Present Day—Sixteen months later
THIS TOO SHALL pass.
I wish I held more belief in that saying. Truth was, not everything did pass.
“I know your heart feels like it’s breaking, Cassi, but it will get easier, I promise. With time, it’ll begin to hurt less.”
How could someone promise that? How could they possibly offer words of support when they had no idea what it was like to have a heart that was breaking? A heart that was barely beating for the sake of keeping you alive—keeping you alive to breathe your next breath, that at times, you had no desire to take?
Dropping my head back between my shoulders, I stared absently at the white-textured ceiling and drew in a deep breath. I held it for a moment, not sure when I’d be able to capture another, and then released it slowly through my nose. Nothing. It did absolutely nothing to relieve the pressure clamping down on my chest or steady my flare of anxiety that had been out of control for the better part of the morning.
So much for so-called breathing techniques.
Gathering every ounce of willpower I could find—which seemed to be waning more and more as of late—I slipped my feet into the pink flip-flops resting on the plush, cream-colored carpet and stood. My gaze drifted mindlessly over the room which had become more of a small sanctuary than a simple bedroom. Perhaps it was because it was the only space in the house that still held all his belongings. It was the one room I couldn’t bring myself to pack up. His shirts hung in the closet, perfectly color-coordinated, and his watch and glasses lay on top of the dresser, exactly where he’d left them. A suitcase sat open in the corner of the room, everything he’d taken with him on his last business trip tucked inside.
Regardless of my ability to clear out his things or what my mother and sister might have said, I was making progress, albeit rather slowly. Outside of this room, it was as if he never existed—as if his laughter never filled the space between the walls or his smile never brightened what was now nothing more than a hollow and empty home.
And that thought hurt.
It hurt a hell of a lot.
My gaze shifted from the dresser to the door of our en suite, and the usual burning sensation that accompanied the formation of tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
Why was I standing there?
It wasn’t like he was going to come waltzing out with that lopsided grin I loved so much. He wasn’t going to wrap his strong arms around me and drag me to the bed, placing tender kisses over my eyes and down to my lips. No matter how badly I wanted him to trace the curve of my neck, feel the scratchy stubble covering his jaw, or lose myself in the warmth of his breath as he whispered “I love you” into my ear, it wasn’t going to happen.
It hadn’t happened.
Not for sixteen months, eleven days, and twenty-three minutes.
But who was counting?
Pitiful, Cass. Real pitiful.
Reaching up, I swiped away the tears before they fell and hurried into the bathroom. I didn’t bother turning on the lights as I slipped out of my flip-flops—which I wasn’t quite sure why I’d even made the initial effort to put on—and the oversized T-shirt that no longer smelled like him. As I stepped into the shower and under the spray of water, I made a mental note to stop by the department store on my way into work and pick up another bottle of his favorite cologne. I knew it was insane, but I was doing what I could to cope with the pieces I had left of me. If it meant holding on to the last physical reminders I had of him, so be it.
Rinsing the shampoo suds from my hair, I closed my eyes and hummed softly, attempting to block out the sound of my mother’s concerned voice echoing loudly in my ears.
“This isn’t healthy, Cassi. I know it’s hard. I know it hurts, but you’re only making it worse. You need to let this go. You need to let him go.”
Her words brought me to my knees, the same way they had the first time she’d said them. My hands—which lay palms down on the cool, stone tile floor—curled into tight fists as my tears mixed with the water trickling in jagged paths over my face.
I’d already let him go.
I let him walk out of the door and right out of my life … forever.
Despite the hot water raining on my skin, my entire body was numb. I had no desire to go to work today. I had no desire to walk out of the house and pretend as if I wasn’t completely hollow inside—but I would.
I would because no matter how suddenly our own worlds stopped, the rest of the world kept moving. So we moved with it, searching for that one day, one hour, one second, when we didn’t hurt. When we could catch our breath and feel something else, something other than painful nothingness.
FIXING A COUNTERFEIT smile on my face, I stepped out of the car and shoved the little black bag carrying the bottle of cologne deeper into my purse. As I closed the door, I inhaled a mouthful of air that didn’t quite make it to my lungs and waved my hand in mock excitement.
Pretending to be happy, to be okay, was exhausting.
