Chassidy

Present Day

I shouldn’t be here.

This isn’t helping. It’s not going to. It didn’t help the first time, and it’s not going to help now… but I need something to help me. I feel so lost, so empty. I need to feel something other than this despair that’s been wrapped around me for so long. I’m afraid to let it go. If I let one emotion out, the rest will unravel.

I look around at the women here, all different races and ages, and instead of feeling comforted, a form of comradery, I feel misery creeping around the room. I bite the Styrofoam cup in my hand so hard, a piece tears off in my mouth. My heart is beating faster than normal and my throat is dry even though I’ve downed an entire cup of punch.

“First time?”

I glance at the owner of the light voice. It’s a girl of course. She looks young, really young, maybe sixteen. She can’t be here for this group. Maybe I’m in the wrong room.

“I’m Mallory,” she says, stretching out her hand.

I take it reluctantly, trying to pull off a warm smile that feels cold on my lips.

“Nervous? I still get nervous sometimes.” She laughs but it’s mirthless, and when her amber eyes meet mine, I know that she’s here for the same reason I am. I recognize her feelings—loss, pain, and sorrow. My heart breaks for her instantly, for everyone here, but their pain and mine intermingling is suffocating, not liberating as it once was.

“Here.” She hands me another cup filled with lemonade, and I down it quickly. “What’s your name?”

“Chassidy. I’m sorry…” My thoughts are floating to a different time, a different place.

“It’s okay. They’re running behind.” She sighs, breaking a piece off a cookie someone brought and popping it into her mouth.

More people are trickling into the brightly painted room with over thirty chairs arranged in a circle. The fluorescent lights feel hot on my skin, but I know it’s paranoia. I haven’t gone crazy just yet. I watch as some greet each other with half smiles and hugs. No one I recognize is here from the last time. Some people are loners like me. They seem confused and in a daze, observing, probably thinking the same thing I am.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” she asks.

I nod, watching her pull out a hair tie from her Tory Burch backpack and gathering her long dark hair into a bun.

“Looks like we’re the youngest people here.” Her voice gives away a hint of her nerves.

I nod, rubbing my fingers across the back of my neck. Things like this aren’t supposed to happen when you’re young. Your body is supposed to be optimal, ready-made for it—so what happened to ours? I want to ask her this, but my tone won’t be right, it won’t come out as a joke. It would come out wrong, like most things I’ve been saying lately.

“How old are you?” I ask, my eyes sweeping across her.

“Nineteen,” she says with a half smile. “How about you?”

“Twenty-six.” I try to relax, but the cool liquid or conversation isn’t helping at all. I feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I wipe them but don’t feel anything. “It’s not my first time here,” I croak, my voice sounding older and hollower.

“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before,” she says with a quizzical look, then she smiles brightly. “I would have noticed your hair. You have great hair.”

I smile, touching it, then I remember putting my fingers through Logan’s tiny blond curls and my stomach clenches.

“I come every week. Well, at least for the past four months.”

“It was a year ago,” I squeak.

She looks confused, probably wondering why I’m back after a year.

“I-it happened again.” When I utter the words, they come out strangled and my throat begins to close in on itself. My vision becomes blurry with fresh tears.

“Okay, everyone, we’re about to get started.”

I recognize her voice. That’s Jane, the group leader from the last time I came. I think about the progress I made and how now I’m back to square one.

“Are you okay to join the group?” Mallory asks me, her voice full of sympathy.

But it doesn’t make me feel better. This doesn’t make me feel better. I’m weighed down by the past, depressed by the future, sucking up all the despair in the room and infecting it with my own. “I’m sorry, I-I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have come.”

Before she can respond, I shoot to the door and hurry out. She seems to be functioning okay, but I’m not and I don’t want to bring anyone down into my hole of misery. When I reach my car, I take in as much air as my lungs will allow. I can’t help but think about how crazy I looked to them, to Mallory. But maybe they understand. If anyone could understand, it’d be them.

I rest my head on the steering wheel. I’ve sat in front of this building for three weeks, getting up the courage to go in, and when I did, I ran out like a lunatic.

