29. Lucy
twenty-nine
Lucy
My life is so unfair. As I sip my coffee from the beautiful blue mug Nate bought for me, I conduct a lament in my mind for all the reasons that life has dealt me a terrible hand.
Other than the whole chronic illness thing, the main grievance I have is that my husband is an attentive spouse and an incredibly involved father, but he’s totally off-limits.
Every time we’re alone together, I can’t bring myself to look at him for too long, for fear of admitting that I have a crush on him. That’s clearly all this is—just a crush. I can’t admit it to him because that’s not what he signed up for.
He’s in this for practical purposes, not for feelings.
Maybe this crush will pass. My chest aches as the thought goes through my mind, and I pose the silent question: Do I want it to pass?
My pity party is interrupted by a chime from my phone. When I see who sent the email, excitement—and maybe a little dread—builds in my gut. But as I read the first line, that feeling deflates like an air mattress with a puncture. I sigh and let my eyes slip closed.
“What’s wrong?”
I meet Nate’s gaze for a moment as he sits on the floor. He was building a block tower with Quinn and stayed there when she moved on to something else.
I lock my phone screen and set it on the couch beside me. “Just another email letting me know that I didn’t get a new job for the school year.”
Nate frowns. “Do you still want one?”
I shrug. “Yes and no. I had planned on it to solve my financial and healthcare problems, but…” I swallow and run a finger around the rim of the coffee mug, watching the warm afternoon sunlight glint off my wedding band. “That’s not a pressing issue now.”
He purses his lips. “If you don’t get a new job, will you go back to teaching at the preschool for the school year?”
I smile at Quinn as she bangs her toy on the couch. “That’s the plan.”
He nods, frowning like he’s thinking through a math problem.
“What’s wrong?”
His hazel eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just… if you go back to work full time, we’ll have to find someone to keep Quinn.”
My brows rise, and heat builds in my chest as I realize I hadn’t considered arranging childcare for the school year.
Our current arrangement is so seamless that I didn’t think about it changing in a couple of weeks.
I’m here for Quinn when Nate goes to work, and he’s here when I work at the preschool’s summer program. It’s easy.
And the thought of someone else taking care of Quinn doesn’t sit right with me. I love being here for her. As I consider missing that time with her—and being replaced by someone else—my stomach squeezes.
He crosses his arms as his eyes roam my face. “Do you want to go back?”
I frown, feeling heat flood my cheeks. I’ve never asked about our finances before, and it feels a bit awkward. “Can we afford for me not to go back?”
He tilts his head and nods. “I’ll have to run some numbers, but I think we could swing it. Especially considering the money we’d save in childcare if you stayed home with Quinn.”
I could be a stay-at-home mom. That’s always been my dream. This isn’t exactly how I pictured it, but that doesn’t mean it would be any less incredible.
I lift my shoulders in a shrug and hold them. “I could always sign up to be a substitute at Willow Bend Elementary. Then I could work on days that you’re off.”
His brows rise, and he nods. “That’s not a bad idea. If that’s what you want, I think it would work well for our fa— for us.”
He scratches the back of his head, and something in my chest loosens at his almost admission. “I would love that.”
He smirks, avoiding my gaze. “Okay. It’s a plan then.”
He turns to the TV as Wes Carter takes the pitcher’s mound. Watching a childhood friend—and Emerson’s ex-boyfriend—playing professional sports on TV will never stop being strange.
“Da… Da, da, da.”
My gaze darts to Quinn as she takes her hands off the couch and stands independently, jabbering with her focus on Nate a few feet in front of her, like she’s trying to get his attention.
He turns from the TV to look at her, his eyes widening as he realizes she’s standing without support.
His gaze flies to me, and I raise my brows.
I set my mug on the end table and grab my phone. I start recording as Quinn smiles at Nate and calls, “Dada.”
He blinks and holds his hands out for her. “Are you coming over here, Quinnie the Pooh?”
She grins and claps. She stomps her foot, and Nate’s brows rise. She clasps her hands in front of her and takes a tiny step forward.
Nate’s smile is massive. “Keep going, Quinnifred.”
Quinn takes another step and jabbers, “Dada, da, da, da.”
