Nova

“You still do that, huh?” Owen asks, though I don’t think it’s actually a question.

I look up from the straw wrapper I’m ripping to pieces. “Yeah,” I admit.

“Remember that place we used to go to after school sometimes? They had the best milkshakes.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I say softly.

Owen keeps trying to drag me back to the past—but it’s as painful as my present.

“What can I get you guys to eat?” our waitress asks, smiling with her eyes lingering on Owen. If he was still my boyfriend, it’d bother me, but not now, and I honestly can’t blame her. He’s a good-looking guy with an easy smile and dimples. I’m surprised he hasn’t found someone yet, but it’s becoming glaringly obvious Jace has been right all along.

Owen is still hopelessly in love with me.

And I don’t get it.

He left me.

I understand his parents forced him, I do, but he could’ve gotten a message to me, something to let me know he still cared.

I feel like nothing I say makes him understand I’m not in love with him anymore. There’s some part of him that still thinks we can pick up where we left off.

That should be reason enough for me to leave and go back home, but I can’t.

Jace still hasn’t texted me and it’s been three days. 

I finally turned my phone off so I couldn’t obsessively check it.

“I’ll take the cheeseburger,” I tell her, sliding my menu to the side.

“I’ll have the same.” Owen smiles, and those damn dimples pop out. I’m pretty sure the waitress swoons. 

“It shouldn’t be too long.” She smiles at him and grabs the menus off the table.

“How are you liking the city so far?” he asks, taking a sip of his Coke.

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I haven’t seen much of it.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been a very good host.”

I shake my head rapidly. “No, no, you’ve had to work.”

“We have the whole weekend starting tomorrow, so I promise to get you out and show you the must sees.”

“That sounds nice.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

“You have to see Times Square,” Owen raddles. “We should probably save that for night time. What about the Statue of Liberty? Do you want to see it?”

“Sure.” I nod. “I’d really love to see the MET.”

He grins. “I should’ve known. You always loved the field trips to museums.”

“I haven’t been to one in a long time.”

If I’m honest, the last time I was at a museum was probably with Owen. I hate thinking there’s something I’ve done with him that I haven’t done with Jace.

“Me either.” He slides his straw wrapper across the table to me, since mine is down to basically pieces of confetti. I pick it up and start ripping at it. “What about Central Park? You want to go?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He turns his head slightly to the side, studying me. “Nova?”

“Yes?” I draw out the word.

“Are you okay? And don’t answer with an automatic, yeah. I want to know the truth.”

My shoulders slouch. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Talk to me,” he pleads. “Let it out. You know I’d never judge you. Talk and pretend I’m not here.”

Looking down at the table and watching the little pieces of white float down as I break them off the wrapper, I begin, “I had to give birth to my son, and I didn’t even get to hear him cry, or take his first breath. There was nothing. Only silence.” I press my lips together and Owen doesn’t say anything, waiting patiently for me to continue. “It was like what happened with Greyson again, but so, so much worse. But the worst part was, even though I wasn’t alone, I felt more alone than I ever had. I felt myself drifting from Jace and that hurt the most.”

I pretend not to notice the subtle wince Owen has at the mention of Jace’s name.

He takes a breath. “I don’t know what to say—I don’t think there’s anything I can say, to make this better. But I think you should realize you have a lot of people who love and care about you and you’re not alone in this.” He swallows thickly and continues. “In fact, Jace is going through the same thing right now. If there’s anyone who can understand your pain, it’s him.”

I bow my head. Those words coming from Owen are like a bucket of cold water poured on me.

“It’s not that simple.”

He shakes his head. “Everything is simple. It’s our minds that make things complicated.”

“What did you think?” Owen asks, leaning against the railing of the ferry beside me.

The backdrop of the city is stunning as we head away from the Statue of Liberty.

“It smells,” I reply.

He chuckles, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, it kind of does.”

My hair whips around my shoulders and I know I should put it back in a ponytail or messy bun but I like that I can hide behind it. Sometimes, I catch Owen staring at me like he’s trying to figure something out, and I’m scared once he does I won’t like what he finds. 

“Are you really happy?” I ask him. He startles at my words—hell, even I startle at them because I wasn’t expecting to say them.

“Now that you’re here, yes,” he admits. “Before, I was kind of lonely. I mean, I have friends, don’t get me wrong, but none them really know me.”

“You know I can’t stay here forever, right?”

His jaw clenches and he looks down at the water, biting out a clipped, “I know.”

I’m not sure he does, though. I think there’s a part of Owen that thinks, or at least hopes, I’ll decide to stay here, stay with him, forever.

But why go backward when you’re moving forward?

I know nothing I do or say is going to change what he thinks.

He’s holding on to something that no longer exists while I’m letting go of something great.

