No Tomorrow

“There was a baby?” His dark blue eyes pool with tears and it’s like staring into two oceans of pure desolation.

I swallow hard over the suffocating lump in my throat. “I was twelve weeks pregnant. I kept waiting for you to come home to tell you. So I could tell you in person. I was so excited to tell you, Blue. I just wanted it to be special and not over the phone. I’m so sorry.”

“Baby, don’t be sorry.” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me so hard I lose my breath. “This is all my fault. I fucked up again.”

I bury my face into his chest. “No. It’s not your fault. The baby stopped growing weeks ago. Something must have just been...wrong.”

He shakes his head violently. “I should’ve been here for you and the baby. You were upset when I got stuck in London longer. I should’ve just fucking left. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Please...” I whisper. “Don’t say that. Please. Just hug me.”

We hold onto each other and cry for our little unborn baby. My heart aches so much I’m afraid it may never stop hurting, and I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling.

This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Are you okay?” His voice is raspy with pain. “Are you in pain? Tell me what I can do for you. Please. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“I just need you to hug me, that’s all. I promise you I’m okay and you’re not going to lose me. Ever.”

He takes a deep breath and his entire body shudders when he exhales.

“Does Lyric know?”

“No. I don’t think we should tell her.”

“Will there be a funeral? To say goodbye?”

Oh, my sweet Blue...

“No,” I say softly, too brokenhearted to say any more.

“So that’s it? The baby’s just... gone?”

“I’m sorry.”

I can actually feel the sadness engulf him like a black wave. His body goes entirely still. His breathing slows and quiets to a point of almost non-existent.

I’m terrified of what this could do to him, and to us. What happens when both people fall apart? Who picks up the pieces and holds us together?

He says nothing else, and neither do I. Our desperate hold on each other speaks volumes.

I carefully untangle myself from Blue’s arms and climb out of bed. He’s fallen into a deep sleep, exhausted from traveling and emotional overload.

Archie trails me to the kitchen, reminding me to fill his dishes which are inadequately filled. I make myself a cup of tea and call Lyric. She sounds happy—telling me about the movie Ditra and Billy took her to see and how she’s been beating Billy at a video game. I decide I’ll tell her tomorrow that her father is here. If she knows he’s here now, she’ll want to run home and I feel like we need a night alone together.

With Mickey following me closely, I take the phone out on the back porch and call Reece.

“Hey,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about you two. Are you okay?”

“I think so. We’re both upset. He’s asleep right now, he’s exhausted.”

“How did he take it?”

“He’s devastated. He’s trying to blame himself. I told him it’s not his fault. To be honest I feel like it’s my fault. I’ve been stressed and upset…”

“Piper, stop. It’s not your fault. Or his. It’s just a horrible thing that happens in life.”

I sigh and run my hand over my stomach. The pain is still lingering—physically and emotionally.

“You’re going to have to keep an eye on him,” Reece warns.

“I always do.”

“More than usual. If he can’t handle this, he could start using again to escape. So watch for him being in the bathroom too long, running the shower, or taking off randomly, look for track marks, sniffling, changes in his eating and sleeping, mood swings. If he’s acting too calm, angry, or too happy. You hafta watch for all this shit. If you think something’s up, call me, okay?”

Holy crap. All of that behavior could also just be normal. How am I supposed to know if something is a red flag?

“Okay,” I agree, feeling overwhelmed.

“Blue’s the kind of guy that will climb to the top of a fuckin’ mountain to try to reach that baby’s soul, Piper. I know him. And I know this is even harder for you. It’s not fair you have to watch him like a hawk when you’re grieving, but it is what it is.”

“I’ll be okay,” I assure him with confidence I’m not actually feeling. “We both will.”

“The rest of us are leaving here tomorrow. We’re gonna take a break for two weeks and then we’ll meet up in Seattle. I’ll call Blue in a few days to see how he’s doing. Are you okay? And Lyric?”

I pet Mickey’s head, finding comfort in his soft fur and calm demeanor. This dog hardly ever leaves my side. He’s a little ball of love and devotion, just like Acorn.

“We’re okay. I’m taking some time off work. I think it will be good for us to spend some quiet time together.”

Reece’s warnings have scared the hell out of me. I don’t want to have to treat Blue like an inmate. He’s my partner and my equal. He’s begged me to trust him and believe in him. If he senses I’m starting to doubt him, that’ll add to the stress he’s feeling over the band and the grief over losing our baby. I’m alarmed at how quickly he thought he lost me. At some point, I have to talk to him about that and figure out what was going through his head, and why he thought I would just leave him.

For now, I’m just going to do whatever I can to fill the next two weeks with as much love and calmness as I can.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Blue convinced me to tell Lyric about the baby, and once my head cleared, I realized he was right. She deserves to know that we lost a part of our family, no matter how young the baby was. We told her together the day after Blue arrived, and although she cried, she was amazingly understanding and sympathetic—showing mature concern for us that stretched well beyond her age.

Reece’s words about Blue trying to reach the baby’s soul have been haunting me, and I realize we all needed some kind of closure.

On Saturday morning, the three of us drive to a beautiful lookout point up in the mountains. Blue writes the baby’s name on a turquoise-colored balloon, and Lyric plays Somewhere Over the Rainbow on her harp as we watch Nicholas Von Bleu’s spirit gently float up to the sky and disappear. Blue stares at the sky with such an intense longing I fear he’s going to leap right into the clouds and try to follow that balloon.

Later that night after Lyric has gone to bed, Blue takes me out on the back porch, lights a few candles, and makes ice cream sundaes for both of us, insisting I let him do everything while I wait on the porch for him with Mickey.

“You don’t have to wait on me,” I protest when he sits next to me on the wicker loveseat and hands me a dish of vanilla ice cream with whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles, and butterscotch syrup.

“I need you to think of me as someone who can take care of you.”

“I do.”

His tongue piercing clicks against his spoon as he licks hot fudge off it.

My thighs tingle in response. I want him—need him— desperately, but it’s too soon for us to make love.

He shakes his head. “You feel like you have to take care of me. You’re always afraid I’m gonna have a meltdown or show up with coke on my face.”

I have never once imagined him doing coke.

“Blue, that’s not true.”

“It is. And ya know what? I don’t blame you. It’s my fault you have to worry about me. But I want to take care of you.”

“You do take care of me.”

“Not like I should be, and not like I want to. I don’t mean just financially. I want you to be able to count on me for everything.”

I wish he didn’t feel this way because I do believe he takes care of me. I don’t view him as weak or incapable. I just think sometimes he’s way too trapped in his own head with his thoughts and fears and dreams.

“When two people love each other, sometimes one has to be stronger than the other. It’s a tradeoff. There’s not a score card. It’s what love is about.”

“I know that, babe. And I’m lucky as fuck that you feel that way or else you probably would have kicked my ass out of your life for good.”

I lean closer to him and press my sticky sweet lips to his cheek.

“I could never do that. You’re too irresistible.”

A cocky grin crosses his face. “Yeah. Maybe I am,” he teases.

There’s no maybe. He definitely is.

“I’ve been doing some more thinking and I want to get out of the band,” he blurts out.

I swallow the ice cream in my mouth. “Really?” I have a love-hate feeling for No Tomorrow. On one hand, I’m so incredibly proud of Blue and the band’s raging success. He’s amazing and talented and just a god on stage. But on the other hand, I can see it’s slowly killing him. His heart is in songwriting and playing the guitar—not with fame and the rat race of being the front man of one of the most popular rock bands in the world. He told me a long time ago he wanted to be more heard and less seen and No Tomorrow flipped that on its ass. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t find a balance.