* * *

“Life coach pfft.” Nicole rolls her eyes before she sips her second tequila and lemonade. If she could be a coach for anything, it’s knocking back booze in the classiest way. “What the hell does one do with a life coach? Why does a fully grown person need someone to be their cheerleader? Adulting is hard. Get over it!”

Kelsey, the most conservative of the three of us, gives her a warning look, but Nicole ignores it completely, as she’s done since our high school years.

“I don’t understand what you need to see a life coach for. You’re doing fine. Your closet is dripping with labels, you’re gorgeous, and you’re skinny. You’re doing just fine to me and every other person in the world,” Nicole continues dismissively.

I can’t help but feel guilty that an argument’s about to start over my fake life coach session. I told them I was seeing a life coach so I wouldn’t have to tell them that I went to a support group and failed epically. They’re my best friends. I should be able to talk to them about this—I know they’d want me to, especially Kelsey—but I’m so tired of being the one everyone feels sorry for. I’m sick of their pitying glances, trying to make sure they don’t say the wrong thing and make me uncomfortable. We’ve just started to move beyond that, and I don’t want it to start again. Besides, emotional stuff makes Nic uncomfortable, and the last thing I want is for her to feel uncomfortable while alcohol is around. She’ll drink away a car payment.

“I think it’s a great idea. There’s nothing wrong with a little help. Maybe I’ll schedule a session with him.” Kelsey’s tone is full of encouragement as she picks up her glass of lemonade, which Nicole sneers at. Nicole teased her when she ordered, regardless of the fact that for as long as we've known Kelsey she's hardly ever had anything more than a glass of wine at dinner.

“Oh please, what would you need help with in your life?” Nic asks almost accusingly.

Kelsey blushes, but her hazel eyes narrow on Nic’s emerald-green ones. Even though we’ve known each other since our freshman year of high school, Nicole still says things that can go from annoying to downright offensive, especially if you don’t know her. That’s why we stopped trying to introduce new people into the group. She’s a special cupcake that isn’t for everyone, but a flavor we’ve just never lost our taste for. When we got partnered together for an English project freshman year, I thought they were going to rip each other’s heads off, but we survived and forged a lifelong bond.

“Are you saying that staying home with my children is mindless and not nearly as difficult as getting to fly across the country and throw parties?” Kelsey asks tightly.

Nic rolls her eyes and throws her hands up in defense. “I’m saying that you have two gorgeous children you get to spend all the time you want with, in a gorgeous house, married to a gorgeous man. You would be wasting your money, just like Chassidy is wasting hers.”

“You’re being condescending!” Kelsey fumes, and suddenly it’s like we’re back at the burger joint we used to frequent in high school.

“Are you serious?” Nic asks indignantly.

I’m used to their debates. They look as different as their world views. Kelsey has skin the color of toffee and thick curly brown hair. She’s slender and conservative but fiercely opinionated. Nic’s a liberal through and through. She blames her brashness on being Irish and claims she’s meant to be hot-tempered since her hair’s the color of fire. This, at least, is a tamer discussion. When it’s election season, I can’t be in the same room with both of them at the same time.

“I’m complimenting you guys. We’re all doing well. You married one of the best pediatricians in the country, Chas is living her dream as a writer married to the love of her life, and I get to rotate between the country’s most eligible bachelors and get paid for it,” she says with a wink.

Kelsey lets out a condescending chuckle.

“I mean I get paid for doing their events not doing them!”

Several people at nearby tables look over, and Nic glows at the attention. Kelsey shakes her head in disdain, and I cover up a laugh. It feels good to laugh.

“I just think that we’re all doing pretty well, well enough not to need an adult babysitter, it’s just such a waste of money,” Nicole proclaims loudly.

Kelsey shifts her body toward me to give Nic the cold shoulder.

“What does Bryce think?” Nicole asks, throwing a haughty look in Kelsey’s direction.

I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Bryce is happy as long as I’m happy.” I try to sound cheerful, but the truth of the statement slaps me in the face. I’m not happy, so Bryce isn’t either, even if he doesn’t know why.

“Is he still out of town?” Nicole asks.

I grab my Long Island iced tea and take long sips, feeling uncomfortable with their gazes on me. Can they see behind the mask I’m wearing? Are there cracks?

“Yup, he’ll be back tomorrow,” I say with as much cheer as I can muster.

