Ready for You (Ready #3)(76)

“Mia, life with you would never be a dead end. I don’t care if you could give me a hundred children or none. I didn’t fall in love with you with any expectations. I fell in love with you, only you. If life had presented us with a dozen different choices for our future, I would gladly choose any of them as long as you are by my side.”

I took a strangled breath. I hated myself for what I was about to say, but I knew that it needed to be said if we were ever going to move forward with our lives together.

“Mia, I’m willing to make a life with you, regardless of what kind of life that is. The future is unwritten, and I want to spend my life discovering ours together, but I can’t do that while you’re still grieving the past. You’ve been punishing yourself for far too long, and it’s time to let it go.”

Letting go of her hand, I kissed her softly on the forehead and stood. I felt her eyes on me as I walked to the door of the bedroom, and as I turned around, they were still watching me.

“When you’re able to do that, I’ll be waiting. I’ll always be waiting for you.”

I forced myself down the steps and out of the door, hoping the next time I returned that it would be for good.

Chapter Twenty-Five

~Mia~

It had been two weeks since I watched Garrett walk away as I lay helpless and unable to move forward with him. It had been fourteen days since I cried myself to sleep, clutching that sonogram in my hand, like I’d done so many nights since I’d returned home.

The next morning, I’d woken up alone with nothing but a worn black-and-white photo to comfort me, and I’d realized he was right. I had been stuck in the past. No matter how much I’d wanted to move forward, I had been bricked in behind a solid wall, separating myself from everything I wanted because I was drowning in my own regrets.

Unfortunately, my realization hadn’t come with a solution or an instant cure. Eight years of blaming myself for something that, deep down, I knew I had no control over hadn’t been an easy hurdle to overcome. Eight years of buried emotions take time to unearth and as much as I wanted to run back to Garrett and tell him I was miraculously cured, I knew I had to find a way through this by myself.

I’d spent the first few days going through the motions of my life, putting on a happy smile even though I felt like I was crumbling. Leah had blessedly been off work, so my happy-go-lucky routine had been, for the most part, overlooked. I’d managed to skate by without much notice. My nights had mostly been spent in silence as I had gone through every old photo I had, remembering the life we had and the life we were going to have.

I’d smiled and laughed at the goofy photos, remembering the sunny summers we’d spent at our spot by the river. My mother had never allowed me to wear a bikini, and I’d hated every suit she’d ever bought me. Much like the great shoe rebellion when I was sixteen, I’d snuck out and bought a bright pink two-piece. I’d never seen Garrett’s eyes flare so feverishly. He’d dragged me into the water and pushed me against a smooth boulder, and he’d shown just how appreciative he was of my new purchase.

Not every photo had brought back happy feelings. There was one that had instantly made my lips tremble and my womb ache with emptiness. We’d taken it the day I confirmed what I’d secretly been expecting for over a month.

After many tears and a few panicked moments, Garrett had jumped off his childhood bed and reached into a drawer in his dresser, pulling out a camera. As I’d wiped tears from my eyes, I had asked him what he was doing, and he’d said he wanted our son or daughter to know how happy we were when we found out about them. So, we’d cuddled close, nudging our heads together, and snapped a photo. My eyes were rimmed with red, and my lips were puffy, but both of us were grinning from ear to ear. We had been ready for it all, but it was never meant to be.

I’d spent days doing this, dwelling in old photos, while my future was wasting away—and Garrett was waiting for me to take the leap and leave it all behind. Guilt and regrets were a funny thing. I had wanted nothing more than to run out my front door, jump in my car, drive in the direction of Garrett’s apartment, and tell him I wanted him and only him for the rest of my life. But every time I’d looked at the front door or coaxed myself into putting on my shoes, I would remember the day I’d lost our child. Fear would settle back in, and I’d sink back further into my hole.

He’d said he didn’t care. He’d said he wanted me. But what would happen in a few years when everyone our age was pushing around a stroller or complaining about daycare costs? How would he feel about his decision then? Would he resent me?

On one of my many nights of photo-bingeing while lying on my bed, letting my self-deprecation sink in deeper, my eyes had settled on the photo of Garrett and me standing with his parents. A twinge of pain had hit sharply at the sight of Garrett’s father standing next to Garrett with an identical grin on his aged face. Garrett looked so much like him, but his eyes were all his mother’s. She’d passed that trait on to both of her children, and those signature green eyes were hard to miss.

The next morning, on my day off, I had driven to a sleepy neighborhood in search of something only a mother could provide—comfort. Since my mother had never been more than a disciplinarian, I’d gone to the one woman I’d always looked up to and loved since the first minute I met her so many years ago.

“Mia,” Mrs. Finnegan greeted me at her front door with an inviting smile.