He nods, hands outstretched as he leans forward, ready to catch her if she stumbles. “Good job, big girl. You’re doing it!”
She takes four quick steps and falls forward into Nate’s waiting arms. I stand and cheer, still recording. “That was incredible, Quinn!”
She grins and laughs at our reactions, clapping her little hands.
I prop the phone on a throw pillow, so we’re all in the frame as it continues recording, then sit on the floor in front of Nate and Quinn. I hold my arms out and smile. “Can you do it again? Can you walk to Lucy?”
Nate stands her up in front of him and holds her hips until she’s steady. Once she has her balance, he moves his hands away, keeping them close enough to catch her if she tips over.
She points at me and says, “Lu.”
I nod as I clap my hands and reach for her. “Come on, big girl. You can do it.”
She takes a wobbly step, and Nate’s eyes glaze over. I smile and clap. “Good job. Keep going.”
Quinn takes two more steps and leans, but Nate steadies her with one hand. She laughs and takes three quick steps forward, falling into my arms.
I scoop her up and kiss her cheeks, tickling her belly as I praise her big accomplishment.
But Nate’s smile fades slowly. His eyes slip closed, and I reach for the phone, turning off the video as Nate battles with his emotions.
He takes a few deep breaths, but his chin quivers. His eyes pop open, and he clears his throat. “I’ll be right back.”
He stands, straightening his shorts, and darts into the dining room. He runs a hand through his hair as he vanishes into the kitchen.
I grab the remote and turn off the baseball game Nate was watching—he can check Wes Carter’s stats and watch the highlight reel later—and turn on something Quinn will watch for a few minutes. I hug and kiss Quinn, still praising her first steps as I slide her into the walker.
Quietly, I step through the dining room and into the kitchen, silently asking God to give me the right words to comfort Nate.
When my gaze snags on him, hunched over the counter, taking shaky breaths, my chest squeezes.
I close the distance between us and run a hand up his back.
He jumps and turns toward me, then quickly turns away, running a hand over his face.
He clears his throat. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
I walk around him and meet his gaze, but he turns toward the island and clenches his jaw. I tuck myself into the space between him and the counter and set my hands on his waist.
His eyes meet mine, shining with tears and shame, and I lean closer. “You’re not fine, and that’s okay. Stop trying to bottle it up.”
He draws a ragged breath and shakes his head. He keeps his gaze trained somewhere over my right shoulder. Tears build in his eyes as his chin trembles.
I squeeze his sides and lean closer. “Look at me, Nate.”
He sniffles and tenses his chin, trying to pull himself together. When his gaze swings to me, his eyes are swimming in tears.
My chest aches, and I have to stop myself from wrapping my arms around him. “Talk to me. What’s going through your mind right now?”
He closes his eyes and blows a long, shaky breath.
“The day before they bought the bike…” His jaw clenches as his breathing stutters in his chest. “I told Vi that I wanted to see Quinn’s first steps in person, not on a shaky video…
” His chin quivers, and he shakes his head.
“And now, I got to see her first steps, and Vi didn’t. ”
I close my eyes and bite my lip, drawing a sharp breath as I feel a fraction of the pain he’s carrying. No wonder he’s still having nightmares. I’ve heard him wake in a panic in the middle of the night several times. He’s still carrying so much grief.
When I open my eyes again, releasing a wave of tears, his chest is rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.
He sets a hand on his stomach and shakes his head.
“It’s not right. They should be here. I should be watching Quinn’s first steps on a shaky phone video, and they should be here celebrating with her. ”
As his eyes open, a tear slides down his cheek, and the broken pieces of my heart send stabbing pains through my chest. I move my hands up to his shoulders and lean closer.
“You’re right. They should be here. But I’m sure they’re in Heaven, taking comfort in the fact that you’re here for this moment with her. ”
He clenches his jaw as more tears spill down his cheeks. He shakes his head. “It hurts too much, Luce.”
I set my hands on his chest and rub soothing circles over his heart as I try to pull in a breath around the lump forming in my throat.
His breathing stutters under my hands, and I try to catch his gaze, but his tear-filled eyes are focused somewhere over my head.
