Chapter 11
Grace
I slam my stupid self-help book shut and toss it across the bed then burrow deeper under my covers. Today, the metaphorical jellyfish stung and I didn’t have the inner strength to pee on my own leg. (By the way, that is a really terrible metaphor and the author of that book should be ashamed of herself!)
What I’m trying to say is, grief reared its ugly head as I removed all of my husband’s belongings from the bedroom closet this morning and instead of standing strong, I broke down into tears. I’m not strong enough for this. I can’t even lie. The only thought I could focus on all day is that my husband is gone for good and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I try to remind myself of the reason I filed for divorce to begin with. He’s a workaholic. He’s too busy to be here, he’s too busy to see me. He won’t even try to understand me.
I deserve better than that and so does Sebastian. Knowing this truth doesn’t make it any easier, though. It still hurts like hell. I’m sobbing quietly into my pillow when I hear the doorbell in the distance.
Rolling out of bed, I blot my eyes and rake my fingers through my messy hair. “I’m coming, I’m coming…” I mutter. I grab my robe and trudge down the stairs as my impatient visitor hits the bell again.
When I swing the door open, Daniel is standing there with a sobbing Sebastian on his hip. They both look desperate and disheveled.
“What’s going on?” I ask, folding my robe closed against the cold air that billows into the house.
Daniel thrusts the baby my way. “I don’t know. Can’t get him to settle down. I think he has a bit of a fever and he won’t stop pulling on his ears. He keeps pacing from corner to corner, calling for his mama.”
My shoulders drop and my heart splits down the middle when I hear that. Look what we’re doing. To our child. We’re breaking him. I’m breaking him. My innocent little baby.
“Come here, sweetheart,” I coo as I cradle him against my chest.
Under his jacket, he’s wearing his favorite rocket ship pajamas and his little cheeks are sticky from his tears. He gnaws on his knuckles, trying to shove his fist into his mouth.
“He’s teething,” I say to his father. That’s what I was trying to explain to him yesterday when he cut me off, insisting that he knows how to take care of his son.
Sebastian wraps his arms so tight around me, burying his head in my shoulder. His whimpering finally subsides. The look on Daniel’s face – a look of pure and utter dejection – burns like acid on my heart. I just want to pull him against me and hold him, too.
He sets the diaper bag down at the foot of the stairs and turns back toward the door with his head hanging. “I’m gonna get going.” But as he sets his hand on the doorknob, Sebastian’s head shoots in that direction and his high-pitched screams begin again. The baby reaches out in the direction of the door. He’s reaching for his dad.
Daniel and I stand there, both helplessly staring at our son. And when our eyes finally shift and connect with each other, it’s the most painful thing in the world. My insides ache, my knees feel weak.
I want my husband. I need him.
And for the first time in weeks, it isn’t pure vitriol I see in his eyes when he looks at me. It’s something sad and vulnerable.
He reaches out and rubs his child’s head, whispering sweetly to him, telling him that daddy loves him but that he has to go.
I can’t watch this.
“Do you…” I stammer. “Do you want to help me put him to bed?”
Daniel’s weak stare settles on mine. He scrubs his hand down the side of his face. “I’d like that.”
“Okay.” My gaze falls to his lips and for just a second, I remember what it’s like to kiss him. The way his mouth moving over mine always felt like a tender assault on all my senses, making me desperate and needy for more.
He’s watching me too and heat rises into my chest. I turn my eyes away.
Daniel shrugs out of his jacket then follows me upstairs and into the nursery. He sits in the rocking chair as I hover over the crib with Sebastian in my arms. Swaying the baby back and forth, I sing softly to him.
Within minutes, the boy is fast asleep, nestled snuggly against my chest. I put a kiss on his forehead and lay him gently in his crib. I cover him with his warm quilt and turn toward Daniel. I’m surprised to find him sleeping, too.
Slouching in the rocking chair, his chin is tucked against his chest and his lips are slightly parted. I take a long moment to just stare at him. He’s wearing a simple black t-shirt and dark jeans. It’s rare that I see him without a suit on these days. His thick, dark hair is slightly longer at the top now. It’s messy and kind of sexy. His features look tired but he’s still so handsome. As handsome as the man I fell in love with back in law school.
God, I love him so much.
My chest aches as I remind myself that sometimes, love just isn’t enough. I panic on the inside wondering if I'll eventually get over him, worrying that I'm not strong enough to ever stop loving him. Choking back my sobs, I grab another quilt from Sebastian’s drawer and drape it over my husband. I tiptoe back to my bed.
It feels oddly comforting to have him here under this roof tonight. Even if we aren’t sharing the same bed. I think that just having him within these four walls means we’ll all sleep better tonight.