Clearly, I’m an idiot. 

But these days away, I’m already starting to feel clearer. Yeah, I’m still infinitely sad, but I don’t feel as foggy. When I got up and got ready this morning it wasn’t because I felt I had to, it was because I wanted to. 

I even put on one of my shirts with their weird sayings. This one saying, you couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions. 

The ferry jolts and I fall into Owen. His arms come around me to catch me before I fall.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I’ve always got you.”

When I look into his eyes, I see him imagining a future with me and it scares the crap out of me. 

“T-Thanks,” I stutter, and extract myself from his arms, returning to my previous position. He sighs heavily beside me.

I’m hurting Jace.

I’m hurting Owen.

I’m hurting myself.

So much hurt—how’s there room for anything else?

“And this is the MET,” Owen proclaims, sliding out of the taxi.

I stare up at the imposing building and all the steps leading up to it. It’s beautiful but different than I expected. I can’t really say how so, but it is.

I frown, thinking of how I should be here with Jace. 

Exploring the city with Jace.

Going to restaurants with Jace.

Laughing and smiling with Jace.

We’ve always talked about the places we’d love to go together, and this was one.

But I’m here with Owen of all people. 

I press my eyes closed, fighting tears as I realize what a slap in the face it must’ve been to Jace.

I have to admit to myself, if I was in his position and he was leaving me to go stay with an ex for an unknown amount of time, I’d break up with him.

I don’t deserve him. I don’t.

Owen grabs my hand and I pull mine away so fast I nearly fall to the ground.

“Sorry,” he says, hurt flashing across his face. “I was trying to get your attention, you zoned out.”

“I’m a little jumpy,” I gasp, cradling my hand like it’s injured.

“Would you like to go inside?” he asks, nodding toward the building.

I hesitate but nod. “Yeah.”

He starts up the steps and I follow him. He pays for our tickets and we begin walking around.

I’m fascinated by everything, but I try not to linger too long on one thing, because if I’m honest with myself, I want to get this day over so I can have some time alone 

When we finish, we catch another taxi and go to Central Park. 

I feel comfort beneath the green canopy of trees. There are tons of people, of course, but somehow it still remains peaceful.

There’s plenty of shade, so it’s cooler than walking the streets.

Owen walks silently beside me. The air is thick between us and I get the impression he’s fighting saying something. I hope whatever it is he keeps bottled up forever. I’m not sure I can bear hearing it. There’s only so much one person can take and I’ve already been through so much.

After we’ve walked about a mile, Owen sighs. “I’m hungry, are you?”

I hadn’t realized it before, but I am. “Yeah, I could eat,” I admit.

“There’s a place around the corner up here.” He points through the shaded leaves to an area I can’t see but he must know. 

I nod. “Lead the way.”

He picks up his pace and we turn the corner and head toward the building.

When we step inside I gasp. “Owen, there’s no way I can afford this. Can we even get in here? It looks busy.”

“They know my dad—I can get a table, trust me.”

He walks up the hostess and drops his last name, casually mentioning his father, and I try not to roll my eyes.

“Yes, sir, right this way.” She grabs two leather-bound menus and leads us to a far corner of the restaurant. It feels more private and intimate and it instantly makes me wary.

Owen pulls out a chair for me and I flash him a grateful smile.

He takes the seat across from me and the hostess hands us our menus.

I open mine and blanch at the prices. “Owen,” I hiss. “Are you crazy?”

“Don’t worry about it, I got it.”

For some reason, those three words, I got it, makes me want to throttle him. 

I straighten my shoulders and force myself to look at the menu. I’m hungry and it looks like we won’t be going anywhere else.

“It’s fine, Nova. Stop fretting,” Owen warns, like my worry is a tangible thing.

“I’m sorry, but two-hundred dollars for a steak is insane.”

“Welcome to New York City.” He chuckles and adjusts his watch on his arm. “The food here is amazing, you’re going to love it, relax and enjoy yourself.”

That’s easier said than done, I want to tell him, but I keep my mouth shut. 

I figure it’s best not to rock the boat.

I finally settle on a pasta dish and close my menu so the prices can no longer make me nauseous.

When our waiter comes we both order—and Owen gets the two-hundred dollar steak, of course—and the waiter fills the glasses on the table with ice water. 

I sip mine gratefully, not realizing how thirsty I was as well as hungry. I’ve become all too good at ignoring my needs. 

 “How are things going with your photography?” Owen asks, his long fingers tapping against the table, almost like he’s nervous.

“Okay, I guess. I’ve kind of dropped the ball on it the last few months.” I hang my head in shame. The last time I turned my phone on I had twelve missed calls from Joel and finally a text shaming me for leaving him high and dry. I deserved everything he said and he was right. What I did was wrong. I’m not denying it.

