special parking spaces.
Courtesies they deserve and privileges I literally couldn’t care less about, but it doesn’t matter.
It’s like a club I’m not allowed to be part of, no matter how bad I want it.
Jesus, Emmett, last week I looked at Olivia and Rosie and wondered, Why them?
Why the fuck not me? Why not us? For the first time in my life, I sat there and watched them talk about their pregnancies, the shopping they’ve been doing together, how much closer they’re getting, and I struggled to feel happy for them, and that made me hate myself more than anything.
” Another laugh, soon drowned out by the broken cries that make my shoulders curl.
I wrap my arms around my middle, wishing more than anything, for the first time in my life, that I could disappear as I whisper my next words.
“Nothing in my life has prepared me for the way infertility would make me hate myself.”
I look up at Emmett, a blurry, beautiful mess, tears that match mine streaming down his handsome face, a face I dreamed of falling asleep to, waking up to, for the rest of my life.
I wonder what he sees when he looks at me now.
Not the woman he fell for, the one he built a life with, shaped his world around.
Not the one who deserves a future with him.
Maybe that’s why I can’t look him in the eyes when I tell him, “I am self-destructing, Emmett, and I don’t know how to save myself. You need to save yourself before I take you down with me.”
He comes alive then, striding toward me.
Fingers wrap around my biceps, holding me in place as he stares down at me, blue eyes on fire.
“No. Stop that. Right now. I don’t need to be saved, and for once in your goddamn life, let me do the saving.
Let me be your rock, because you’ve always been everyone else’s.
Lean on me, Cara. You have to. I won’t let you sink. ”
“You don’t get it!” I struggle against his grip, but he holds me tighter, forces me to stay, to look at him.
Doesn’t he know I’ve never been weaker than when I’m staring into his eyes?
“I’m not who I was! I’m not the girl in the pictures!
Not anymore! You can… you can go. You should go!
I’m giving you permission, Emmett. Take it!
Find someone like that girl, confident and strong and not…
fucking… broken!” I sob harder, trying like hell to free myself.
“Why are you here, Emmett? Why are you still here when you could be anywhere else?”
“Because you’re here!” he shouts, hauling me against his heaving chest, forehead pressed to mine as he breathes.
His fingers flex around my wrists, squeezing and releasing, like he’s fighting for self-control.
“Because you’re here,” he repeats, barely a breath this time, his hands moving to my face, cradling it gently.
“You’re here, Cara, and I’m wherever you are.
Do you hear me? I am wherever you are. All of me.
I don’t exist without you.” He licks his lips, the tip of his tongue grazing my top one, catching a tear.
My heart squeezes. “You are allowed to cry. You’re allowed to be angry, furious even.
You’re allowed to be jealous and bitter and feel like this isn’t fair, because it fucking isn’t, is it?
You and me? We should get to create something as precious and beautiful as a child with the type of love we have, the kind that most people won’t ever get to experience.
You can feel whatever you need to feel. But you’ll do it with me.
All of it. Because I’ll be here, right where I’ve always been, at your side every goddamn step of the way.
Do you hear me? There is no me without you. I’m not leaving.”
I truly do not know what I’ve done in this life to deserve this man, this type of love he gives me without thinking twice, like it’s the only thing he’s ever been sure of.
“Breathe,” he whispers. “Breathe, baby.”
“I can’t… I can’t give you what you want,” I argue weakly.
“You give me everything I could ever want or need.”
“Somebody else could give you more.”
“Nobody could ever stack up to you.”
“I’ve changed, Emmett,” I cry softly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same person again.”
He brushes the hair away from my eyes, thumbs sweeping the tears off my cheeks. “You are perfect, exactly as you are.”
“I’m broken.”
“You’re perfect.”
My head shakes, fists balling again as my heart thuds that same angry beat I’ve gotten so used to, hellbent on pointing out all the ways I no longer measure up. “I. Am. Broken.”
Why isn’t he hearing me?
I expect the same argument, the same assurance he has no problem wielding. But this time, he doesn’t give it to me. This time, he closes his eyes, sinks into the tears rolling silently down his cheeks. This time, when his stare meets mine, unwavering and weighted with heartache, he agrees.
“You are. Your heart is in pieces. You’re not the same woman I met at a crowded party on New Year’s Day, or the one I married eighteen months later.
You’re not unshakable, the way I thought you were.
