Tyler
As I begin to wake the next morning, I stretch my limbs before reaching out to touch the body lying beside me. My eyes flash open when I’m met with a cold, empty space, and in Mia’s place is the T-shirt she was wearing last night, neatly folded, with a small note lying on the top.
Shit. She’s already gone.
A few seconds pass, and the reality of not waking up beside her sinks in. My heart free-falls to my stomach as a groan of realization leaves my lips. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I turn onto my side and take the small note in my hands to read it.
Last night was perfect…well, the last part at least, but I couldn’t bear saying good-bye this morning.
I love you, but I need to be on my own for a while.
Hopefully, I can find my way back to you.
If I do, I’m taking the T-shirt back.
Love,
Mia
I read Mia’s pretty handwriting a dozen more times, feeling rage bubbling up inside me as my eyes trace over the words good-bye, and, Hopefully, I can find my way back to you.
Good-bye? What kind of shit is that?
The way she says good-bye almost feels like she means it in the forever sense. She’s not even sure if she’ll find her way back to me. There is zero confidence in her written words, and that fucking crushes me. It’s like she’s given up on us all ready. She might as well have just written, It’s over, in big capital letters.
Defeated, I slump onto my back and let the letter fall onto my stomach where it feels like shards of glass are carving a broken heart into my intestines.
Instinctively, I reach out for the T-shirt, and I don’t hesitate to bring it up to my nose. I close my eyes when Mia surrounds me with her sweet and feminine smell, intermixed with the distinct citrus scent of the fragrance she wears. It overwhelms me but in the best yet worst way possible. Her smell is one of my favorite things about her, but smelling her in the form of the T-shirt she wore last night instead of waking up to her scent kills like a motherfucker.
I spent two months sleeping in this California king-size bed alone, and it’s been hell, but when I had her in my arms last night, my world felt right again. I knew it was only temporary, an illusion of perfection between a wife and husband. Now, reality has come back into place, and quite frankly, it’s a big, fat dick-slap to the face. She’s gone, leaving the bed feeling barren and cold. Leaving my heart feeling barren and cold.
At least she left a note. Even if every word is like a knife to the chest. I just don’t understand why she wants to be alone, especially after how angry she was for the two months of radio silence I gave her.
At the time, I thought I was giving her the space she needed, but now, I don’t know if that was the right decision. She was furious, but I think she’s become so accustomed to being alone that being with me again scares her. Or maybe I need to take her words at face value and believe that our separation isn’t her walking away from this marriage. That it’s about trying to find the person she was before the loss of our baby. The same way I did during the last two months.
If it means she finds her way back to me at the end of her inner search, then the separation will be worth it. Hell, I’d wait forever if it meant, at the end of it all, she’d be back in my arms.
I grab my phone from the side table to check the time and see it’s only six in the morning. As much as I would like to mope around all day, cry into Mia’s favorite T-shirt, and drink myself silly with a bottle of Jameson—been there, done that, and got the T-shirt—I have work in a couple of hours. With everything else happening in my life, I don’t want to lose my job in the process. Reluctantly, I get out of bed and change into my running shorts and T-shirt, all the while repeating the words of Mia’s note in my head, growing more frustrated with it, frustrated with the shit that life loves to throw at you.
How the fuck did my life turn to shit in such a small amount of time?
I’ve no idea if letting her have more distance is relationship suicide.
Am I losing her? Was last night the last time I’d ever have her in my arms?
Those are just a couple of questions I have no way of answering because I don’t know.
I don’t fucking know.
Shit, I’d give anything to talk to my brother Christopher. He was always good at putting things into perspective, the smart-ass he was. He’d have known the right thing to say, the right thing to do.
It just sucks I can’t pick up the phone and say, Hey, man, I need you. Tell me what to do.
God, what I wouldn’t do to hear his voice.
He’d have loved Mia. Especially knowing she was the one to tame my wild ways—or at least, wild is the adjective he always used to describe my flirtatious behavior with women. I wasn’t that wild, but compared to him, who had only had eyes for Jo since he was the age of five, I was the definition of the male slut.
My life changed the second Mia came into view at Matt’s birthday party, dressed as The Flash with a scowl on her face that said, Leave me the fuck alone, and what I later discovered was also a hint of, And, if you touch my ass, I’m gonna jump-kick you.
Of course, I didn’t leave her alone or touch her ass—well, at least not until our first date—and within ten minutes of being in her presence, I fell in love with her.