“You must be ecstatic,” Kelsey says.

I smile, but it’s tight. “Yeah, it’s been a week.” I try to hide any disdain in my voice, and I glance at both of them to make sure I’ve succeeded.

A look of concern flashes across Kelsey’s expression, but it’s gone quickly as it came.

I remember when I didn’t have to hide my feelings from my best friends, when I could be completely honest, when my life seemed so perfect. Those were the days when I would count down the minutes to when Bryce came home, when him being around made me believe everything would be okay…

“I don’t know how you do it, being at the house all by yourself while he’s jet-setting across the country,” Nicole says airily.

“So how is the new book coming along?” Kelsey asks, effectively changing the subject.

“It’s coming…” I sigh.

“Now we’re talking! That’s the type of book I’ll read,” Nicole says, her eyes lighting up.

“Of course you would,” Kelsey says condescendingly.

Nic blows her a kiss, and just like that, all is well with them… for now.

I grin. “I didn’t mean literally.”

“How hard could it be? Girl meets boy with emotional issues and dark secrets and her love cures him. Bam, you’re done!” Nicole claps.

“I’m glad you think it’s so easy,” I tease.

Kelsey winks at me.

“I’ve just been sort of lacking inspiration, I guess,” I say while playing with the last piece of asparagus on my plate.

“You’re married to one of the most beautiful specimens on the planet. How can you lack inspiration? Are you a lesbian?” she asks loudly.

That makes me laugh. It’s true though. Bryce is a beautiful creature, even more handsome than he was when we met five years ago. Our attraction to each other isn’t the problem though.

“My lack of inspiration isn’t his fault. It’s me. Obviously,” I say.

“Ugh, this alcohol runs through me quicker than money out my bank at Nordstrom’s.” Nicole squeals, standing. We watch her scurry to the bathroom, her limited addition Celine bag swinging behind her.

“Chas,” Kelsey asks, her voice only above a whisper, and my stomach turns over. She’s seen through the crack. Her big hazel eyes are like a puppy’s. They see into your soul. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I lie, plastering on a fake smile.

She frowns at me. “Are you sure?”

I know she won’t let this go. This is the first time I’ve seen her since it happened, and her radar has always been especially effective at reading people. It’s what makes her a great mother. The nurturing gene is intertwined around each cell in her body and makes it extremely difficult to hide when something’s wrong. She was the only person I told about wanting to live with my dad instead of my mom, and I told her that only a few weeks after I met her at fourteen.

My eyes tear up, and she reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Hon, what’s going on?”

“Things are just not right.” I bite my bottom lip, then finish off my Long Island.

“Is it the writing…?”

I bite my lip, smile, and shake my head. Aside from the girl I met earlier, I haven’t told anyone. Technically I was at the meeting to say it out loud, to admit that it had happened again… My eyes fall on my wedding band, a symbol of love that’s supposed to be forever, unbreakable.

I take my hand from Kelsey and twist the band around my finger. “I was pregnant again.”

Her eyes widen as shock colors her face. “What?” Her expression fades from shock to sadness. “Chassidy, oh my God!”

She covers her mouth with her hands and tears up, so I tear up. She starts to rise out of her seat, but my eyes beg her not to. I don’t want to make a scene. I hate that I’ve ruined our lunch

She nods and instead scoots closer to me, holding my hands. “How many weeks were you?”

Her voice is full of sympathy and understanding that make me feel even more emotional, but I won’t allow myself to start really crying. Nicole will be back soon, and we’re celebrating her landing a big account at work. The last thing I want is to make such a great occasion a solemn one.

“Ten,” I say quietly.

She leans in and hugs me tightly. I hug her back but pull away quickly to make sure Nicole doesn’t see.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her voice is warm but wobbly.

I flash back to the day she came and saw me after I lost Logan, and I grab Nicole’s drink and down it. Kelsey looks at me sympathetically, worry littering her pretty face. I flash her a pageant girl smile with tears in my eyes.

“I’m going to be okay,” I assure her as confidently as I can.

She smiles, but it’s weak.

“Right?” I nudge her, trying to be okay even though my insides feel as if they’re being stretched in several directions.

“Of course you are,” she says, trying to shake off her own emotions. “Is Bryce okay?”

