I pause, needing a moment. I haven’t had to think about this in a while, and the emotions and feelings are too fresh. Too real. I pull away from Miles and lean back against the wall, then rest my head on his shoulder. He tilts his head until it’s resting against mine and grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers.
“After a while, I began to notice that the good moments with Brad began to outweigh all the sadness. The sadness that was my life became the moments, and my happiness with Brad became my life.”
I feel him exhale, and I know he knows what I’m talking about. I know that whoever she is, he’s had those good moments with her.
“For the entire nine months I was pregnant with Claire, I was so scared I wouldn’t be able to cry from happiness when I saw her. Right after she was born, they handed her to me, just like they did when Clayton was born. Claire looked just like him, Miles. Just like him. I was staring down at her, holding her in my arms, and tears were running down my cheeks. But I was crying good tears, and I realized at that moment that they were the first tears of happiness I had cried since the day I held Clayton in my arms.”
I wipe my eyes and let go of his hand, then lift my head off his shoulder. “You deserve that, too,” I tell him. “You deserve to feel that again.”
He nods. “I want to love her so much, Rachel,” he says, breathing out the words like they’ve been pent up forever. “I want that with her so much. I’m just scared the rest of it will never go away.”
“The pain will never go away, Miles. Ever. But if you let yourself love her, you’ll only feel it sometimes, instead of allowing it to consume your entire life.”
He wraps his arm around me and pulls my forehead against his lips. He kisses me, long and hard, before pulling back. He nods, letting me know that he understands what I’m trying to explain to him.
“You’ve got this, Miles,” I say, repeating the same words he used to comfort me with. “You’ve got this.”
He laughs, and it’s as if I can feel some of the heaviness lift away from him.
“You know what I was most afraid of tonight?” he asks. “I was afraid that when I got here, you’d be just like me.” He brushes my hair back and smiles. “I’m so happy you’re not. It makes me feel good to see you happy.”
He pulls me to him and hugs me tightly. “Thank you, Rachel,” he whispers. He kisses me gently on the cheek before releasing me to stand up. “I should probably go now. I have a million things I want to tell her.”
He makes his way down the hallway toward the living room, then turns to face me one last time. I no longer see all the sad parts of him. Now I just see a calmness when I look in his eyes.
“Rachel?” He pauses, watching me quietly for a moment. A peaceful smile slowly spreads across his face. “I’m so proud of you.”
He disappears from the hallway, and I remain on the floor until I hear the front door close behind him.
I’m proud of you, too, Miles.
chapter thirty-eight
TATE
I close the door to my car and walk to the stairs leading up to the second floor of my apartment complex. I’m relieved not to have to use the elevator anymore, but I can’t help but miss Cap a little bit, even if his advice didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me the majority of the time. It was nice just having him there to vent to. I’ve been keeping myself busy with work and school, trying to stay focused, but it’s been hard.
I’ve been in my new apartment for two weeks now, and even though I wish I were alone, I never am. Every time I walk in through my front door, Miles is still everywhere. He’s still in everything, and I keep waiting until he’s not. I keep waiting for the day when it will hurt less. When I won’t miss him as much.
I would say my heart is broken, but it’s not. I don’t think it is. Actually, I wouldn’t know, because my heart hasn’t been in my chest since I left it lying in front of his apartment the day I told him good-bye.
I tell myself to take it one day at a time, but it’s so much easier said than done. Especially when those days turn into nights, and I have to lie in my bed alone, listening to the silence.
The silence was never so loud until I told Miles good-bye.
I’m already dreading opening my apartment door, and I’m not even halfway up the stairwell yet. I can already tell this night isn’t going to be any different from all the other nights since Miles. I reach the top of the stairs and turn left toward my apartment, but my feet stop working.
My legs stop working.
I can feel the thumping of a heart somewhere in my chest again for the first time in two weeks.
“Miles?”
He doesn’t move. He’s sitting on the floor in front of my apartment, propped up against the door. I walk slowly toward him, not sure what to make of his appearance. He’s not in uniform. He’s casually dressed, and the stubble on his face proves he hasn’t worked in a few days. There’s also what looks like a fresh bruise under his right eye. I’m scared to wake him up, because if he’s as belligerent as he was the first time I met him, I don’t want to deal with it. But once again, there’s no way I can get around him and inside my apartment without waking him up.
I look up and inhale a deep breath, wondering what to do. I’m afraid if I wake him up, I’ll cave. I’ll let him inside, and I’ll give him what he’s here for, which definitely isn’t the part of me I want to give him.
“Tate,” he says. I look down at him, and he’s awake now, pulling himself up, watching me nervously. I take a step back once he’s standing, because I forgot how tall he is. How much he becomes everything when he’s standing right in front of me.
“How long have you been here?” I ask him.
He glances down to the cell phone in his hand. “Six hours.” He looks back up at me. “I need to use your restroom pretty bad.”
I want to laugh, but I can’t remember how.
I turn to my door, and he steps out of the way for me to unlock it.
My trembling hand pushes open the door to my apartment, and I walk inside, then point to the hallway. “On the right.”
I don’t look back at him while he walks in that direction. I wait until the bathroom door closes, and I fall onto the couch and bury my face in my hands.
I hate that he’s here. I hate that I let him in without question. I hate that as soon as he walks out of the bathroom, I’m going to have to make him leave. But I just can’t do this to myself anymore.
I’m still trying to gather myself when the bathroom door opens and he walks back into the living room. I look up at him and can’t look away.
Something is different.
He’s different.
The smile on his face . . . the peacefulness in his eyes . . . the way he carries himself like he’s floating.
It’s only been two weeks, but he looks so different.
He takes a seat on the couch and doesn’t even bother putting space between us. He sits right next to me and leans into me, so I close my eyes and wait for whatever words he’s about to say that will hurt me again. That’s all he knows how to do.
“Tate,” he whispers. “I miss you.”