Chapter Forty-Nine
Mindy
"Babe, I'm running super-late," Betty's voice crackles through the phone, barely audible over the chorus of honking cars. "I'm stuck in traffic like you wouldn't believe."
I lower myself onto a nearby benchin the courtyard of St. Mary's Hospital and place my suitcase by my side. I've just been discharged and waiting for Betty to pick me up. She’s doing me a huge favor. She just left the office after a long day of work and it’s rush hour in New York City, with tens of thousands of commuters trying to make their way home.
Looks like it's going to be a long wait.
I shift uncomfortably on the bench, trying not to aggravate my healing wound. Looking around at the lush greenery and blooming flowers in the hospital courtyard, I try to distract myself from the ache in my body and in my heart.I know my body will heal, but not my soul. This is a wound I will carry with me till the day I die.
As I sit here, I see other patients taking a stroll in the hospital gardens with their loved ones. It's a beautiful day - sunny and full of life. The birds are chirping and the flowers are blooming.Yet here I am, feeling like the world has stopped after losing my baby. Except it hasn't. Life just goes on and we all have to drag with us the scars of yesterday.
Adapt and survive, Mindy.
It’s the only thing you can do.
It’s what got you this far.
"Miss Williams, everything seems to be going well," the doctor reassured me during his final visit last night. "Your body will need a few weeks to fully heal, but you’ll be alright. And needless to say, you’ll have to be very careful with sex for a while."
“With Maron gone, that shouldn’t be a problem,” I thought bitterly to myself.
The doctor paused, looking up from the folder in his hands. "Look, I understand the mental impact of a miscarriage. Do you have emotional support from your family?"
"Yes," I lied, not wanting to delve into the complexity of my family situation or my relationship with the baby’s dad.
I place a hand on my stomach, feeling the hollow ache where my baby once grew. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to fully feel the overwhelming sense of loneliness that surrounds me.
Mom is gone.
Maron is probably gone.
Alexis… Let’s not even go into that.
And now, my baby’s gone.
"Your baby was a traveler," A voice in my head chimes in. It's Emily's voice . "She used your belly as a stopover, Mindy. She decided to move on because this world would have been too cruel for her."
For a brief moment, I swear I feel her hand on mine and her scent in my nose. "I miss you so much, Em," I say out loud. "I will never forgive myself for-"
"Ssshh," she says. "It's not your fault, Mindy. Everything is going to be fine. I'm waiting for you on the other side."
My tears suddenly begin to spill over and I allow myself to cry and cry, letting them flow freely, releasing all the pent-up emotion. I allow myself to wallow in my misery, hoping I’ll feel better afterwards. Nobody gives a shit about me except Betty. Even now, I sit here alone and she’s the only one who bothered to offer me a pickup. I continue to cry like a baby until the ping of my phone pulls me out of my self-imposed agony. It’s a message from Betty.
“This might take more than an hour. I’m stuck in the worst traffic jam ever.”
Dammit! Another hour alone on this bench, with nothing but my treacherous thoughts. I've already been sitting here for twenty minutes. If I sit here any longer without doing anything productive, I’m only going to feel more depressed. Maybe I should take a walk or get breakfast at the cafe. I quickly send Betty a text.
“Where exactly are you?”
The response comes almost immediately.
“Here.”
Her text includes a photo of a seemingly endless line of cars, trucks, and minivans. Judging by the surroundings, she's still near the Global Media building. At this rate, she won’t make it here until evening.
Right.
I awkwardly stand up, carefully stretching my muscles without affecting my wound. But my legs and my back feel tired and achy, and suddenly the idea of taking a walk or going to a noisy café feels like an ordeal. So, I let out a sigh and flop back onto the bench. Desperate to do something with my time, I rummage through my bag to find a distraction for myself. And to my delight, I find my Kindle. I can’t even remember the last time I used this thing.
I press the power button and the screen comes to life. Once the device has booted up, I start scrolling through my library till I settle on a cheesy rom-com. It’s exactly the distraction I need right now.
Chapter One: Cassandra.
