Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HAYDEN
I wake before my alarm, the house still cloaked in a fragile quiet that only exists right before dawn.
Today has been looming for weeks, weighing heavily on my mind.
Exactly one year ago, I watched as my wife was wheeled into an operating room so four strangers could have a second chance at life.
I’d rather mark the day with something Cora loved. Ice skating with the kids. Sledding until our fingers are numb. Decorating cookies with far too much frosting and sprinkles.
Instead, we’ll spend the morning in a church pew, followed by a reception hosted by my father-in-law, where he’ll keep an eagle eye on everyone to make sure they’re grieving the way he’d want them to.
To make sure I’m grieving the way he wants me to.
I understand why he needs this. This is his way of honoring Cora’s memory.
At first, I thought it’s how I needed to honor her memory, too. Go to church services. Leave flowers at her grave. Mourn her every day.
And I do.
But I don’t feel the need to put it on display.
I pad downstairs and start the coffee, the soft gurgle and hiss filling the kitchen. I run a hand over my face as I clear the proverbial cobwebs from yet another night of broken sleep. As I do, I glance out the window, spying a figure on the front porch.
Rowan’s sitting on the swing, wrapped in a sweater, the rising sun painting her in soft gold. She looks peaceful. Serene.
Like nothing bad can ever touch her.
A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it.
It’s been happening more and more lately, my body reacting to her before my brain can remind me why it shouldn’t.
Weeks ago, she was a stranger I struggled to trust.
Now she’s threaded through our lives so seamlessly I can’t remember what the house felt like before her laugh echoed through it.
Jemmy lights up whenever she walks into a room, all smiles and giggles. He’s not the only one, either. Presley’s smiling again, especially when cooking with Rowan, both of them dancing to whatever music has captured their attention.
Lately, it’s been Taylor Swift.
I’ve never had an opinion about her music, but now I look forward to coming home just to hear Rowan belting “Shake It Out” at the top of her lungs as she dances with my daughter.
There have been a few times I was convinced Presley was about to start singing with her.
She hasn’t yet, but that doesn’t matter.
Rowan’s teaching my daughter how to be heard again.
Despite my father-in-law’s argument against Presley learning sign language, I agreed to let Rowan teach her. Presley’s therapist believes it’s a step in the right direction.
I think it is, too.
After my coffee finishes brewing, I prepare a second cup the way Rowan takes it. Then I pull my Northwestern sweatshirt over my head and step onto the porch.
“Do you mind some company?” I ask, holding up a mug. “I brought you a coffee.”
“In that case, you’re more than welcome,” she replies with a smile, scooting over on the bench swing.
I sit beside her, our shoulders almost touching. The wood creaks softly as we rock, the scent of coffee mingling with pine and the cold morning air.
“I’ve never actually sat on this,” I admit.
“You’re missing out. It’s one of my favorite things about your house. And the view… It’s incredible.”
I study her as she peers at the sun rising over the mountains in the distance, casting the world in various hues of pink and blue.
“Yes, it is,” I agree.
But I’m not looking at the horizon. I’m looking at her.
At the way the sunlight catches in her dark hair, making it seem more reddish-brown.
At the tattoo covering up the scar I think about more than I should.
At how damn beautiful she is.
And not just on the outside either. But what I find most beautiful is her heart.
She’s so kind, caring, witty, charming. I’m drawn to her in ways I can’t explain.
Ways I shouldn’t be, all things considered.
But I can’t help myself. It’s why I’ve been inviting her to have dinner with us more and more, and not as our nanny.
Sensing my stare on her, she glances at me. I quickly look away and sip on my coffee, pretending she didn’t just catch me checking her out.
“I can’t remember the last time I watched a sunrise,” I say, needing to fill the space. “Probably the day Presley was born. She came right after midnight. Cora was exhausted, so I stayed up holding her.”
