Chapter 33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
FARRAH
I’m in my apartment feeling miserable and watching the game on my tiny laptop screen. How am I supposed to keep Bruce McBride off my mind when he’s literally blocking every shot and moving like the beautiful beast he is. The third period is almost over, and the Eagles are winning four to one.
It’s also not helping that I’m wearing his sweats again. I couldn’t stop myself. They’re so comfy and they still smell faintly of whatever shower soap he uses.
Tired of wallowing, I pick up my trash from the food I had delivered and throw it away. Connor and his new wife and baby deserve no more of my tears, no more of my emotional energy. He’s already taken years from me; I won’t dwell on him and his seemingly perfect life anymore.
I will also stop resenting the fact that some women grow babies while I grow cysts. Actually, that’s probably a lie… I’ll always be a little bitter about that.
Moving to my door, I slide on my fuzzy slippers and pad down the steps and into the big house. I turn on Remy’s oven—wishing it was Bruce’s La Cornue—and start whipping up a celebratory cake for tonight’s win. Maybe Bruce will come over for a slice…no. He can’t. We can’t.
They say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but whoever said that is a liar. Because the pain of being thrown away might never subside. But I could’ve lived happily forever as a single woman with cats.
Rose whines at my feet like she knows I’m thinking about cats. I pat her fluffy head and smile.
Tonight, I let my creativity take me away in the kitchen. This cake isn’t for an order, no one requested it. I can do whatever I want.
And where does my heart lead me? A yellow three-layer cake with ice blue frosting and silver sprinkles on top. The yellow of the cake is almost the exact shade of Bruce’s hair, and the frosting matches his eyes. And those silver sprinkles capture the light with a twinkle just like the stud in his ear.
I heave a sigh and cut myself a thick slice, then sit on the countertop and devour it like I haven’t eaten in days. Rose whines and wags her tail, so I drop a big bite of cake on the floor. Remy will never know since she licks it right up, not leaving a single crumb behind.
With a glance at the oven clock, I realize with a start it’s nearly midnight and everyone will be home soon from the game. It takes a while once you wait for Remy to get out of the dressing room and get through traffic.
I cover the cake and leave a note on top that says congrats on the win! Then head back to my apartment for some rest. Hopefully I’ll sleep better tonight, but probably not since I just inhaled a pound of sugar.
I wake up with a start the next morning. I don’t even know what time it is, but just that someone is knocking on my door, repeatedly.
If that’s one of my family members, they’re about to see just how grumpy I can get. I was finally sleeping good after not falling asleep until three in the morning. Those jerks.
Throwing off my covers, I stomp to the door and swing it open. “What do you want?” I seethe, my eyes still bleary from sleep.
“Ummm,” A very deep voice says from above me. “So, I take it you’re not a morning person?”
I wipe the sleep from my eyes and look up to see Bruce McBride. He probably didn’t get much more sleep than I did last night, and yet he looks as fresh as a bouquet of wildflowers. Speaking of wildflowers… he’s actually holding a bouquet of wildflowers.
I can’t explain why, but seeing him standing here, all soft and smiley for me…brings tears to my eyes. Maybe tears of relief because I’ve wanted to see him so badly but didn’t feel like I should. Or maybe the tears are because I know we’ve run our course, and I need to end this, but I don’t want to.
Bruce’s warm hand moves up to cradle my cheek and he uses his thumb to brush away tear that escaped. “Yeux bleus, don’t cry. I’m here.”
The poor, handsome idiot doesn’t realize that’s part of the problem. I sniff, crossing my arms over my chest since I’m not wearing a bra.
“What does that mean, anyway?” I finally ask. It doesn’t matter now if it’s something stupid that will piss me off. Our clock is ticking by the second. “It’s something dumb, isn’t it? It means stinky feet in French?”
He drops the flowers to the ground with a thump and brings his other hand up. My face is cradled in his large hands, and the feel of it is intensely comforting. I never want him to remove those hands.
“It means blue eyes. Because your eyes were the first thing I noticed about you.”
Okay, that’s really sweet. Too sweet. I want to be annoyed at him, so this is easier.
He smirks. “Okay, in all honestly, your eyes and your butt were both fighting for my attention. But calling you great butt in French isn’t very romantic.”
I snort an unbecoming laugh, unable to help myself.
“Can I come in?”
I bite my bottom lip, feeling unsure. We need to talk, but being in an enclosed space with him typically leads to a lot more than talking.
“You can come in, but just to talk.”
He arches one eyebrow. “Okay.” Bruce steps past me, and I close the door behind us.
I point to the sofa. “You, over there.”
He obeys.
I run to the bathroom, needing to make sure I don’t have drool all over my face or anything. I’m a drooly sleeper. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I nearly shriek when I see myself in the mirror. Dark circles under my eyes, folds from the blanket I was lying on imprinted in my face…and my hair. Oh, wow. It’s basically a nest.
I splash some cold water on my face and apply a dab of moisturizer, then brush my hair and secure it into a braid with an elastic. I’m about to leave the bathroom when I spot my deodorant on the bathroom counter. I swipe my pits a few times, then head back out for my dreaded conversation with Bruce.
His eyes do that soft, gooey thing they do when he looks at me. “I kind of liked the sleepy look.”
I sigh, wishing he’d stop being cute. Silently, I stand there in the middle of the room. I’m looking down at my feet and thinking that I don’t know what to say, or how to start this conversation. I don’t want to talk about any of this. Can’t I just go bake something?
Not realizing Bruce had left the couch and crossed the room, the nearness of his voice surprises me and my eyes snap up to meet his.
“Let me in, Farrah. Talk to me.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. He’s being so patient despite me not responding to him for days. He left me alone and gave me time, gave me space. He’s truly so different than Connor…maybe he wouldn’t end up breaking my heart. Maybe I’d be enough for him, even without babies. I shake the thought; I need to get that out of my head. That sounds too much like hope.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls,” I say, finally.