I jolted awake to the sound of my alarm blaring like it had a personal vendetta against me. Groggy and half-asleep, I blindly smacked the snooze button, praying for just five more minutes of blissful sleep. The second time the alarm went off, I considered the pros and cons of becoming a professional hermit. By the third ring, I knew I had to face the inevitable: another day of chaos, caffeine, and, paperwork.
But that’s not even the worst of it, because I also had to face my boss. Matthew Collins. A tall, dark, handsome walking dream, a specimen who is not a question of personal taste - I can’t name a single woman who wouldn’t get turned on by his looks. And that tells you all you need to know about Matthew’s appearance.
But sadly, there's another side to him that’s far less fine and dandy: his personality. Because the moment Matthew Collins opens his mouth, you realize he’s more than just a boss - he’s the absolute worst bosshole to ever walk the surface of this planet. Words like 'jerk' or 'arrogant a-hole' don’t even begin to describe him. And guess what? The very first task on my to-do list this morning is an hour-long meeting with Mr. Collins…
I start going over the pages until it sucks me in completely, making me temporarily forget the troubles of my life. But after about fifteen minutes of reading, a scent fills my nostrils. It’s the familiar combination of sandalwood and cedar, a heady mix of and sexuality and sin.
"Mindy."
I glance up from my Kindle in surprise. What is he doing here? It’s been days since he visited me in hospital and last time I checked, it really looked like he’s through with me. But now, here he is, rocking his casual look in a white t-shirt, jeans, black leather jacket, and just the right amount of scruff on his face. I hate the fact that every time I see him, he looks even hotter than before. What I hate even more is the fact that even now, he’s turning me on.
Maron takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I tense at his close proximity. I don’t know what brought him here, but I can’t help the flicker of joy in my heart knowing he’s with me.
"I thought you needed space," I say, trying to wrap my head around his unexpected appearance.
Maron's jaw tightens. "I did. I do. But... I couldn't let you face this alone."
His admission, small as it is, makes my heart leap. We sit in silence for a moment, letting the weight of our shared loss hang between us.
"Come. Let’s go home," he says finally. As always, his tone leaves zero room for argument.
"I'm waiting for Betty. She's supposed to take me to hers."
"Cancel her. She will understand."
I hesitate. I don’t want to simply cancel on Betty, especially after all she went through for me. She’s been waiting in traffic for God knows how long, just to get to me.
"I know she’s a good friend to you, lisichka . Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to express my gratitude to her at the office. But right now, she’ll have to understand that you’re coming with me."
I heave a long sigh. Typical Maron. I know he’s not going to take no for an answer. I also know that there is a lot we need to talk about. As for Betty, at least she can get the hell out of rush hour traffic and head home after a long day at the office. So, I pick up my phone and shoot her a short text.
“Bets, there’s been a change of plans. Please don’t come. I'll explain it later.”
"Let's go," Maron says, picking up my suitcase.
Five minutes later, we’re riding in his car in thick silence. He keeps his eyes on the road ahead, his expression stoic as always. I consider starting a conversation, but my mind can only come up with trivial questions like "Why did you come to pick me up?" or "Why are we going to your place?"
I end up staying quiet until we arrive at Maron's mansion. He parks the car in the garage and turns off the engine, but neither of us moves. We continue to sit there in the stillness, the only sound being the ticking of the cooling motor.
Eventually, I decide to break the silence. "Thank you for coming for me, Maron."
He looks at me with a flicker of something in his eyes - concern perhaps, or some sort of deeper emotion I can't name. "It’s fine."
Honestly, I don’t know why I’m expecting more than an “it’s fine.” It would be nice to hear something like, “I missed you so much, Mindy,” or even a wild, “I love you!” I know it’s totally unlike him to say things like those under the current circumstances, but that doesn’t stop me from craving love and emotion from the man I care so deeply about… Maybe I’m still hormonal.
"Let's go upstairs," he eventually says.
We get out of the car, and I follow him into the house, my heart pounding in my chest. I really don't know what to expect after all that’s happened. Are we still together? Do I still live with him or will I be moving back in with Betty?
But as we climb the stairs toward his bedroom, I can't help but feel a sense of anticipation, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he cares for me more than he's letting on.