You can call me a pussy, but that’s exactly how it happened. Love at first sight is a thing. We’re proof of it.
I could call Ashton, my other brother, but things are strained with us. It’s nothing he’s done but rather what life did to us. A month before Mia lost the baby, Ashton’s wife, Ava, gave birth to a little girl named Francesca, and, well, it’s been hard to stomach his happiness when my life has been the complete opposite.
I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve happiness because he fucking does. Ava’s pregnancy wasn’t a walk in the park. It had its complications, and they could have lost their baby just like we did, but for them, it was meant to be. It’s just that everything is a little too close to home, and with where my head is, I can’t bear hearing how amazing fatherhood is and how Francesca giggled for the first time or how his three-year-old stepdaughter, Lily-Mai, can sing the alphabet song.
Ashton’s life is the polar opposite to mine, and it’s too much to deal with. It helps that they live in Seattle, and I’ve not been forced to witness firsthand how amazing their life is with their perfect little family. It probably makes me seem like a bad person that four months have passed, and I’ve yet to meet my niece, but when life decides to fuck you in the worst way possible, common decency tends to go out the window.
Mom says Ashton understands why I can’t meet Francesca yet and that he’ll be there for me when I need him.
I need him now—as well as Christopher—but the sense of resentment toward Ashton is still too raw.
I will call him…eventually.
First, I have a marriage to save, and that is more important.
Even though it’s only just after six, the humidity is stifling, and within twenty minutes of running at a good pace with Harley running in front of me, attached to my jogging belt, he soon begins to slow down, panting heavily against the heat. I slow to a stop and pour the water from his portable water bottle into the attached dispenser tray, and he laps up more than half of the bottle. We set off again, but as I try to pick up speed, he’s left trailing behind me. I stop and turn to look at him. The instant my eyes lock on him, he drops himself onto the asphalt with a heavy sigh, his sleepy puppy-dog eyes almost begging for us to turn back.
I chuckle. “I guess you’ve had enough, huh?”
I turn back, and we walk the two miles back home. A few minutes into our return home, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take my phone out and see I have a FaceTime call from Jo. I answer, and I give out a crooked grin when I see my seven-year-old nephew looking back at me with a matching grin, shuffling a spoon of cereal into his mouth. Immediately, my mood improves.
“Damn, Junior, you’re getting just as handsome as your uncle. We could be twins, little man.”
He shakes his head, giggling. “You wish you were as handsome as me!” he exclaims with a bravado that has me chuckling deeply.
I swear, he’s seven going on seventeen.
“You wound me; you truly do.” I mockingly wince, dramatically clutching my chest. After a few seconds, the humor on my face turns neutral. “So, what can I do for you?”
He glances up over the camera, looking a little unsure, and I hear Jo in the background reassuringly say, “It’s okay. Just ask him.”
He returns his eyes back to the screen, still a little hesitant. “Um, you can say no if you want, but would it be okay if I stayed with you this weekend? The Cowboys are playing their first game of the season on Sunday against the Broncos, and I want to watch it with you.”
I grin, wanting nothing more than to spend some quality time with my nephew, especially when it involves football.
Since Jo moved to Austin earlier this year, I don’t get to see him as often as I used to, but I still get to spend weekends with him when possible. It doesn’t even matter that it’s a four-hour round-trip just to pick him up and bring him back to Dallas; the miles are worth it.
“Firstly, you can stay with me whenever you want—you know this—so I don’t know why you were so nervous to ask me. Secondly, hell yes! You know you’re the only guy I want to watch the Cowboys with. There’s just one thing,” I say with fake disappointment.
He visibly frowns. “What’s that?”
“We can’t watch it on the big screen. I will only have access to the game at the stadium.”
It takes him a minute to register my words, and the instant he does, he drops his spoon into his bowl of cereal, his eyes doubling in size. “Are you serious?” he yells with excitement.
“Yes, I would never joke about something as important as football.” My smile grows, and for a second, I’m able to forget about Mia.
“Yes!” he exclaims before jumping out of his chair. He disappears from the screen, leaving me looking at his cereal bowl and the front door in the distance.
“Um, hello?” I probe, grinning when I can hear his eager squeals in the background.
He pops back onto the screen, a little out of breath, the biggest grin on his little face. “You’re the best uncle in the world! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I shake my head with amusement. “Shh…don’t be telling Uncle Ashton. He’d cry like a damn baby, knowing I was the best uncle. Let’s just keep that between us, okay?”