“I haven’t told him. I’m not going to.”

Her eyes widen. Of course I know she won’t agree with me not telling Bryce. Kelsey won’t pee without telling David. Their marriage is almost ridiculously perfect, and I hate myself for being jealous. I miss when people used to be jealous of Bryce and me.

“I can’t tell him. I can’t have him look at me how you are.” I take a deep breath. “We were supposed to be over this after Logan.” My voice breaks, and I grab a napkin and dab my eyes.

“You have to tell him. You can’t hide something like this from him. It’ll drive you mad. Bryce loves you. He can help you,” she says, but I’ve already made up my mind.

“He can’t help me. I’m obviously just broken,” I say quietly.

She looks crestfallen, but what can she say? She’s not broken. She has two beautiful children.

“What’s happened to you happens to so many women who go on to have beautiful, healthy children, and even if you aren’t able to, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you,” she says indignantly. “I don’t know what you’re going through, so I can’t say that I know how you feel.” For a moment, she looks guilty and I hate myself for making her feel that way. “But I do know that you’re a great person and Bryce loves you to death. Don’t let this get you down. You cannot shut him out. Talk to him about it.”

I nod, but I know I won’t.

“I’m serious,” she says.

“What if we’re not meant to be?” My voice sounds cold, and she looks shocked.

“What are you talking about?”

“What if we’re just not meant to be? He’s a great man. He’s so loving and kind, and he deserves a child… his child. I can’t give him that.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Kelsey lets out a long breath. “Don’t do this. Don’t blame yourself. Don’t make this more than what it is. If he had to choose, and you don’t know if he does, but if he had to choose, he’d choose you. You know that.”

“But he shouldn’t have to,” I say, desperately trying to get her to understand.

She only glares at me stubbornly. “How much does Bryce like flying?”

A small smile finds its way to my face. Flying is one of his favorite things in the world, and the day he received his pilot’s license was one of the happiest days of his life.

“I bet he’d give it up for you,” she says pointedly, and I frown.

“And how selfish would that be of me?” I try to ignore the disheartened look on her face.

Silence passes between us before she folds her hands and peers up at me through her thick dark lashes. “You may not like what I’m going to say.”

I suspect I know what’s coming, so I try to prepare myself.

“You should pray about this,” she says.

I cross my arms and clench my jaw, trying to keep myself from telling her what I think of that suggestion. I’m grateful when I see Nicole bounding back to our table with an extra pep in her step. The conversation is quickly changed, and I’m grateful.

But I can’t shake her words. I should pray? That’s so like Kelsey, believing prayers are magical letters and there’s a big genie in the sky. If there is one, obviously the prayers I said, though there weren’t many, were routed to someone else.

Kelsey can be so empathetic, which makes me wonder how she can be so oblivious to how much it stings when she brings up religion. I know she means well. All she’s ever known is her faith, and if I didn’t think she meant well, I would have told her where she could go shove her prayers. And why shouldn’t she have faith? She came from a normal close-to-perfect two-parent home in the cushy suburbs with a cute little cocker spaniel. If there is a God, he’s been pretty good to her.

My parents were never married and were barely friends, more like strangers who liked each other a whole lot during a drunken tryst that had unexpected lifelong consequences. Even though they were awesome separately, the few times they had to share spaces—like birthdays, holidays when we tried to blend our families—were terrible. My mother runs cool, is always serious, can be admittedly condescending, and clashed against my dad’s free-thinking, optimistic, sort of goofballish personality. I always wondered how many drinks had to be consumed to get them in bed together.

We had a nuclear family for all of four years before they called it quits and my dad moved to California. My mom said it fit him but hoped he didn’t give himself a concussion with his head being so high in the sky. By the time I was six, right as I started to forget what he looked like, he came back, saying he had started a successful landscaping business and married my stepmother, Annette. That’s when the real fights started. He filed for custody and was awarded joint custody since I had started school and my mom was taking care of me just fine. I stayed with her during the year, and he got me for the summers and every other holiday.

