The Plan (Off-Limits Romance, #4)(61)

By the time I’ve finished my story, I’ve decided Kat deserves an Olympic gold medal for Facial Control in Insane Situations. She hasn’t widened her eyes once or given any “you are crazy” looks.

“Well, Marley.” She shakes her head. “I’d say you take gold for craziest night.”

I laugh, because of course she says something almost exactly like what I’m thinking. “I love you.”

She smiles. “I love you. And Mar? You’re gonna to be okay.”

I need those words so badly, I’m crying again, and Kat is on the couch beside me. “Marley and Miss Itty Bitty.” She rubs my belly, beaming with such gladness, it makes my heart ache.

“I’m a bad mom already,” I wail, pressing my face into my hand. “Why did I ask him, Kat? What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t love me.”

“Whoa there, sister. Let’s back up a few steps.”

I grab Kat’s hands. “I’m so sorry. That you were who found Mama.”

We’re both crying again as Lainey walks in, and so of course, she’s crying, too. We’re hugging on the couch, all three of us, and there’s so much estrogen in the room, I think I see it sparkling in the air.

“I can’t believe Mom’s gone.”

I wipe my eyes. “I can’t believe I did this. He just doesn’t want me like I want him,” I say, wiping my eyes with a tissue. “He doesn’t want me. I was dumb to think we could just do the baby-making part.”

Kat and Lainey handle me like champions, like Marley experts—which they are. They let me cry, and say whatever I need: that he’s hot and they get why I hopped in bed with him; that he’s nothing special, I can find somebody else; that it might work out in the end. Kat says he had wet eyes when she passed him in the hall. Lainey says she thinks he’ll be knocking on my door tomorrow. They both swear their loyalty as my kid’s aunts.

“And all you need in life is awesome aunties. Everybody knows that,” Kat says, smiling proudly.

“I want him or her to have a grandma.”

My breakdown goes on until just after one, when I can’t hold my head up anymore. Kat leads me to her bed and covers me with blankets. She turns on a box fan, puts a cup of water by my bed, and grabs one of her soft, insulated tailgate coolers. “Just in case you need a barf bag.”

I wipe my aching eyes, smiling a little, maybe out of pure delirium. “I could just walk to the bathroom,” I say hoarsely.

“No you can’t. No walking. You’re my pet project tonight, Marley Marie. I’m going to take good care of you.”

And I sob over that, because only Mom and Kat have ever called me Marley Marie. And Mama’s gone. She was here with my new baby for maybe a few brief days.

I hug a pillow to my chest and drift off, crying still, thinking of how brief and fragile life is—and how many things can heal or hurt a heart.





Part Four





“There is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. It is a duty to take this risk. To love and feel without defense or reserve.”



–William S. Burroughs





1





Marley





I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect him to turn up the next day. Not just expect. I hoped to see him. Wanted, needed to see Gabe. So when Kat walked me up my stairs and hung around and got me settled, and then finally left, I sat there on the couch and waited. I put my hand on my belly as a reminder something small and perfect was growing inside, even as everything outside was so awful. I knew I’d have to pick out a black dress and go to Mama’s house and pick one out for her, and in a few more days, I’d have to bury her. So I waited for him. To give me strength. To show me love. To support me the way I felt sure I’d support him if the situation were reversed.

And Gabe never showed. Not that morning, when I picked out black dresses, or that afternoon, when I got in my car and drove to Bledsoe’s Funeral Home to pick a casket and plan my mother’s visitation. Not the next day, when I met with the pastor and called all of Mama’s far-flung relatives. I hung out on the couch and walked on aching, noisy feet as I went to and from the kitchen, eating foods that didn’t taste good or feel good in my churning stomach.

The next day, I drove to Dothan to see a specialist, to be sure nothing was wrong with my body that would prevent the baby from thriving. Maybe I should have told Gabe, but I didn’t.

The next day, I got up, put on my black dress, and Kat and Lainey drove me to the funeral home, where I stood beside my mother’s casket, greeting most of town. Except for Gabe.

And afterwards, on a misty, white-gray day that felt as bare and apathetic as I felt, I buried Mom beside Daddy. I always thought I would be stoic when it came time for the funeral of someone I loved, but I sobbed when they lowered Mom into that awful hole, and threw a bunch of roses on the casket. I cried more when I got into Kat’s car, having not gotten a single glimpse of Gabe.

I feel numb as I ride home.

“I’m going to walk you up,” Kat says as she parks beside Gabe’s motorcycle.

I shake my head. “I’m okay. I just want to be alone a little while.”