He frowns. “Yeah, but Mama’s here in the kitchen, packing my lunch, so we can’t exactly keep it a secret.”
I have to resist laughing. God, I love this kid.
“Your mama likes me better, so I wouldn’t worry too much about her telling him.”
Jo suddenly appears behind Junior, placing her hands on his shoulders, a smirk on her face. “Who says I like you? I tolerate you. I don’t like you.”
“Don’t give me that crap, woman. You don’t know what you’d do without me in your life.”
In fact, that’s a lie. I don’t know what I’d do without her in my life. She’s been a part of my life since I was four years old. We’ve been through a lot together—good times and bad—and excluding my mom and Mia, she’s the only other woman I would protect with my life. She’s my best friend. My family. Plus, I made a promise to Christopher at his funeral that I would watch over her and Junior, and even though she has Drew now, I continue to do so.
“You’re right; I’d be absolutely lost without you and your cussing ways,” she dramatically states with a roll of the eyes. “Oh, and while we’re on the topic of cussing, stop swearing in front of your nephew!” she berates, giving me the evil eye, all the while discreetly flipping me off behind Junior.
“Yeah, you’re one to talk, Miss Flipping Me the Bird Donovan. And when the hell did I swear?”
“It’s when you said crap, and just before, you said hell and then again just now,” Junior says matter-of-factly while munching on another spoonful of his cereal.
I crack up just as I approach the end of a road. I take a quick glance to check that no cars are coming before I cross with Harley panting in front of me.
Jo looks down at Junior in somewhat amused disgust. “Junior Bailey! Take your breakfast and go eat in the living room before I’m forced to wash your mouth out with soap—and, trust me, it tastes horrible. Just ask your uncle Tyler.”
I wince at the thought. Once you get the soap treatment, it’ll distraught you forever. The taste—it’s kind of hard to forget. My tongue’s tingling now with the aftertaste of what I’m sure is demon poison, and it’s been years since I’ve had to suffer it. It’s not like I never deserved it, but, damn, I used to think my mom had been summoned by the devil. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized my brothers and I were really the devils in disguise. Christopher was a lot smarter than us, so he never got the soap treatment, but he wasn’t always an angel. How she didn’t strangle us is beyond me.
“Ew, really?” Junior cries out with a look of horror on his face.
“Yeah. It’s the worst. That’s why you shouldn’t swear or do anything stupid in front of your mom. Ever. And, judging by that huge vein popping up on her head, I’d skedaddle before she gets the soap out ’cause your mom grew up with me, and I know everything she learned is thanks to your grandma.”
Jo frowns just as an alarmed Junior jumps from his seat and grabs his cereal from the countertop.
“Bye, Uncle Tyler. See you this weekend!”
I chuckle at his quick exit.
Kids are so gullible. One of the things I know about Jo is that, even though she’s a badass mom and strict when she needs to be, she would never give him the soap treatment, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
“Don’t get too comfortable, little man. We’re leaving for school in fifteen, so your butt had better be standing beside the door with your shoes on!” Jo shouts behind him before turning her gaze to me. She plops herself on the seat, a mug of coffee suddenly appearing in front of her. “I do not have a vein popping on my head, dickweed!”
That has me laughing even harder. “You do realize, everything I say is just to get a rise out of you. Relax, Ho Jo, you don’t have a vein popping on your head, but you do have a booger hanging out of your nose.”
Instinct has her hand wiping at her nose.
The Big Bang Theory fan-geek in me is the only reason I say, “Bazinga!”
Her nostrils flare with annoyance. “You’re an ass!”
“An ass who just made your kid’s day,” I point out.
Her face smooths out. “Yeah, I guess you kind of did,” Jo says with a genuine smile.
“He kind of made my day, too.”
Jo’s brows furrow at the melancholy way my words sound. She leans forward in her seat, cupping the mug in her hands. “Is everything okay?”
“Definitely okay healthwise. I’m healthier now than I ever was in my youth, but emotionally, I’m a train wreck.”
“Mia?”
I love how one single word can pinpoint the cause of my inner turmoil.
I nod.
“What’s going on?” Jo is forced to ask when I don’t voluntarily give any other information after the nod.