“Do you ever feel lost?” I ask Owen suddenly. “But you know you’re not? It’s almost like you’ve stopped but the trail is still right there in front of you, but you can’t get your feet to move.”

He contemplates my words. “Yes, once.”

“When?” I probe. 

“When I couldn’t see you,” he admits. “I missed you so much and I knew you felt abandoned by me, and it hurt me too.”

“But you never tried to talk to me. You could’ve done something.”

“You know my parents—and yours too. Something would’ve gotten back to mine and it wouldn’t have been good for me.”

I hear his words, but I don’t believe them. I know if it was Jace and me, he’d find a way to let me know he was still there for me.

Then why hasn’t he called or text since you left? He’s probably already moved on.

I close my eyes and tell the voice inside my head to shove it. I left. I broke his heart. As much as I’d love to hear from him, I know I don’t deserve to. I’m the one who has to break the silence. I know it, but I’m not ready to do it yet.

“Sure,” I reply, and he makes a face like he doesn’t like that response.

Our food is placed before us and I use it as an excuse to not talk to him. 

My mind keeps spinning and it keeps landing on one word.

Jace.

It’s dark out by the time we arrive back at Owen’s apartment. 

“I’m going to go for a walk,” I tell him.

He pauses, his body curving toward mine. “Do you want me to go with you?”

I shake my head. “No, I’d like some time to think.”

He nods in understanding. “Be careful.”

“I will,” I promise, and watch him disappear inside the building.

The streets are quiet with little traffic here. I have no destination in mind, I only know I need to walk.

The further away from Owen’s apartment I get, the easier I can breathe.

I wander with no destination in mind. Eventually, I come across a wrought iron gate and, unable to help myself, I open it. 

I step inside a little bit of paradise surrounded by the chaos of the city. 

It’s a garden, lush green trees and flowers. So many flowers. It’s not a large garden, but somehow it gives off the illusion it’s bigger than it is.

I look around, a smile on my lips. I touch my fingers to a purple iris and it vibrates from my touch. I spot a bench and sit down.

A place like this is something you only think exists in dreams. There’s something magical about it.

As if conjured by my thoughts, tiny fairy lights strung through the trees come on.

I have no idea if this place is public or private, I probably should have checked before wandering into the unknown, but it’s so beautiful I can’t bring myself to care. 

I sit for a while, enjoying the cool night summer air, still slightly sticky with a hint of humidity, before I pull out a notebook and pen from my bag.

I open it to a clean page, resting it on my crossed legs, and hesitate.

After a moment I begin.

Dear Beckett,

I held you in my body for seven months. I felt you move, and every time you did it made me smile. I heard your heart and it was the greatest sound I’ve ever heard. I loved you so much and so did your daddy. I still love you—we both do. It hurts that you can’t be here with us now, but I’m glad I got to hold you for the time I did. Even though you weren’t here with us then, I hope you still felt my arms around you. 

Even though you’re not here with us, I keep reminding myself you’ll always live in our hearts. I’m terrified I might forget you, and I think that’s why I’m holding on so tight, but I know there’s no way that can happen. Your life might’ve been too short, but in that time I loved you with more love than I knew I had in my body. Which is saying something, because I love your older brother and daddy very much. 

I hope wherever you are, you can feel my love, and know I think about you every day. 

You’re never far from me. You live inside my heart and you’ll be there forever. 

I promise you.

Love Mommy

I close the notebook, fighting back tears. I stare at the words, tracing my fingers over them. It feels good to get them out, like I can breathe a little easier.  

It doesn’t heal all of the pain, but my heart doesn’t quite throb as much, so that counts for something.

A tear falls onto the closed notebook. As quickly as the one falls a torrent is coming. My cheeks become soaked with my tears and my whole body quakes with the force of my sobs. They’re the kind of sobs that make you wonder how your entire body doesn’t fall apart. I let the tears fall, each one cleansing my soul a little more.

I sit there for minutes, or maybe it’s hours, before they finally stop.

I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands, but I still feel the dampness on my cheeks and beneath my eyes.

I take a shuddering breath and hiccup.

I’m a mess. 

My whole life’s a mess, if I’m honest. 

I sit there a few minutes longer before I pick up my phone.

I go to my text messages and click on Jace’s name.

I stare for a moment, contemplating what I want to say.

I’m sorry.

I’m a horrible person.

I miss you.

I love you.

Nothing seems good enough.

I start typing anyway.

Nova: I miss you. I stare at the words, my finger hovering over the send button.

I wait and wait, but I can’t bring myself to send it.

I backspace slowly, watching every single letter disappear. I shut my phone down and put it away so I won’t be tempted to try again.

I close my eyes, tilting my face toward the canopy of trees above me.

In a city surrounded by millions, I’ve never felt more alone.