I can’t say it was a terrible childhood, except whenever I was with my dad, I felt guilty about leaving my mom behind in cold Chicago. My dad had his new wife and new house, which was five times the size of ours in Illinois, right near the ocean. I always promised myself that I’d only have a child with someone I’d love forever so my child never had to be in a situation like I was, having to choose between two people, two foundations that were drastically different…

I push those thoughts out of my head and finish lunch with the girls, ignoring Kelsey’s concerned glances. I make sure to down two more Long Islands so she won’t press me on the car ride back home. Nicole is so excited about me being her drinking partner that she orders us shots, and the rest of the lunch is sort of a blur.

I wave to Kelsey and Nicole as I make it to my front door. Nicole’s sort of slumped over with a big smile from her drinks. Kelsey is sober as a nun, and she calls out that she’s going to call me later. Do nuns drink? I’ll have to research that later…

I walk up to my building, which Bryce and I have called home for three years. It’s one of the older luxury buildings in the area. They’ve been putting up so many new ones, but the price we pay for almost fourteen hundred square feet is unbeatable. Our plan was to buy a house in the suburbs when we started our family.

That thought makes me sort of nauseated. I head to the elevator but decide to take the stairs instead. I haven’t been to the gym in weeks though, so by the third flight, I regret my decision. My mouth is dry, and my thighs are stinging.

“This was a dumb idea,” I mutter and plant my butt on a stair, making up my mind to head to the elevator as soon as I catch my breath.

“You’re not giving up that easily, are you?”

The voice makes the hairs on my neck stand up. It’s smooth and warm, like hot chocolate going down on a cold day. I can’t see his face because a box—two to be exact—hides it, but I can tell from his toned abs peeking through his shirt and his arms, which have muscle swirling around them, that even if the face is a two, this man could be a ten. I feel my cheeks flush from the thought.

“Um, do you need a hand?” I ask, finding my voice doesn’t sound as wavy as I thought it would.

“That would make my day actually,” he says, shifting the boxes in his grip.

I stand and wipe my palms on my legs, making my way over to him.

“They’re not heavy. This one’s just blocking my vision,” he explains, sort of squatting so I don’t have much of an issue reaching the top box.

I’m used to standing on tiptoe to get things done though. Life as a short girl has made me resourceful. Still, his gesture makes it easier for me to grab the box.

“You’re a godsend,” he tells me with a chuckle.

I start to tell him that maybe it was divine intervention since I’m one of the laziest people ever, or maybe it was a nudge from down under since I don’t know what the hell I was thinking taking the stairs, but I’m greeted by a spectacular pair of blue eyes hidden behind long dark lashes. They’re magnetic, perfect, as is everything else on his face. A perfect nose sits above two plump lips curved into a smile with the most adorable dimples I’ve ever seen. He looks young but has the body of a man. I grip the box to my chest, almost feeling lightheaded. No more drinking with Nic.

“I’m Carter,” he says, with a smile that wraps around my heart and squeezes.

It’s the sort of feeling I got in high school when the boy I had a crush on smiled my way. I feel the same grin on my face from then and scold myself. Goofy drunk lonely girl.

“Chassidy,” I tell him, my voice lopsided and high. I wonder what brand of toothpaste has the wattage to make his smile so blindingly white. I follow him, telling myself not to stare at his butt. “So which floor are we heading to, Carter?”

“Only three more levels,” he says, sounding nowhere near as out of breath as I am. I definitely need to visit the gym again soon.

“You’re on seven?” I ask, surprised.

“That’s the one.”

Geez, he looks almost as good from behind. I roll my eyes at myself at how childish I’m acting, but it’s a good distraction. I climb the steps that seemed impossible earlier, but now they go fairly quickly. When we reach the seventh level, he shifts the box into one hand, pulls the door open, and waits for me to go past him.

“Thank you,” I say as I step through and he follows.

“We’re making a left. 704,” he says.

“You’re kidding,” I say with a laugh.

“Well, I was tempted to say I was on twenty, but I thought that’d be rude,” he jokes as we reach his door.

“That would have been really mean,” I retort, watching him pull the keys out of his back pocket.

“I really appreciate you saving me,” he says, opening the door.

I shrug. “You saved me. I’d probably still be on the steps if you hadn’t come along.”

When he walks through the door to his apartment, I peek in, standing at the threshold with his box in my hands still.

“You can set that on the counter,” he says, holding the door open with his foot.

I press my lips together and glance behind me.