I glance away from the phone, my eyes tracing the street in front of me, trying to sort through my emotions. I look back to the screen with a heavy sigh. “Mia and I spent the weekend together. Well, not all weekend, but to cut a long weekend short, I surprised her at a friend’s thirtieth and then walked in on her in the bathroom where we almost had sex before she went apeshit and couldn’t get away from me fast enough. I then turned up at her apartment on Saturday morning with a box filled with her favorite croissants after begging her mom to tell me where she lived, only for Mia to yell at me about suddenly bombarding her after two months of silence—which is a fair argument. I, however, managed to use my oh-so magic charm against her,” I say with a wiggle of my eyebrows, “and persuaded her to come round for dinner on Sunday, so we could talk. Last night, she turned up, looking sexy as hell, with a matching fiery-as-hell attitude. We talked, then talk turned into yelling, yelling turned into crying, and crying turned into ripping each other’s clothes off before it turned into some more yelling because I’d said something stupid. She’d had quite a bit to drink, so I all but forced her to stay in the guest room where she disappeared while wearing my Star Trek T-shirt.”
“The Star Trek T-shirt?” Jo asks with surprise, knowing the very premise behind the T-shirt.
“The one and only. Then, sometime in the night, I woke up to find her standing at the bedroom door before she pretty much jumped on me, sobbing her heart out. I don’t know if it was the dark surroundings of the room or that our emotions had finally hit rock bottom, but we finally had the talk we needed, and she told me she wants more space. That before we can become a we again—or if we can become a we—she needs to focus on herself and figure out what she wants. I’m just…having a hard time with letting her have more space when I’ve given her two months already. What the hell do I do?”
She looks thoughtful for a minute before letting out an exhale of air. “That’s a lot to take in before I’ve even had my second cup of coffee.”
My mouth twists up in a slight smile. I should have known better than to inundate her with this so early in the morning. She usually doesn’t become a human being until after her third coffee. And she’s even worse if she doesn’t take her daily dose of too much sugar—just ask Drew.
“How was she?”
“She looked healthy, but mentally, she’s really struggling. Even though I saw little glimpses last night of the woman I married, the rest of her is buried so deep that it’s hard to imagine her ever being anyone else. The miscarriage has really changed her. I don’t know how I’m supposed to give her more space, knowing how much she’s suffering. Am I supposed to just merrily live my life as she attempts to fix herself while trying to decide if I’m worth the vows we said to one another?”
Jo leans closer, sadness darkening every inch of her face. “I hate that you’re both going through this. I wish there were something I could do.”
“Just tell me what to do,” I almost beg, desperation clear in my tone.
“Tyler, I can’t tell you what to do. I’ve never gone through anything like this, so I’ve no idea what she’s feeling, but if she wants space, I think the best thing to do is give it to her.”
“But, after having her in my arms one minute and then waking up to a goddamn note that says, Hopefully, I can find my way back to you, it makes me feel like I’m losing her before I’ve even had a real chance to fight for her.” I give out an angry huff, grinding my teeth together.
“I guess you’ve got to have faith.”
I frown. “Is that all you’ve got? I thought you were more hard core than that.”
She raises a brow, and I see her resting bitch face set into place.
“Oh, you want hard core, huh? Okay, I’ll give you hard core.” She leans even closer until she’s literally only inches from her screen. “Stop being a goddamn pussy,” she begins, keeping her voice low for the benefit of Junior yet still delivering one heck of a punch with her words.
See? Hard core. This is the girl I grew up with.
“You can’t expect everything to return to normal after one weekend. So, grow a pair, stop bitching, and keep fighting for her. Or give up and spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been. It’s up to you.”
She sits back with a smug smile before bringing her mug to her lips.
“Attagirl,” I say with praise. “Bitchy Jo knows no bounds. Any more insults to throw my way?”
“Um, other than I think you’re a dipshit and a fuckwit rolled into one?”
“And don’t forget about dickweed,” I point out, humor managing to find its way into my voice even though the last thing I feel is happy.
She smiles fondly before her face straightens out, a serious glint in her eyes, and I know the hard-core Jo has disappeared.
“You should give her the space she needs but don’t lose her on your radar again.”
“Now, you’re back to talking in riddles again.”
She rolls her eyes, and I know she’s only seconds away from flipping me the bird again.
“How you ever got a girl like Mia is beyond me! Just for one second, can you not be a total guy and just listen?”
“Sorry, go on,” I insist, smiling despite myself.
She throws back some more coffee before continuing, “You probably just overwhelmed her. She’s going through something that even you don’t fully understand.”
I try to argue, saying that I do understand everything she’s going through, but she cuts me off, “No, Tyler, you don’t. She experienced it to the extent of pure flesh and bones.” She glances over in the direction of Junior. Then, she stands and picks up her iPad before beginning to move. “One second. I don’t want Junior to hear this.”
