Chapter 14
Fourteen
Christy
I’m in bed before Trey, who’s basically living with us.
My children love him as much as I do and are enjoying having a father figure again, even if they’ll never stop missing their dad or reliving the day we lost him.
That memory lives rent-free in all our minds as much as we’d like to forget the horror of him dropping dead right in front of us.
Will’s death has brought those memories to the surface as I try to put myself in Taylor’s place, wondering how in the hell she’ll see her kids through yet another tremendous loss.
It’s simply unimaginable, and all day, I’ve been forced to wonder whether I’m doing the right thing for my kids by letting them fall in love with Trey.
What if we lose him, too? How would we ever survive such a thing after what we’ve already been through?
I’m in an anxiety-fueled spin. I know it, but I can’t seem to make it stop.
I’ve been so, so happy since I decided to go all in with Trey.
The kids have been, too. He’s gone above and beyond to connect with them without trying to force them to accept him.
The four of us are slowly becoming a family, which has brought joy back into our home.
Not that we need a man to make us whole.
We don’t. If it was just the three of us forever, we would’ve been fine, and we’d have found plenty of joy on our own.
Trey brings new energy, new interests, new everything.
I love him madly, deeply, desperately, all of which makes me vulnerable in a way I never would’ve chosen to be again. But when love is standing right in front of you, daring you to take the risk, what else can you do but live and love and hope for the best?
He comes out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, whistling a jaunty tune as he strolls bare-ass naked into the bedroom that’s become ours over the last few months.
We even went to the store to pick out new bedding and towels that are “ours” to replace the ones that were just mine.
Like everything we do, Trey made that fun by joking about the various patterns and which ones were chick-only and which ones were for chicks with dudes.
The lease on his townhouse expires at the end of next month, but he’s mostly moved out already.
Trey lives with us now. He’s part of our family.
He’s helping to raise my children. He drives them to practices and picks them up at friends’ homes after sleepovers.
He knows all their friends’ names and has inside jokes with most of them.
Even homework has become more bearable because he’s willing to help wherever he’s needed.
Thankfully, he gets algebra and geometry, which is such a blessing because I’d be in big trouble with that on my own.
As he gets into bed and comes to my side to snuggle up to me, I wish he wasn’t here—and that’s a first. I’m well aware of why I’m feeling this way tonight, but that doesn’t make it any easier to cope with.
Trey, being Trey, picks right up on my unusual lack of enthusiasm for bedtime. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Can I do anything for you?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to sleep somewhere else tonight?”
I glance at him, trying to determine if he’s pissed, but the only thing I see is the usual loving support I always get from him. “No.”
“Any time you need some space from me and/or us, all you have to do is say so. I understand there’re parts of you I don’t have access to, and that’s okay. But I’m right here if I can help.”
My chin wobbles and my eyes fill as he says the perfect thing, as usual. “Thank you.”
He takes my hand and laces his fingers through mine.
I can’t stop thinking of Taylor’s face, flat with shock and disbelief, reminiscent of how I felt the day we lost Wes.
When tragedy comes with no warning, it seems to take longer to accept.
For weeks after Wes died, I didn’t believe he was really gone.
I didn’t have months or years of terminal illness to prepare me for his eventual death.
That morning, I’d had sex with my perfectly healthy, almost-forty-year-old husband, who later went to do some work in the yard and came in gasping for air before dropping dead in the mudroom.
My scream brought the kids running toward us.
I’ve regretted that scream every hour since then.
If only I’d held it together, I might’ve spared them from witnessing their father’s death.
But I had literal seconds to process that he was dying right in front of me.
It’s been a long time since I dwelled on the events of that day.
They tend to live in a back corner of my mind that I keep sealed off so I wouldn’t be regularly retraumatized as I worked so hard to rebuild our lives without Wes.
We’ve done a good job of that, in my humble opinion, but Taylor’s tragedy has reopened the old wounds, as much as I wish that wasn’t the case.
I have a whole new life, one that I love as much as I loved the old one.
I love Trey the same way I loved Wes, with my whole heart and soul, and my kids do, too.
Life is good for all of us, the way I once wondered if it ever would be again.
We did it. We survived something that could’ve destroyed us all, and we did it with courage, perseverance and determination to rediscover joy and optimism.
We did it with the help of so many people who made sure we were ready when Trey came along.
And now… My sweet, sweet friend Taylor is back to day one a second time, and the very thought of it is almost more than I can bear to imagine.
She’s been one of my closest people since we were introduced in the aftermath of our initial losses by a mutual friend who thought we might benefit from having someone to talk to who understood.
Oh, how we benefited. Taylor and I hit it off from the first time we met for coffee and quickly became everyday best friends. I was one of her attendants when she married Will, whom I also adored. My heart is shattered for both of them and their kids.
But especially for Taylor. The thought of her having to rise up from the ashes—a second time—and guide herself and her children through another tragic loss is just so abhorrent to me that I feel like it’s happening to me, as crazy as that sounds. That’s how deeply I feel for her.
A sob erupts from my chest.
Trey wraps his arms around me and holds me as I dissolve into grief and heartbreak.
It’s so fucking unfair.
I wish I could run away and hide from this situation, but I’d never leave my dear friend at such a time. I’ll stay and support her every step of the way, but my heart is broken once again, and it won’t be put back together overnight.
Iris
I have to tell Lexi about Taylor’s loss before our usual weekly meeting tonight, but she’s been so deliriously happy since she and Tom got engaged last weekend that it’s making me sick to think about making that call.
“You have to tell her,” Gage says over morning coffee after he took the kids to school.