A few months ago, the memory would make my throat tighten. Hell, a few months ago, I wouldn’t even be sharing this with anyone. But it feels good to talk about these things. To remember the happy times. Not dwell on the loss or grief.
“I watched the sun come up through the hospital window and was so damn worried I was going to screw up this whole parenting thing. That I’d fail Presley. That she’d hate me.” I huff out a quiet laugh. “I still wake up with that fear. Guess it never really goes away.”
Rowan nudges my arm gently. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re a good dad, Hayden.”
“Some days, it feels like I’m barely holding on, as you’ve seen for yourself.”
“I think most parents feel that way. It’s a scary thing. You go into the hospital just the two of you and leave with an extra human. Pretty sure they do more vetting when you adopt a dog than when you have a kid.”
I chuckle. “I checked Presley’s car seat so many times before we left the hospital. All Cora wanted to do was take a shower and lie down in her own bed. But I needed to make sure Presley would be safe. Then I drove so damn slowly on the way home. I bet I never went over forty. Even on the freeway.”
Her laughter spills into the morning, and the unease that filled me when I first woke up slowly disappears.
This is exactly what I needed. A reminder that life isn’t all loss and grief. That you can still find something to laugh and smile about, even on the worst days.
“I’m surprised you’re up so early,” I remark after another brief silence, the swing creaking beneath us as we continue to rock. “Especially on a day off.”
“I’m a creature of habit. Plus, I can sleep when I’m dead.” The instant the words leave her mouth, she winces. “Sorry. Probably not the best phrasing, all things considered.”
“It’s okay.”
She meets my eyes, hesitating. “Are you ready for today? Is that even the right thing to say?”
“I’m not looking forward to it. But I’ve kind of grown numb to it. My father-in-law plans something like this constantly. Services. Memorials. He even turned the kids’ birthdays into tributes to Cora.”
Her jaw drops. “He did what?”
“These days, his sole purpose in life is to mourn his daughter every chance he gets. That, and remind me she’s gone.” I roll my eyes. “As if I could ever forget. It’s more difficult on Presley than me.”
“Would you…like me to come with you today?” she asks. “Not as your nanny. Just…emotional support. Especially for Presley.”
I part my lips, about to tell her it’s not necessary, but stop myself.
Presley has certainly been off the past few days.
More irritable. Less social. Her therapist explained anniversary events can be traumatizing for survivors, which is why she suggested doing something fun to make new memories of today.
I doubt it would go over well with Robert.
But if Rowan were there, it might make it a little more bearable for Presley.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Want to be there for you.” She lifts her gaze to mine, then quickly adds, “and them. I want to be there for them.”
“I’d like that.”
My gaze drifts over her face. Her vivid blue eyes. The curve of her cheek. Her full lips.
Over the past several weeks, I’ve thought about those lips more times than I care to admit. And every time, I’ve berated myself for doing so. For allowing my stare to linger on them too long. To imagine how they’d taste and feel.
And not simply because she’s my kids’ much younger nanny. But because of Cora. There’s a part of me that still feels like I’m married to her and even thinking about another woman is cheating.
But every time I think that, I hear my mother’s words in the back of my mind, reminding me that Cora wouldn’t want me frozen in grief. She’d want me to live my life.
But with the nanny?
It’s insanity. I should date. Distract myself. Do something so I’ll stop thinking about Rowan nearly every second of the day.
But I get the feeling I could go out with every single woman in the area and I still won’t stop thinking about Rowan.
Jemmy’s babbling crackles through the monitor, forcing me back to the present.
“Duty calls.” I stand abruptly.
“What time do we need to leave?”
“Ten. Service then lunch.”
“I’ll be ready.” She pauses. “I don’t have to wear black, do I? I’m not sure I own anything dark.”
I chuckle. Of course she wouldn’t have anything that’s drab and colorless, not when she exudes life and vitality.
“Wear whatever you’d like.”
“Okay. See you at ten.”
“See you then.” I hold her gaze for one more beat, then disappear inside, officially on dad duty.