Chapter 11
Eleven
Angela
Okay, so I’m not sure exactly how this happened, but all three of my kids are asleep on sofas at Brad’s, and he and I are in the kitchen, still talking, at nine o’clock!
We. Never. Went. Home.
What. Is. Happening?
“I, uh, I should go.”
“You don’t have to. You guys are welcome to spend the night. We have a guest room for when Mary Alice’s parents come to visit.”
I can’t spend the night here. That would be crazy!
And inappropriate. And a million other things.
But the thought of waking my sleeping kids, driving home and battling them into bed is so repulsive that I find myself considering Brad’s kind offer.
“Jack and Ella would be up all night if I woke them now.”
“Mine would be, too. So you’ll stay?”
“It’s weird, right? For me to stay here?”
“How so? We’re friends, your kids are asleep, and it’d be a nightmare to move them at this point. No big deal.”
“Right. No big deal.”
“I’ll get some blankets for the kids and make sure the guest room is set for you and Josh.”
“Thank you.”
While he goes upstairs, I text my older sister, Tracy. Hey—just FYI we’re hanging at a friend’s house tonight. Didn’t want you to panic if you come by in the AM and we’re not there.
Thanks for letting me know. Which friend?
I think long and hard before I reply, knowing that whatever I tell her will lead to more questions. A new one.
I’ve said very little to anyone, even my sisters, about the friendship I’ve formed with Brad.
Since Sam introduced us at one of the hearings in the criminal case, we’ve kept in close touch, but no one really knows that.
I can’t bear the possibility that they’d think it’s too soon for me to have male friends.
I know that’s not reasonable, because they both want the best of everything for me, but for some reason, I haven’t told them.
Am I allowed to ask questions?
Not now!
Fine. Tomorrow, then. There’ll be questions.
Thanks for the warning, now go away.
Hey, Ang?
WHAT?
If you’re happy, I’m happy. Have fun.
Just a friend. Relax.
Love you.
Love you, too, busybody.
My sisters are my best friends, and there’s no way I would’ve gotten through suddenly losing Spencer without them and their families. But along with world-class support comes curiosity about what happens next for me and my kids. The last thing in the world I’m ready for is anything romantic.
I like being with Brad. He’s easy to talk to, and he’s going through the same thing I am. That’s all this is.
I’ve wandered out to check on the kids when my phone buzzes with another text that I assume is also from Tracy, who can be like a bloodhound when she catches a scent on the wind.
But it’s not Tracy. It’s Luke, the doctor/widowed father of four I met through the Wild Widows. Hey, can you chat? Crazy day around here. Could use a good vent.
I’ve texted with him a lot since we met, and he’s asked me to get coffee, but that hasn’t happened yet.
Can’t tonight. Maybe tomorrow?
Sure, sounds good. Have a good night.
You, too.
I no sooner send that text than Brad comes downstairs with blankets that he puts over my sleeping kids and a rolled-up something he hands to me.
“Sweats and a T-shirt to sleep in. Thanks to Mary Alice’s incredible efficiency, we also have spare toothbrushes.”
“Five-star accommodations. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. It’s fun to have the company.”
I follow him into the kitchen and place the clothes he loaned me on a chair.
“How about a glass of wine, since you don’t have to drive?”
I haven’t had a drink in ages, not since I was first pregnant with Josh. One glass of wine probably won’t hurt anything. “What do you have?”
He goes to the cabinet over his refrigerator and takes a look. “My sisters were here recently, so I have Rosé and Chardonnay.” He opens a cabinet over the stove. “And Pinot Noir.”
“Rosé, please.”
“Coming right up.” As he gets out glasses and finds a corkscrew, I watch the way his soft gray T-shirt clings to his muscular torso. Why am I so interested in how his T-shirt fits him?
He spins around to ask me something and catches me looking.
A slow, lazy smile spreads across his handsome face. “Whatcha looking at?”
I’m mortified to have been caught gawking. “I, um, I was just spacing out.”
He smiles as he pours the wine and brings it to the table. “This is nice.”
