Chapter Thirty-Nine

Michaela

 

“What?” His surprised question barely louder than my declaration.

All that mattered was Jonny was gone.

The love of my life. My only love. The only man to know all of me.

He’d never…

He’d never know the child growing inside of me.

That little bean was the only thing that made me open my eyes every day. I would’ve happily lain in the ground with my husband otherwise.

What was I without him?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I mentally shook off the flashback to that day.

“Michaela?” Lincoln said.

Spill it and be done with it.

“It’s a C-section scar. I was pregnant when Jonny died. The baby hadn’t turned when I went into labor. They couldn’t coax him to move on his own, so the Caesarean was the back-up plan. It’s always an OB’s backup plan.”

“When you said had, I—”

“No. No, he’s alive.”

An exhale of relief. “Sweetheart, you could’ve told me you were a single mother.”

“I’m not,” I said through my throat closing up.

I felt him sit up behind me.

“You’re not making sense.”

Staring into the dark, I released a shuddering breath. “Jonny’s grandparents are raising him.”

“Why?”

“I was already a grieving widow. Then I woke in the hospital so empty. It was a long recovery. Even when I was stable again, I had no prospects. A few months of community college. So…”

“They took custody,” he said flatly.

“He’s nine.” I brushed the wetness out of one eye.

“It’s fucked, Michaela.”

I turned toward him. “What?”

“They were the nearest thing you had to family and they stole your baby and cast you aside when you were sick. That’s seriously fucked up.”

“Then I didn’t explain it right. The Aceros—”

“Are doing what’s best for them.”

“They’re doing their best for Jonathan.”

He visibly released the fight building. “You named him after his father.”

“They tried.” I shook my head. “But the parent fills out the birth certificate before checking out of the hospital.” And he stayed as long as I did. “It’s his middle name. Matthew Jonathan Acero.” Gift of God. Because there’d never be another for any of us.

“You once said you nearly died.”

The last reveal. “My uterus is gone. I can’t have another child.”

“Oh, sweetheart…”

A sob welled up and became a hiccup. “I told you I’m broken, Lincoln. The routine surgery wasn’t. They had no choice but to remove my uterus to stop the bleeding and save my life. When I woke, I felt something wasn’t right before they told me what had to be done. The words just made it final.” Rolling off the bed, I grabbed my robe off the hook on the back of the door and covered myself.

He crossed the room, but instead of more words, he hugged me.

I let his solidity hold me up for a while, breathing in his skin. It was like he gave off some magical, invisible essence that thrilled me or comforted me at will—a lovely drug, but only for recreational use. Too dangerous otherwise.

“None of it is your fault,” he murmured.

I couldn’t drag him into my dysfunction.

“Michaela, stop.”

“What?”

“Thinking.” He tilted my face up. “I don’t judge you for your past. None of it is your fault. It’s just tragedy, the universe being an asshole.”

I pulled away from his embrace. “So you understand why I won’t love again.”

“I understand why you’re terrified.”

I sighed. “Yes, but it’s more than fear. I know exactly the risk I’m in if I lose like that again. I can’t outlive another husband.” He stood before me with no shyness. “Can you put on pants?”

He arched a brow. “Pretty sure you’re acquainted with the goods by now.”

“Duh, but this—” I gestured at all of him. “—is distracting when we’re having a serious conversation.”

Rolling his eyes, he tugged the discarded box briefs up. “Better?”

“Thank you.” And he needed to be decent if this ended in me throwing him out of my room. Back to the topic at hand. “All I can give you is all I’ve done. Despite your offer of friends with benefits, I don’t think you can be happy with that limitation. You deserve it all from someone who can give it to you, Lincoln.”

“You keep saying that, but you haven’t kept as much distance as you could’ve, Michaela.” He squeezed my shoulders, then his hands trailed down to clasp mine. “Part of you has been reaching out for this connection since we bickered over who had the better dessert. I’m sure Moira is the best friend ever, but you can’t expect her to be there twenty-four-seven for the rest of your lives. Does she date?”

“She has a boyfriend,” I replied begrudgingly.

He stooped to catch my gaze. “What if they get serious?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but didn’t have a leg to stand on. Instead, I said, “I’ve never asked her to make me her number one priority.”

“Of course not.” His smile was gentle and sweet. “You’re not a selfish bitch, so I’m sure you’ve been a great roommate. I’m sure you two have lots of fantastic memories. But she’s twenty-eight as well?”

I nodded. “Same class.”

“Right, so it’s only natural…”

Moving away, I sat on the bed. “I know. Okay? She’s dated most of the past ten years and I know one of those guys will be the lucky man to catch her permanently. I’m always aware things might change.”

He sat next to me. “Then what will you do? The financial worry is no longer there. You don’t need both of your incomes to make rent anymore. Do you ever lean on other friends?”

“You and your damned questions.”

“I push because I believe it’d be a damn shame if Michaela Simon became a recluse.”