“Aunt Cassi!”
Bounding toward me with my four-year-old niece attached to her hip—her tight blonde ribbon curls bouncing with each one of her mother’s steps—was my sister.
“Hey, Cass.” She smiled softly, stopping in front of me and wrapping her free arm around my shoulders in order to pull me into a firm hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
We stood still, and I closed my eyes, burying my face in the crook of her neck and breathing in her lavender and mint perfume. The scent was comforting, familiar, a temporary distraction. “Me, too.”
It wasn’t a lie. I was glad to be there—really, I was. I was happy to see her and my niece, who was as cute as the odd button in the bottom of the metal cookie tin. I was excited to see my brother-in-law and my nephews, but socializing ... well, it was difficult.
Pulling back, my sister dipped at the waist to hike little Aubrey higher onto her hip and tossed her thumb in the direction of the house. “Hope you’re hungry. Ryan is finishing up dinner, and the boys are going through the stack of movies, debating between aliens and zombies. We’re having enchiladas tonight. Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect. I’m starving.” I pressed my hand to my stomach and smiled half-heartedly, feeling a little more at ease about the impending evening. “So, aliens and zombies, huh?”
She gave me an exaggerated eye roll and shook her head. “Boys, I’ll tell you. You want some company? I’ll gladly ship them off to Aunt Cassi’s for the weekend. I’m in need of a break. I’ve had about all the testosterone I can handle this week.”
“Ha.” I laughed, the sound genuine but the emotion behind it forced. “Not unless you want them coming back reciting every line of The Notebook.”
“Pfft. Please. I’ll happily take that over endless Minecraft talk and fart jokes. I mean, seriously? What is so freaking funny about farting? It’s disgusting. I’ll never understand it.”
“What’s The Notebook, Mommy?” little Aubrey chimed in, her adorableness warming me and almost causing me to melt into a pile of goo. Even at the young age of four, that little girl was so full of life. She was a breath of fresh air, and her inquisitive nature made her a joy to be around.
Lowering her chin, my sister brushed her nose against her daughter’s before pecking it with a kiss. “Only the best love story ever.”
“Hey now—” The deep voice floating from the front door grabbed our attention. Ryan stood there, wiping his hands clean on a white dish towel as he propped his hip against the wooden doorframe. A five o’clock shadow dusted his strong jaw, and there was no wonder why my sister had fallen so easily for him. With sandy blond hair and cerulean blue eyes, he looked as though he’d been plucked right out of People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive Edition. He was attractive and smart in a non-domineering way.
His lips slid into a goofy grin as he stared out at his wife. “I thought we had the best love story ever.”
Jenny smiled lovingly at the guy who had been her first in everything, and a slight ache panged in my chest as I watched them share a moment—a moment that reminded me how long it’d been since I was on the receiving end of such heartfelt endearments. The fingers clutching the strap of my purse tightened. I glanced away, searching for the strength to hold onto the feigned happiness etched across my face. Just because I lived my life in misery didn’t mean everybody else must. When I was confident my expression wouldn’t waver, I turned back toward them and folded my arms loosely over my stomach. My gaze found a spot on the ground where it remained as I fought against the heaviness crushing my chest.
“Hey, Cass. It’s good to see you.” Ryan’s voice saved me from that space I’d fallen into: the one I had trouble digging myself out of whenever I thought about Adam. He placed a large hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently, and my mind tried to catch up with the fact he was no longer in the doorway but beside me. “How are you? You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” Nodding, I gave him a tepid smile. “Hanging in there.”
An unconvinced look narrowed his brows. He knew I was lying through my teeth. Being a lawyer, Ryan spotted bullshit a mile away. Of course, he did. He was one of the best attorneys in his firm. Luckily for me, he forewent the questioning and simply returned my nodding gesture.
“Mommy, I’m starving.” Aubrey patted her small belly, a frown tugging at the corner of her pink lips.
“Okay, baby. We’re going.”
“Is Aunt Cassi coming, too?”
I pinched her small round cheeks between my fingers, like those annoying aunts always did, and answered before my sister had a chance. “Sure am, sweet cheeks.”