Sliding my fingers across his cheeks, I cup his jaw and pull his face down to meet my gaze.
I focus on his hazel eyes and draw a slow breath. “I’m sorry that it hurts. But shoving it aside and hiding it won’t make it better. The only way out of this is through it, Nate. You have to let yourself feel it and process it so that you can cope.”
His jaw rolls under my palms, and he shakes his head. “I can’t.”
I nod and run my fingers into his hair. “You can. I’ve got you.”
I stretch onto my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck.
After a few more stuttering breaths, he sets his forehead on my shoulder and wraps his arms around my waist. The force of his grip pushes me into the cabinet, and I tighten my arms around him.
He inhales shakily and exhales a sob. I run my hands across his back and shoulders, trying to soothe him as he clutches my back with his long fingers.
“This isn’t fair,” he mumbles into my shoulder.
I close my eyes and release a long breath as his voice echoes my earlier thoughts.
I don’t know how long I hold Nate’s shaking shoulders, but I don’t let go until his sobs still and his breathing evens out. He keeps his forehead on my shoulder and draws a slow, steady breath. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head and set my hands on his shoulders, pushing him back gently, so he’ll look at me. As his gaze meets mine, he keeps his arms around my waist, and my stomach flutters. “Don’t apologize for your grief, Nate.”
His jaw clenches, and I can see the shame starting to build in his eyes again. I set a hand on his jaw, trying to reassure him. “You don’t have to hide your emotions to be strong. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to miss them. And it’s okay to show those feelings to Quinn—important, even.”
“I don’t want to make her sad, too. This should be a happy moment. We should be celebrating and helping her walk all over the living room. But I’m in here crying like a—”
I set my finger over his lips. “Like a man who has lost a lot and is still dealing with grief. Because of what you’ve been through, happy moments are going to be tinged with sadness. Every first is going to sting a little. But that won’t stop us from celebrating the good things.”
Slowly, I let my finger fall away from his lips, not letting myself get distracted by how warm and soft they are.
His eyes dart between mine, then land on my shoulder. He releases a long breath and runs his fingertips along my collarbone to the top of my arm. “I got your shirt wet.”
My heart stutters at his gentle touch. I set my hand on his chest, drawing courage from the steady beat of his heart under my palm. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”
His eyes dart between mine, and he swallows roughly. “Thank you for being here for me.”
I lean toward him, feeling an almost magnetic pull. “I always will be.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, and my breath leaves in a rush of air as my lips part. My stomach fills with butterflies, and my heart beats in double time as his hands grip my back and he leans closer.
My eyes sting with tears as I let myself admit that I want this. I want Nate’s arms around me. I want to be the person he turns to when things get hard. I want to hold him and comfort him through the pain.
I want to kiss him.
My breath catches as I run a hand into his hair and pull him closer.
A loud crash from the living room has us jumping apart.
“Da! Da, da, da,” Quinn calls.
I clear my throat. “She’s in the walker. I think she ran it into the gate.”
Nate nods and breathes deeply. He runs a hand through his hair and mumbles something that sounds like, “Great timing.”
My shoulders drop, and my stomach feels hollow. I cross my arms to mask the empty feeling, but holding myself pales in comparison to how it felt to be held by Nate.
Nate clears his throat and backs toward the dining room. “I’m going to—”
He cuts himself off with a head tilt and ducks out of the kitchen.
It feels as though he took all the warmth in the room with him. I clench my jaw and drop my gaze to my feet, feeling so incredibly stupid for the hope I allowed to grow in my gut. I know better. I know this is practical—healthcare and childcare.
But in that moment, it felt like… more.
I run a hand through my hair and draw a slow, steadying breath. Emotions were high, but none of them were the right emotions for a move like that. He only reacted the way he did because I was there for him. I was close and comfortable.
I was convenient.
I shake my head as tears well in my eyes again, hoping the motion will erase the way it felt to be held by my husband, and the hope that grew in his embrace.
I can’t afford feelings like that. I can’t risk hoping he feels whatever this is, too.
I can’t let myself believe that he’ll fall for me. That’s not what he signed up for.
Healthcare and childcare.
Those words feel like open wounds in my gut.