“Or I can just grab it from you,” he says as he sets his box down.

“Oh no, it’s fine, sorry, brain freeze.” I giggle like an idiot before making my way in, ignoring the queasy feeling I get when I do.

“I promise I’m not a serial killer,” he says.

“Good to know,” I laugh.

I set the box on the island and quickly scan the apartment. It’s eerily identical to mine, down to the large island I fell in love with three years ago. It has the same dark wood floors and high ceilings I fell in love with, the same shiny stainless steel appliances. It’s empty aside from the boxes scattered about, but the feel is different here. There’s no clutter, and the light shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows makes it feel much bigger.

“You want a water?” he asks.

He’s even more stunning in natural light. The blue eyes that I thought were gorgeous before are more magnificent when the sun graces him, his smile is even more electric, and I find myself holding my breath to make sure I’m awake and not dreaming.

“I would, thank you,” I say, gripping the strap of my purse.

I’m nervous. I haven’t been nervous around a man in a long time. He doesn’t seem to be though, striding with ease to the fridge. I peek around him and see water bottles, Gatorades, and a box of takeout food. He walks across the apartment and tosses the water bottle to me.

“You don’t need one?” I ask. I’m sure his box was heavier than mine, and at one point, he was carrying both.

“Nah, I’m good.” With an easy smile, he hops on the island, his eyes landing on the bottle in my hand.

Right, he’s waiting on me to drink. I smile tightly, trying to loosen up. I take a small swig, then a longer one, resisting the urge to gulp it all down.

“What floor do you live on?” he asks once I’m done.

“It’s actually a coincidence… I’m right next door.” Unable to resist, I gulp down the water.

“No such thing as coincidences.” His tone is serious, but his smile… oh gosh, his smile is contagious and makes me, a twenty-six-year-old woman, smile like an idiot at a stranger.

Well he’s not a stranger technically. He’s Carter, my next-door neighbor. My extremely attractive next-door neighbor.

“So what do you call this, fate?” I tease.

His eyes narrow on mine as if he’s studying me, and I look away.

“I don’t believe in that either,” he says with a casual smirk.

I resist the urge to ask him what he does believe in. That seems like a mildly flirtatious question, and I don’t flirt anymore, especially with someone as handsome as he is. Especially someone as handsome as he is who lives next door to me. I would be furious if I caught Bryce doing it and I’m a Libra, so I’m sort of born to be fair.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Carter. Thanks for the water,” I tell him, heading to the door.

“Thanks for the help,” he says, following me

I ignore the heat that creeps up my spine as he nears me. No more Long Islands for me.

“Maybe I can get you a coffee sometime… as a thanks for helping me,” he says casually, as if he’s being friendly. But with a smile, face, and body like his, it’d hurt a girl’s pride, even a married girl like me, if he was just being friendly.

I scan his hand and notice he isn’t wearing a ring, but what does that mean? Plenty of married men go without a ring. Crap, why am I worried about whether or not he’s married when I’m for sure married?

“Married.” It comes out like word vomit, not cool and casual as I would have liked.

Both his eyebrows lift, and he laughs. It’s a great laugh, but how could he not have a great laugh when he has perfect lips and teeth.

“Okay, you’re free to bring your husband along.” He shrugs with a small grin.

My whole face begins to burn up. So he’s not flirting with me, and I’m not sure if I feel more relieved or disappointed. A little bit of both.

“He’s not much of a coffee drinker,” I say, stepping across the threshold. It seems darker on this side, and it’s cooler. The air conditioner is always blasting in the hallway.

“Well, until we meet again,” he says, leaning in his doorway with a casual smile that seems familiar and warm. That should feel unsettling, but it doesn’t.

I turn to open my door and realize I haven’t unlocked it. I laugh at myself and glance back to see that he’s still watching me with an amused grin.

“Keys would help,” I joke, and his smile becomes even better. How is that possible?

“Or telekinesis.”

“Or that,” I snort. Did I really just snort?

When my door opens, I’m almost sad.

“See you around,” I say once I’m inside.

I wait for him to close his door first, but I secretly hope he doesn’t. I realize I’m being an idiot, so I give him a small wave and ignore that it’s the first time in days I’ve genuinely smiled at a man including my husband.