Once she reaches what looks to be the bathroom, she continues, “Mia carried her and gave birth to the baby; it’s a bond, a unique connection no father could ever begin to comprehend. The loss she’s experiencing is so deep, and even though I’ve never been through what she has, the thought of losing Junior kills me. So, just imagine what she’s going through, add on the fact that she’s not heard from you for two months, and then, bam, all of a sudden, there you are. It’s not exactly subtle, is it, dude? I mean, I know I told you to give her space, but, Jesus, two months? Even I thought you’d given up on her.”
I find myself working my jaw back and forth, and I quickly realize I was wrong. This is hard-core Jo, and I love her for her brutal honesty.
We grow quiet, and each passing second, I become infuriated with myself. If I hadn’t waited so long, things might be different. We might be in a better place, not almost on the verge of divorce.
This is all my fault.
“Tyler, don’t be pissed off with me. I’m just speaking the truth here.”
I shake my head and stop in my tracks, much to the dog’s relief as he falls to the ground with an exhausted sigh.
And, if he were human, I’m pretty sure that would translate as, Thank fuck for that.
“I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself. I didn’t intend on leaving it so long, but I never gave up on her. I just kept waiting for the right moment, and when the right moment didn’t suddenly appear out of thin air, I decided to wait until it was our friend’s birthday party to do exactly what I’d promised—to fight for her. Once I decided that was the day I was going to fight for my wife, something inside me clicked. I started working out more, eating better. I even went to see a therapist for a little while.”
Jo’s eyes widen with surprise at my revelation. Me, the guy who’s emotionless and likes to keep things bottled up, seeing a shrink. I know; it was a shock to my system, too.
“I wanted to be a better version of myself, both inside and out. I wanted to be able to live up to my promise, and in order to fight, I had to build up my strength. Once I had my head on straight, I assumed she’d be in the same headspace, but obviously, I was wrong, and I was wrong to have waited that long. Now, I’ve no idea what my future holds, but I do know one thing. I’m still not giving up on her. I’m determined as ever to win her back. I just wish I knew how.” I give out a heavy sigh. “I suck at stuff like this.”
“You’re better at it than you think. Why didn’t you tell me you’d gone to see a therapist?”
“It’s not exactly something I wanted to shout from the rooftops. I mean, emotion isn’t really my thing. It took a lot of inner persuasion just for me to step foot in the therapist’s office. It was another thing to even let myself open up to a complete stranger,” I admit, feeling my chest constrict as emotion builds up in my veins.
“Well, I would have been a lot less judgmental if I’d known that. I just thought you were being your old self. The person you were before you met Mia. I understand now why you waited. I mean, when she left you, you could have chased her down, made a fool of yourself. You could have ruined it all, but you didn’t. Instead, you waited until you were the Tyler she had fallen in love with before you tried to win her back, and that’s the type of thing a man does.”
“But who’s the say I haven’t already ruined it?”
“Because, when a woman who’s separated from her husband doesn’t plan on divorcing him anytime soon, the woman is still holding out hope for her marriage.”
I don’t get a chance to respond as I overhear Junior’s voice in the background. “Mama, I’m ready.”
“Shoot,” Jo says while glancing at him before returning her gaze to the screen. “I’ve got to go.” Her surroundings begin to jolt around as she moves out of the bathroom and toward the main room where the kitchen and living adjoin. “Give her a couple of days to cool off, and try again, but you’ve got to be more subtle about it. Start off with a text or two. Send her some flowers. Show her you are a man of your word. And, Tyler”—she pauses, smiling—“you’re going to get through this. You guys are meant to be together. You just have to believe in the cause.”
I do…but does Mia?
After last night, I’ve no idea.
“Thanks, Jo. I’ll catch you later. Say hi to Drew for me.”
“Will do,” Jo says before Junior yells out, “Bye!”
The FaceTime call ends, and I’m left on the sidewalk, a little dazed, my brain still processing her earlier statement.
Is what Jo said true? Is the reason Mia hasn’t taken the extreme of filing for divorce because she’s holding out hope for us?
God, I hope it’s fucking true because knowing that means I’ve got a chance to turn this shit around. And I will.
I won’t let her walk away from me. A love like ours doesn’t come around very often, and I plan on keeping a tight hold on it, on her.
A week, a month, or even a year from today, I’m going to make sure she’s exactly where she belongs. In my arms, wearing the T-shirt that started it all.