You aren’t whole. You’re heartbroken.” His eyes dip to follow the path of his thumb as it drags over my lower lip, collecting those tears.
When his gaze comes back to mine, it burns with certainty.
The same certainty he wore the night we met, when he told me I’d be his wife.
A year later when he gave me the ring on my finger, told me it didn’t mean a damn to him, that nothing did except having me by his side for the rest of his life.
When he took my hands at the altar six months later and promised me the same thing he’d been whispering in my ear all that time: to love me forever, to be my partner every step of the way.
“Your heart is a mosaic,” he tells me softly, my face in his warm, capable hands.
“Thousands of pieces woven together, each one with its own story. Your heart is beautiful and kind, and it loves the way it does not in spite of all its pieces, but because of them.” A gentle smile as he swipes at the tears on my cheekbones.
“You are what it means to grow. To bloom after a bitter winter. You aren’t the same as you were, but why would you be?
You get better every single day, even when I think there’s no possible way, because you are committed to loving yourself, to being the best version of you.
You aren’t the same; you’re better.” Soft lips sweep across mine, and my mouth can’t help chasing his.
“You are selfless. Compassionate. A voice for those who have none. Someone who’s strong for others when they can’t be strong for themselves.
You are not unshakable; you are fierce, unconditional love. ”
My chest shakes, a deep breath that rattles through me, and as Emmett breathes me in, my face clasped in his hands, it occurs to me it’s the first time in so, so long I’ve felt my lungs expand with life.
He presses his forehead to mine, eyes closing for only a moment before we collide, his words pressed to my lips so I can taste every single one of them.
“You aren’t whole. You’re broken. And that’s okay.
You have loved and you have lost, and every piece of you deserves its place.
You are a home for all your stories, the pieces that have shaped your life, that make you who you are.
The steps you’ve taken, the growth you’ve chased.
The fears you’ve conquered, and the lessons you’ve learned.
The friendships you’ve built, the love you’ve shaped with your bare hands.
Your dreams, and every single heartache.
You aren’t whole, but you aren’t meant to be.
You’re broken. And the beautiful thing about being broken?
There’s so much more space for the light to shine in.
And in that light, you get to rebuild yourself however the fuck you want to. ”
I always thought that unconditional love didn’t exist beyond childhood.
It’s the one time flaws are both expected and accepted.
You made mistakes, fell short of expectations, and there was always someone else you didn’t quite stack up to.
But—if you were lucky and had the kind of parents every child deserves to have—you were reminded that you were loved still, flaws and all.
But you grow up, and suddenly you should know better.
Be better. Try harder, be smarter, and never fall short.
You realize that, at any moment, someone can decide they’ve had enough.
They can pack up and leave, no explanation necessary. Even if you’re trying your damnedest.
But Emmett? Not Emmett.
He is… the long haul. He’s the sunny days and the smooth sailing. He’s the top down, the wind in his sun-kissed hair, and what happiness sounds like when he says there’s never been a more beautiful day. He’s the early-morning easy rides that lead into the quiet, peaceful nights.
And then he’s the steep hills. The treacherous climbs.
The days spent crawling along the edge of an icy cliff in the middle of a starless night, fighting to see the finish line through a blizzard hellbent on blinding you.
He’s the any weather, any time. The up-all-night, get-you-home-safe-no-matter-what-it-takes.
Emmett is the long haul. With me through the easy, with me through the hard.
With me.
A fresh wave of tears comes, but this time, it’s welcomed. Cleansing, powerful even, and I give in to every one of them as I throw my arms around Emmett’s neck, my legs around his waist as I finally—fucking finally—give it up.
The need to stand on my own. To save myself. To do it alone, just to prove that I’m capable. That I’m worthy.
And Emmett cries right along with me, clutching me tighter than he ever has, like nothing in his life has ever scared him the way the thought of losing me did, and I gasp out one strangled apology after another.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Emmett.”
“Shhh,” he whispers, soft against my temple as his hand moves over my back, a firm but soothing touch that eases the tension long since settled in my bones. “Breathe, baby. Breathe with me. Because I can’t breathe without you.”
And I want to. I want to breathe. I want my head to break the surface of the water. Want to feel my lungs fill with air, all the life they’ve been deprived of. I want to swim. Want to fight. For Emmett. And for me.
I want to fight for us. And I want to win.
I will win.
We will.