“Or texts,” Bruce adds with a raised eyebrow. His hands slide into the pockets of his dark jeans, and he rocks on his feet. “I’m a pretty good listener, you know.”
I smile but it feels sad. “I know. I haven’t felt ready to talk.”
His eyes search my face. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but his eyebrows scrunch in concern. Probably because of the dark circles under my eyes.
“The truth is,” I say, taking a deep breath. “My ex left me because we couldn’t get pregnant. He was the person who swore to love me forever, unconditionally. But there was a condition on it, apparently…my ability to bear children.” I pause, feeling the emotion well up inside of me and trying my hardest to tamp it down. With a shaky voice, I start again. “And that didn’t happen quickly enough for him, so, he kicked me to the curb, and now he’s marrying a younger, hotter woman who obviously has better ovaries, because she’s already pregnant.” My eyes burn and I can hardly see Bruce’s face through the tears I’m trying not to shed. “Everyone seems to be able to accomplish the one thing I can’t…getting pregnant. Amber, Mel, and someday Andie and Noel will have babies, too. Everyone will have a baby to hold. And I’ll have to watch them, and I’ll hate that there’s a piece of me that’s bitter about it. Because I’ll want so desperately to be happy for them, and I will be, but it will be tainted. It will be tainted with a desire to hold my own baby.”
Bruce wraps his arms around me as I release a sob. Tears are rapidly streaming down my face and soaking his shirt. But he keeps holding me and allowing me to cry. It feels good to say my horrible thoughts out loud, and it feels good to be in his arms. But nothing will fix this.
I might never be enough for this man, for any man. I’d rather end things now than find that out later.
Bruce slides his hand up and down along my back and makes quiet shhhh sounds. I relish in his embrace for a moment longer, before reluctantly pushing away from him. I sniff and wipe my face on the sleeve of the sweatshirt I’m wearing—his sweatshirt.
“Farrah, everything you’re feeling is understandable. Your feelings are valid. I think you might not know that, and it’s important that you do. Your feelings and your grief…it’s valid. And you can also have more than one feeling at a time. You can be happy for someone you love, and sad for yourself at the same time. Those emotions can coexist together.”
His words soothe me in a way nothing else ever has. I’ve never heard anyone put it like that before, but he’s right. I’m thrilled for West and Mel, and even love seeing her growing belly, but it’s also a reminder of what I couldn’t have. I’m happy and sad, together. One doesn’t negate the other.
“Do you—” Bruce starts to ask a question then stops abruptly.
“Do I what?”
“Do you wish you were still with Connor? Are you upset he’s getting married?”
I snort a laugh through my tears. “No. I wouldn’t take him back in a million years.” I shake my head. “I just hate that he gets to live my dream.”
The pesky tears are back, flooding my eyes once more. I allow them to stream down my face, releasing all the pent-up emotion after days of repressing it. “This has nothing to do with my ex, but I don’t think I can be with you, Bruce,” I say it gently, but his face still falls.
“You’ve been so sweet, and our time together has brought me so much joy.” I try to muster a smile through my tears, but it’s as unsteady as my emotions. “But you’re young. You’ll meet someone who can give you a family. You were meant to be a dad more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Bruce steps closer to me and brings his hands up to grasp my upper arms and holds me gently but firmly. “Farrah, I don’t want to build a life with you because of what you can give me someday. I don’t cherish you for your ability to have children or not. And I don’t love you based on any conditions.”
My eyes widen in shock at his confession.
“I love you because of who you are. I love your kindness and your loyalty. I love your Frozen obsession and how passionate you are about baking. I love that you support everyone around you even if you’re having a hard day. And I want to build a life together for just that…to be together. And if it’s just you and me, that’s okay. All I need is you , Farrah.”
I choke on a sob. “You say that now, Bruce. But you don’t know. You don’t know how you’ll feel in five years, or ten or twenty. What about when we’re old and grey and everyone has grandchildren but us?”
“If you’re by my side in the nursing home, it doesn’t matter.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “Connor used to tell me that we’d be together until we’d need to clean each other’s dentures.”
Bruce’s jaw ticks, and his shoulders straighten. “I’ll say this to you as many times as I need to, but I’m not Connor. Connor might be older than me, but he was just a boy. A real man would never let you go. A real man would never walk away from you.”
Bruce is saying all the right things, all the things that should console me and make me confident in us. And I believe he means what he’s saying, I really do. But that doesn’t change the fact that people change their minds. Every single day. And I can’t allow myself to fall harder for this man with the risk he’ll change his mind later.
Bruce’s hands fall from my arms. “What can I do to change your mind?”
I raise my chin and look into his fervent gaze for a long moment. “Nothing.”
His shoulders droop and gorgeous mouth turns downward. “Farrah,” he says my name like a plea. “I love you. I can’t just let you go.”
For the first time since I met him, Bruce McBride looks small, like he’s turning in on himself. And I hate that I’m the one causing this big, happy, confident man to crumble.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice so low I’m not certain he can hear me. “It’s better this way.”
His eyebrows knit together, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “There’s no world where a life without you is better.”
I feel one lonely tear stream down my face. Bruce brings his hand up, wipes the tear away gently, then slowly turns and walks toward the door. His hand rests on the door handle for what feels like a full minute, before he turns and gives me one last look.
He leaves and I crumple to the floor. I somehow feel worse now than I did when I found out about Connor’s baby. Everything feels bleak when I think of my life without Bruce’s smiles, or his teasing, or his hugs. When I compile a list of my happiest moment over the last year and a half, they’re all somehow attached to Bruce McBride.
This is for the best .