To Have It All(57)

After Max left me when he found out I was pregnant, I’d read every damn inspirational quote ever written about healing; about letting go and moving on. How simple those words of wisdom read. The people who say holding on is only hurting you, and to let go of the hurt, are the worst. Does anyone really fucking think for one second that’s not what a person in pain would want to do? Of course we want to let go. Hurt is a living and breathing thing with long cold fingers that reach inside you and tear you apart. I struggled with that for so long—letting it go. I realized after some time it’s not as simple as just waking up and saying voila . . . it’s done, I’m letting go. It’s a culmination of many variables. Variables such as space and time apart; keeping busy, doing other things that bring you joy. There’s also feeling heard; seeing your pain recognized by the person that dealt it to you. That was something I would never get from Max, and it was a hard pill to swallow. No, I had to do the impossible. I had to forgive a person that wasn’t even sorry. Wanna talk about something that takes strength?

Then, in the mix of all that—the forgiving, the space, the hobbies—is a choice. They all go hand and hand, but that doesn’t mean you’ve healed, and it doesn’t mean you ever really will. It just means you’ve decided to drop the weight of hurt and store it away in the proverbial attic of your mind and heart, and walk on.

There was still hurt, and deep down I knew there always would be, but there was also room for more.

For more love.

For more happiness.

Tipping my glass back, I polished off the remainder of my wine. Laying my head on my arms on the table, I closed my eyes. The wine helped me relax tonight, but it was more than that. I was at peace, and I would savor the moment, however brief it might be. Max offered me something that night . . . maybe not an apology, per say, but an acknowledgment. Honestly, his words weren’t what comforted me. No, what filled me with contentment is I realized I no longer needed his acknowledgment or apologies. Maybe I was finally letting go after all.





Just as I closed the dishwasher, Helen entered the kitchen holding a freshly bathed and dressed Pimberly. As soon as Pim saw me, she reached out for me, practically flying out of Helen’s arms.

Squeezing Pim’s tiny little body to me, I kissed her temple, closing my eyes, inhaling her. She smelled like baby powder. The appointment with Dr. Banahan had been mentally clobbering, and it felt good to hug something, or rather someone, so untainted by this ugly world. I’d learned more about Max than I had wanted to. Today I learned that bad people aren’t born bad . . . they’re made that way.

“You okay?” Helen inquired.

“Yeah,” I murmured quietly, not wanting to disturb Pim as I felt her body begin to relax. It was incredible how hugging this tiny little girl that smelled like baby powder could make me feel so much better.

“How’d the appointment go?”

“Long story . . .”

“Speaking of that, where’s Waverly?” Helen asked, but before I could answer she was walking toward the dining room and peeking in. Turning back to me, she smirked. “I think she’s passed out.”

My brows rose. “Really?”

“Really.”

Taking a few steps toward me, she glanced up at me with her lips pressed together. She had something she wanted to say, but didn’t know how to.

“Spit it out, Hel,” I ordered as I bounced Pim who had her head nestled against my shoulder already on the brink of passing out.

“After I got Pim out of the bath and dressed, I put her on the floor while I went and hung the towel in the bathroom. When I came back,” she paused,” Pim had found something under Max’s bed.”

My eyes widened in horror as my mind went for the worst thing I could think of. “Please tell me it wasn’t a condom.”

Helen’s features twisted in disgust. “Ew, no,” she griped.

I released a relieved breath. “Thank, God,” I murmured against Pim’s head. “So what was it?”

“It was your backpack, Liam.”

“Damn,” I breathed. I’d forgotten about it. I remembered watching Max pick it up and run off with it, but with everything going on it got lost in the chaos. “He kept it,” I mumbled more to myself than to her. “Where is it now?” I questioned, worried Waverly might see it.

“I put it in the back of Max’s closet behind his suit jackets.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God Waverly wasn’t the one to find it. I have no idea how I would have explained that.

“Pim also found this.” Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“What is it?”

Helen cleared her throat and leaned toward me. “I think it’s a suicide note, Liam,” she whispered. After she’d unfolded it, she handed it to me. The paper was creased everywhere from where it had been balled up when Pim found it.



That’s where the letter ended. Though it wasn’t a clear-cut suicide note, it could be read that way. If it was a suicide note, he must’ve changed his mind about killing himself. Or he changed his mind about leaving a note. Hence it was found balled up under his bed. I’d learned from Dr. Banahan that Max was a sick man, mentally. However he may have appeared to the world, they only saw what he wanted them to, not what he was. So I was more sad than shocked to read this letter.