A larger-than-life grin spilled across Aubrey’s delicate features, and as we all turned around and headed up the tiled pathway, which led to the front door of their old brick colonial, I drew in a deep but silent breath.
Dinner with family shouldn’t be this hard.
“AUNT CASSI?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Why are you always so sad?”
My hand stopped its movement, my knuckles blanching as I gripped the yellow crayon between my fingers. “What do you mean?”
She didn’t look at me. Her big blue eyes remained hidden beneath thick lashes as she continued to shade in the clouds on the coloring page we’d been working on. After dinner, Ryan had received an unexpected work call, which kept him confined to his office, and Jenny was in the middle of wrangling Connor and Dylan, leaving me alone with little Aubrey.
“Mommy says it’s because Adam died and you miss him. Is that true? Are you sad all the time because you miss him?”
Normally, I enjoyed Aubrey’s need for information, her hunger for knowledge, but this particular question had me retreating into my shell—the same shell I’d spent half the evening trying to claw my way out of. If anything, I’d learned never to underestimate the intelligence of a child. They might be quiet or appear to exist in their own little bubbles, but they were so much more in tune with the world than we gave them credit for. They noticed what most adults ignored, focused on the things we tried to hide.
Reaching over, I tucked a silky blonde tendril behind her ear while chasing away the emotion building up inside of me. I refused to fall apart in front of her. “I do miss him. I miss him so very much.”
Aubrey climbed off her chair and rounded the table, erasing the distance between us. Wrapping her tiny arms around my waist, she buried her face into my chest, and I combed my fingers through the ribbons of blonde curls splayed over her shoulders and down her back. “I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”
“Neither do I, Aubs.” I gnawed on my lip to prevent it from trembling. “Neither do I.”
Jenny entered the kitchen a moment later, interrupting us. “Aubrey, come on, sweetheart. It’s time for bed.”
My niece squeezed me tighter. “Goodnight, Aunt Cassi.”
“Goodnight, beautiful girl.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I inhaled every last drop of her innocence and let her go. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll be back in a few,” my sister hollered over her shoulder as she carried Aubrey down the hallway.
“Take your time.”
Resting back in my chair, I stared at the silver stacked rings on my middle finger and spun them around. The house was quiet, and my thoughts wandered in the silence. I needed to be doing something—keeping myself busy. After all, it was what my therapist had recommended.
Don’t sit too long.
Don’t give your mind a chance to dwell.
I pushed out of my chair and walked over to the sink, turning the water on and rinsing off the dirty dishes before loading them into the dishwasher.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.” Jenny sidled up beside me, leaning against the counter, her concerned eyes assessing me.
“It’s no big deal.” I lifted a shoulder in a shrug and carried on. “Least I can do for you inviting me to dinner.”
Her lips tugged to the side, and she gave me a disapproving shake of her head. “Don’t be ridiculous: you’re family.”
“Okay, well … family helps clean the dishes.”
Rolling up the sleeves on her white cardigan, she bumped her hip playfully into mine. “Move over.” She tossed a wink my way as we both worked on emptying the sink—a chore we had done often together while growing up. “So… how are you? I mean, really, how are you, Cass?”
I sucked in a breath, not entirely sure how to answer her question. I didn’t want to lie to her, but if I told her I was so far from being okay, it would only lead to another unwanted discussion.
My family was concerned.
They were worried about me and wondering how I was carrying on from day to day, but that was exactly it: I was living day by day. The girl who used to make plans for the future now struggled to get out of bed—struggled to make it through her normal routine without completely falling apart.
I glanced over at my sister—who was in every way my opposite, from her honey blonde curls to her tan complexion—and tried to hold back the tears stinging the surface of my eyes. My composure lasted twenty seconds before the tears won out, spilling freely down my cheeks.
“Oh, sweetie—” Jenny dropped the plate in her hand, and as it clashed back into the sink, she wrapped me up in her arms.
A sob escaped from my throat as I fell into her supportive embrace, and I shook my head, barely able to get the words out. “I don’t want to be like this anymore, Jen. I don’t—” I couldn’t breathe. My lungs were on the verge of collapsing, much like the rest of my world had, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. “How do I make it stop? How do I make it not hurt?”
