Ready for You (Ready #3)(77)

“Hi, Mrs. Finnegan.”

She gave me a pointed look, and I laughed, remembering her previous request that I call her Mom.

“Sorry. Hi, Mom.”

Her smile broadened. “Better. Now, come on in. It’s hotter than blue blazes out there. I don’t think summer is going to give up quite so easily this year.”

We made small talk as I followed her into the kitchen. She pulled out a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge, and I helped by grabbing two tall glasses from the shelf, remembering where they were from my earlier visit.

“How are you doing? I feel terrible about not visiting sooner,” I said as she poured our glasses and handed one to me.

“I’m doing a little better every day. There are times when I come into the living room and expect him to be sitting in that favorite chair, yelling at the TV over some stupid football game, but for the most part, my life has adjusted as best as it can.”

I sat at the kitchen table, and she brought over some freshly made cookies.

“Clare made these and brought them over. She keeps bringing over sweets. I believe it’s her way of coping, but I think I’m going to bust out of my clothes soon!” She laughed.

“I guess we all mourn differently.”

“Yes, we do. Each of us handles loss in our own way.”

She paused, and I looked up and found her comforting green eyes.

“How did you mourn, my dear?”

I took a cleansing deep breath, knowing now why I’d come this morning. It wasn’t just for comfort. It was for healing.

“I don’t think I have,” I whispered quietly.

She nodded as if she understood or recognized the pain.

“I think it’s time you let yourself do that, sweetheart,” she said gently.

“But I don’t know how. How do you mourn the idea of something? How do you let go of a life that never happened? There are no memories, no stories. She didn’t even have a name.”

“You give your lost child a name and let me do the rest.”

That conversation had been a turning point for me. It had given me the strength and courage to do everything I’d accomplished in the last two weeks, and it had brought me to where I was now—standing at Garrett’s front door. I was ready to say good-bye to my regrets.

With a steady hand, I took a deep breath and knocked.

I heard the radio kick off, and a set of footsteps grew louder as they made their way to the door. My heart rate accelerated with every step he took, knowing what I was going to say.

The door swung open, and there he was, standing before me in dark jeans and a green T-shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. His breath caught the moment he saw me, and what looked like relief danced across his features.

“Mia.” He said my name and it sounded like a prayer as it left his lips.. “Thank God. I didn’t know how much longer I could stay away.”

He pulled me close, breathing me in, as my body was engulfed in his. His lips found my forehead, and he placed a soft kiss against my skin, silently telling me he loved me.

I was home.

No building or structure would ever feel as inviting and safe as Garrett’s warm body wrapped around mine. Homes were not built of wood or brick. They were built by the memories and love we created in them. As long as I had Garrett, I could go anywhere, do everything, and conquer any obstacle life threw at us.

“I’m so sorry it took me so long,” I said softly.

“I told you I would wait. I meant it. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to see you,” he confessed.

He pulled me inside and shut the door behind us before ushering us to his room.

“I just need to hold you,” he admitted when I raised my eyebrow at his location selection.

Hearing no complaints from me, he lay down on the plush mattress, and I settled in next to him, breathing in a sigh of contentment.

“I missed this,” I said, running my hands under the hem of his shirt to feel the tight skin of his abdomen.

He sucked in a breath as my fingers skimmed his stomach, and I smiled, knowing I could still affect him so with just a single touch.

“There’s so much I want to tell you, Garrett, so much I want to explain. When you left me that day, I thought I’d never be able to pull myself out of the ocean of guilt I’d created. How could I move forward when I was the one to blame for all our failures?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him.

“No, it’s okay. I’ve come to terms with it now. I’ve realized that there are things in life that cannot be controlled. Grief is a part of life, but it can’t become our life. I’d allowed grief to take over and rule my entire existence because I’d never allowed myself to say good-bye to our daughter. I’d held on to her, the grief and the life I’d never know. But it wasn’t really grief I was experiencing. It was regret and shame. I was blaming myself for snuffing out her existence, and by doing so, I wasn’t allowing myself to let go.”

His eyes were glassy. “And did you finally say good-bye?”

“No,” I answered honestly.

A bit of disappointment flashed across his face, so I continued quickly, “But I’m going to…today. We both are.”

His brows furrowed together in confusion as he sat up on his elbows. “I don’t understand.”