“What is?”
“Your kids and my kids asleep, and you here to hang out with. This is often the toughest time of day for me, when everything is done and I’m reminded once again of how alone I am.”
“I get that. It’s the silence after everyone else is asleep.”
“No one to binge-watch shows with or talk to or just… anything. It’s such a weird void after being married for so many years.”
We’ve talked before about how he was married to Mary Alice for seven years, while I was married to Spencer for almost ten.
“Not to mention together for years before we got married,” I add.
“Same.” He takes a sip of his wine and then meets my gaze across the table. “I’m trying to figure out who I am as a single guy again. It’s the weirdest freaking thing to accept I’m not married anymore. I can date if I want to. Not that I want to. Not really.”
“You’ll be ready for that someday.”
“What about you? Do you think about that?”
We haven’t talked about this before. Most of our conversations have focused on helping our kids through the sudden, traumatic loss of a parent and getting through the days without the help of our partners.
We talk about the anger, too. There’s been a lot of that over the way they died, even if we don’t blame them. Most of the time, anyway.
“I think about it, but with three little kids, including a seventeen-month-old, I’m not exactly prime dating material.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a beautiful, fun, smart, caring woman. Anyone would be lucky to date you.”
“Oh… well… thanks.”
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t thought of myself in those terms in quite some time. I’ve been very, very married.”
“Yeah, me, too. It’s incredibly strange to not be anymore.”
“Do you think about taking off your ring?”
“Every day. I debate it over and over again, wondering why I still have it on when she’s been gone for a year and a half and what it’ll mean to take it off.”
I glance down at my stunning diamond solitaire and the matching band. “I love my rings so much. I hate the idea of not wearing them anymore.”
“Could you wear them on the other hand?”
“I’ve thought of that. I might switch them over at some point.”
“Feels fucking final to take the rings off, even to put them on the other hand, doesn’t it?”
“It really does, not that it hasn’t felt fucking final for a while now. Sometimes I still can’t believe it happened.”
He grimaces. “And we’ve got the fucking trial to look forward to.”
They’d both been notified by the U.S. Attorney’s Office that they could be called to testify.
“Fuck this shit.”
He laughs. “Fuck it to hell and back.”
We’re finishing our wine when I hear Josh stirring in the other room. I rush out to get him before he wakes Jack and Ella and bring him back to the kitchen, where Brad has dimmed the lights for us.
Josh has been fed and changed, so he’s just looking for some mommy snuggles that I happily give him.
“He’s a sweet little guy.”
“I’m so lucky to have gotten an easy baby after losing Spence. If he’d been Ella two-point-oh, I would’ve been losing it. She had colic and barely slept the first year.”
“Yikes.”
“It was rough, but I had help. Spence was great with her. He spent a lot of nights walking the floor with her so I could get some rest.”
“Drake was like that, too. I worked nights, so it was tough on Mary Alice.”
“What’s the latest on going back to work?”
He’s been on an extended leave of absence while he adjusted to single parenthood.
“It’s on for the first of the year, and they’re moving me to days, so my schedule aligns with the kids’, but that means a whole new group of coworkers and possibly a different station—and still some occasional night shifts that no one can avoid.
” He shrugs. “Not what I would’ve chosen, but none of this is my choice. ”
“Reminder that the GoFundMe my friends did for me after Spence died raised a ton of money, thanks to my sister and brother-in-law promoting it. I’m happy to share it with my fellow widow friends.”
Mary Alice didn’t have life insurance, and while there were fundraisers for him and his kids that have sustained him while he was out of work, they didn’t raise a fraction of what mine brought in thanks to Sam and Nick’s support of the fundraiser that Sam’s partner, Freddie, started.
Before his death, Spencer had lost his job and his life insurance along with it, so I would’ve been totally screwed without the fundraiser.
“You’re going to need that money, Angela. Don’t give it away.”
“I’ll need a fraction of what was raised, and if I could help to make your life easier and the lives of other young widows, why wouldn’t I?”