Her hold on me tightened, as if to protect me from myself, and her lips brushed across my forehead. “I don’t know, sweetie. I don’t know, but you don’t have to do this alone. We’re here. Understand me? We’re always here.”
I nodded into her chest, letting the hurt and pain escape the same way they had every single day since that night: through tears and broken sobs; through the cracks in my forever shattered heart. I had done everything recommended to lessen my grief, including weekly visits to my therapist, and while speaking with her helped, it didn’t erase the past—all my mistakes.
Time ticked by, and when my breathing returned to a steady rhythm and I’d managed enough strength to lift my head, I met my sister’s sympathetic blue eyes.
Gentle thumbs swept over my cheekbones in an attempt to erase what was left of the pain—pain that would only return the instant I stepped out of this moment. “I know you miss him … but, Cass, he’d want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you living your life in this never-ending cycle of guilt and regret.”
My lips trembled as I dragged in another shuddering breath, and her fingers glided across my face, lightly brushing away the strands of hair clinging to my wet cheeks. “If you can’t possibly manage to be happy for yourself, then be happy for him.”
Her words lingered in my ears, causing my chest to constrict in the most uncomfortable way.
Being happy was something I’d forgotten how to do without him.
With my mind in a fog, I allowed Jenny to guide me out of the kitchen and into the dining room, where she sat me at the table.
Her lips found their way to the top of my head, and as she stood behind me, rubbing my upper arms, she whispered into my hair. “You’re going to make it through this. Maybe not tomorrow or even three months from now, but I promise you, you’re going to know what it means to be happy again, to wake up and it not hurt.”
Another tear descended my cheek, and as I wiped it away, I sniffed back the ones eager to follow in its path. “Thanks, Jen.”
“I love you.” Thin arms looped around my shoulders, pulling me into another supportive hug. “I’m going to grab us each a cup of coffee, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
Only a couple of minutes passed before Jenny returned with two mugs in hand, hot steam billowing from the top as she set one down in front of me. I curled my hands around it, relishing the comforting warmth, as I pulled it carefully toward me and inhaled the rich aroma of freshly crushed coffee beans.
I took a sip, savoring the flavor as it coated my throat. “I don’t know how you do it.”
She eyed me curiously. “What’s that?”
“This.” I tipped my chin and gestured at the cup in my hands. “How do you manage to wrangle three boys—and yes, I’m including Ryan in that number—a four-year-old, and still have the energy to crush damn coffee beans?”
An amused chuckle slipped from her throat. “Oh, Cass.” She grinned at me. “Didn’t you know I’m superwoman?”
“No.” I mock gasped, my lips twisting to the side. “Really? You’re kidding.”
Another smile tugged at her mouth, and as she walked over to the china hutch in the corner of the room, I watched her slender fingers shuffle through the stack of white envelopes sitting on its shelf. Plucking one from the pile, she waved it in the air.
“You did remember to check with the post office to make sure all your mail is being forwarded back to your place, right?”
After Adam passed away, Jenny had insisted I stay with her until I was in a state to return home. It took nearly four months for me to gain enough strength and courage to step back into the house, knowing he wouldn’t be there when I did.
“Yeah. I did that months ago.”
“Well, this came here for you the other day. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but—”
She laid the envelope in front of me, and my breathing seized. A war of nerves bubbled in my stomach as I set my coffee mug on the table and ran the tips of my fingers over my neatly scrolled name, my gaze transfixed on the familiar red caduceus logo situated at the top left corner.
Jenny placed her hands over mine, but I didn’t look at her. I was frozen. My eyes were glued to the envelope, my entire body in a state of shock as the walls surrounding us closed in, slow at first and then faster and faster.
“You don't have to open it, Cass. Not if you don't want to. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Okay?”
I swallowed the thickness in my throat and nodded, barely registering the movement as my mind played catch up with my racing heart. “What if—”
Oh God.
My chest heaved as I tried to capture enough air to fill my lungs, and a new wave of tears quickly formed, lining my red and puffy eyes. “What if it’s—”
“I know this is hard, and the last thing I will ever do is push you, but maybe … maybe this is the first step in finding some closure. Maybe opening this is exactly what you need.”
Looking through a window of tears, I glanced at the envelope, afraid to open it, afraid it would hold a lifetime more of heartache and possibly worse: resentment.