“I know, and I’m not sure why I’m being such a wimp about it. She barely knows Taylor.”
“But the news will upset her anyway, and that’s why you’re putting it off.
” He leans in, his expression as serious as it ever is.
“Can you see the toll this takes on you, love? This is what I’m talking about.
You feel a responsibility to tell Lexi news that’ll be devastating to her, which means first, you have to be devastated on her behalf. ”
He’s the wisest person any of us knows, and he sees me in a way that Mike never did, as much as I hate to compare them.
Gage has the “benefit” of having lived through one of the worst tragedies I’ve ever heard of, which has given him hard-won insight and understanding of the human condition that Mike never had.
Mike was devoted to his family and to flying. That was it. After he died, I found out he was also devoted to Eleanor, the mother of his other child, Carter, both of whom I’ve since met and formed a bond with. But Mike wasn’t emotionally intelligent the way Gage is.
“I see it, and I feel it, but I need to be there for them. In so many ways, my work with widows has given my life purpose that it never had before I lost Mike. Yes, being a mother is my primary purpose and the one that brings me untold amounts of joy every day. But my widows… They give me something I never had before, a feeling that I was born to do this work, even if that sounds nuts. I mean, who’s born to be a widow, you know? ”
“I do, and I get what you’re saying. I feel that sense of purpose, too.”
“It’s different for you because you also had a very successful career.
I’ve done some cool things professionally, but I never had a runaway success until I helped found the Wild Widows.
We’ve done so much good through that group and gained so many friends who are like family.
It’s begun to feel like a true calling to me, and the idea of walking away from it because it’s hard sometimes doesn’t seem right. ”
I glance at him, feeling shy as I ponder whether to share the other thing that’s been on my mind lately.
“What?” he asks, brow raised in inquiry.
“I’ve actually been thinking lately… just here and there…”
“About?”
“Your book… I was thinking maybe I could participate in some way. Not that you need me to make it great, but our story is pretty cool.”
“You’d want to do that?”
“I think maybe I would.”
“I’d love to work on the book together. I’ve been kind of all over the place with it. Maybe if we did it together, you could keep me focused.”
I get up to refill our mugs. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to take me on if you don’t want to.” When I return to the table, I find myself on his lap with his arms wrapped around me.
“As you know, I love taking you on.” He punctuates that sentences with a kiss to my neck that sends a shiver through me and makes me giggle.
“Be serious.”
“I’m deadly serious about you.”
“Don’t say ‘deadly.’ It’s bad juju when we’ve had more than enough of that.”
“Yes, dear. And yes, I want to write a book with you. Let’s do that. We’ve got one hell of a story to share between the two of us.”
“So much for backing away from the widow scene.”
“I heard what you said about it being a calling, and I’d never want to get in the way of that. My concern will always be that you’re taking care of you—and letting me take care of you—while you’re taking care of everyone else.”
“Thank you for caring so much about me, and for seeing me the way you do. That’s an incredible gift to me in this new life of ours.”
He nuzzles my neck and holds me tight. “I hate that four people had to die for us to have this, but I love every fucking thing about this new life of ours.”
“I do, too, and I feel the same push-pull of grief and joy that you do every single day.”
“I honestly don’t think I could’ve moved on with someone who wasn’t also a widow.”
“That was the first thing that attracted you? My widow-ness?”
“Haha, as you know, the first thing that attracted me was your naked ass in my bed.”
I absolutely love when he brings up that night, which we still “argue” was an accident on my part, a case of mixing up the rooms in a weekend rental. I’m such a liar. It was totally on purpose, which he also knows. But I’ll never cop to that. “So that was the first time you were attracted?”
“Not even kinda, but that was the first time I couldn’t stop myself from acting on it.”
“And look at us now.”
“Look at us now.”
“What’re we going to do about the wedding?” I ask. “If we decide to postpone, we need to do it sooner rather than later, so we can tell people who are traveling.”
“I don’t think we should postpone.”
“But—”
He plants a soft, sweet kiss on my lips. “Hear me out on this. After we attend Will’s funeral and do everything we can to help Taylor and the kids through these first days, it might be good for everyone to have a reason to celebrate.”
“I’m not sure I can do that to Taylor.”
“What would she want you to do?”
I drop my head to his shoulder. “She’d want me to have the wedding, even if she’s not up for attending.”
“Then that’s what we ought to do. It might be just what the rest of our widows need to restore their faith in optimism.”
“You’re right, as usual. I just don’t want to appear selfish in the midst of Taylor’s unimaginable loss.”
“Iris, my love… That’s the last thing anyone who truly knows you would ever think you are.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s the God’s honest truth. You’re the least selfish person any of us has ever met.”
“You know I’m a sure thing, right? I’m going to marry you, so you don’t need to fill my head with sweet nothings.”
“I’ll always fill your head with sweet everythings.”
“I’m so glad I ended up naked in your bed by mistake.”
His snort of laughter makes me laugh, too. “Mistake, my ass.”
“There’s nothing about your ass that’s a mistake. It’s a work of art.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so, and as the wife, I’m always right.”
“Is that a fact? Maybe I should reconsider this wedding.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Wouldn’t think of it, love. I can’t wait to be married to you.”
“I can’t wait either,” I say with a giddy little laugh that I instantly regret when I think of what Taylor must be feeling this morning.
“Don’t do that, Iris.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Feel guilty for being happy. Taylor wouldn’t want that either.”
“Quit knowing me so well. It’s maddening.”
That earns me another big laugh, every one of them a victory when I think about the somber man who joined our group after the most tragic of losses.
“What do you say to marrying me on Thanksgiving weekend?”
I smile as I kiss him. “I say, I do.”