“I wouldn’t feel right taking money from a friend.”
“These aren’t ordinary times, Brad. You should think about how it could make life so much easier for you during this difficult transition. You could work part time instead of full time or change direction altogether. Whatever works for you and your family.”
“It’s kind of you to want to help me.”
“I want to help everyone who needs it. Young widowhood is a tough journey, especially for families like ours that didn’t have life insurance.”
“Who worries about things like that in their twenties or early thirties?”
“I didn’t. Spence had it through work until he lost his job, and it never occurred to us to get it for me.”
“Same here—I have it through work, but we never got it for Mary Alice because she was a stay-at-home mom. Obviously, it never occurred to either of us that she could die young and leave me in a mess.”
I reach over to put my hand on top of his. “Let me help you.”
He stares at our joined hands for a long moment. “I’ll think about it.”
“It would make me happy to help you. This terrible tragedy has led to new friends, and we’re going to survive this together.”
Brad blinks back tears that seem to take him by surprise. “That makes it bearable… Knowing we’re going to survive together.”
“Of course we are. We’re friends forever after this.”
“Friends forever,” he says gruffly.
Taylor
I’m in bed with my kids asleep on either side of me and the baby playing an aggressive game of soccer in my belly as I stare up at the ceiling.
I need to pee, but I can’t move without disturbing the kids.
It took hours to get them to sleep after another devastating day.
They have a million questions about what happened to their daddy, where he is now, what happens next, can he still see us, will he get to meet the baby before he’s born.
Each one is like a knife to my broken heart.
I don’t know what to tell them because none of it makes sense to me either.
The outpouring of love and support from everyone we know has been overwhelming.
Food has come pouring in, along with flowers and offers of help with the kids and anything else we might need.
As much as I appreciate everyone, it’s bringing back memories of the early days after Greg died, a time I’d prefer to never revisit.
But here I am, wallowing in the horror of losing two husbands. How is this our fate?
What am I going to do with two devastated kids and a new baby to care for on my own?
The path before me feels dark and hopeless, but in all the madness, the one spark of light has been hearing from Will’s insurance company that they’re working on paying out his life insurance expeditiously.
That’ll make a huge difference for me as I stare down life without him.
All I want is for Will to come breezing in, flashing that sexy, irresistible grin and telling me everything is going to be fine the way he always did when my anxiety got the better of me. But he’s never coming back, and I’m not at all certain that everything will be all right. Not this time.
I long for him, for his touch, his kind heart and his immense love for me and the kids. He infused my life with hope, optimism and faith that my best days were still ahead of me rather than behind me, as I’d believed after Greg died.
Now what?
My bladder is about to burst when I finally inch my way down between the kids, trying to get out of bed without waking them or peeing my pants, either or both of which is possible. I’m almost out when Miles raises his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, honey,” I say in a whisper, praying Eliza won’t wake up, too. “I have to go to the bathroom. Go back to sleep.”
“Are you coming right back?”
“I will. I promise.”
He drops his head to the pillow and sighs. I imagine he’s remembering—again—that Will died, and that’s why he’s sleeping in our bed.
My bed. It’s my bed now.
I make it into the bathroom just in the nick of time, relieving my bladder as tears slide down my face in a steady stream that feels like it might never stop this time.
My head feels too heavy to hold up, so I drop it into my hands and bite my lip to keep from wailing.
I wish I could, but that would scare my traumatized children, and I’d never want to add to their grief by making them worry about me, too.
Since I’ve been here, done this before, I’m well aware that I have no choice but to survive the loss of Will.
I have no choice but to rally for my soon-to-be three children and to continue to put one foot in front of the other the way I did after we lost Greg.
But I really, really, really don’t want to do any of it.
If it was just me, I’d crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and stay there as long as I could, until the searing ache in my chest let up enough for me to breathe comfortably.
That’s not going to happen.
What will happen is the sun rising in the morning, the kids waking and looking to me for guidance on how to get through this devastating loss. I’ll be there for them every step of the way.
Because I have no choice in the matter.