“So what, the answer is you?”

“Maybe.” He tilted his chin up, defiant. Confident. “A part of it, yeah. The people that survive loss? Have support systems.”

Arms crossed, I looked at him like he was a simpleton. “You’ve never been devastated, Lincoln. Don’t pop psychology me.”

“Losing my grandfather hurt, but you’re right. I haven’t lost to the depths of my soul. But I’ve seen it happen. I dated a girl in college a little while. It wasn’t going anywhere, but she was nice and sweet, so we remained friends. She really wanted to date this other guy and he finally noticed her, the shy one in the back of the class.” This story sounded ominous. “He was a jock, so not in my circle, but everybody hears about the players. So, he sweet-talked and charmed her until she’d do anything for him, then when he got what he wanted, he dropped her. In public. Humiliated her in the hall when she didn’t take the first hint.”

“Geeze.”

“She OD’d a week later. They found her in her car by the lake. Turned out, she’d had a drug problem in high school and her parents thought she beat it. It only took one moment to knock her out of the stability she’d fought to claim. No one knew where she got the drugs. Her roommate thought she was merely going through the sadness of a rough breakup.”

“That’s horrible, but—”

He grabbed my hand. “My point, sweetheart, is that my friend didn’t have anyone to spot the signs that week because she’d never shared that part of herself with anyone on campus. A support system in place at the moment that asshole broke her heart might’ve saved her life.”

“Maybe.” I shook my head. “Despair isn’t based on logic. Sane people don’t commit suicide, even if the loss of sanity is only in that moment. When you’re swallowed by that much darkness, it’s not easy to be talked back into the light.”

His eyes reshaped with fear. “You didn’t—”

“I haven’t attempted. No. But I thought about it a lot.”

“I’m sorry you had to face that.”

“My structures keep me sane. Moira lived through everything with me, so I can be myself without explaining it. She’s part of the stability, too. I’ve never met a more naturally positive, compassionate person.”

“Did he know?”

“About the baby?” I shook my head. “I was going to wait until I was sure I wouldn’t miscarry. I was so young. I barely got my head around it before he…” A sad laugh. “Knocked up on my honeymoon. We were the young tragic love cliché. When you read Romeo and Juliet in school, it seems so stupid and extreme, but I get it now.”

Lincoln scooted closer. “I still don’t understand how they could take the kid away from you.”

Revisiting all this made me tired. “We went home from the hospital with the Aceros. I couldn’t lift anything while my abdomen healed from surgery. Moira couldn’t take off work. She didn’t have seniority then. Mrs. Acero had to take care of me.”

Not enough women shared the recovery process of childbirth with other women. Whether you had a C-section or natural birth, the first days could be hell. Then add my emergency procedure on top of the normal struggles like learning to breast feed.

Jonny’s service had qualified me for some benefits, but the medical bills ate up a lot of the life insurance. The rest went into a fund for my son.

“It’s the least they could do after major surgery.”

I pulled my hand away from his grasp. “You’re seeing this through the Cliff Notes version. It’s more complicated than that. They’re good people.”

“Michaela, don’t excuse—”

“Jonny was raised by his grandparents because his mother was a mess. I think they saw my issues through the lens of the past and weren’t going to let their great-grandson suffer through my failings. It wasn’t a mean or cruel act. We all thought it was best at the time.”

A pause in words, then.

Only the sound of our breathing in the room, and my pounding pulse in my ears.

He stood and paced between the corner of the room and the bed.

“Do you see him?” he finally asked.

“This is why I didn’t give you the whole story when you asked questions before. You’re judging when you weren’t there!”

His restless feet stopped in front of me. “Or maybe I see clearly because I’m outside. Whatever their intentions were, they took advantage of you, Michaela. Did you have a lawyer inform you of your rights?”

“I’m a non-custodial parent. I didn’t give him up.”

“Good, because you’re an heiress now.”

We’d had arguments, but Lincoln was stony in his conviction here.

“This righteous anger is compelling, but we’re talking about a child’s life, not lost property. You want me to take him back? I’d be ripping him out of a loving home and stable routine out of selfishness.”

He pulled me in. “It isn’t all or nothing, sweetheart. What matters is whether you want that relationship. Everything else is just logistical details.”

The angle of his face and the limited light made his eyes black.

He looked truly dangerous.

“What do I know about raising a nine-year-old boy?”

Brushing my hair behind my ear, he replied, “You’re stronger than you think.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll agree Harry’s memorial day isn’t the time for this discussion.”

“Thank you.”

Then he smiled for the first time since asking that dreaded question. “Get ready for bed.”

I nodded and went into the adjoining bathroom.

When I returned from my routine, it was to see the covers thrown back and Lincoln asleep. He conked out waiting for me. Sighing, I crawled in next to him, then tossed and turned until I decided to use him as a pillow because he was on my side.

My traitorous body drifted right off.

I was so screwed.