Consolation (Consolation Duet #1)(4)

“Right. You’re always fine. You’re a damn zombie,” she scolds.

“I got a job,” I blurt, hoping it’ll throw her off.

“Doing what?” she asks skeptically.

“I’m going to work for Cole Security.” I can almost hear the disapproval through the phone. Too bad I don’t care what she thinks.

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea and a wonderful way to start moving on.”

“Glad you agree,” I reply, knowing damn well she’s being sarcastic.

She doesn’t understand. She and my father are still happily married. I lost my happily ever after. I want to be close to him, to feel something, to still have something to share with him. Cole Security Forces is the last place Aaron was alive. It’s the place he spent his days in working for Jackson. He’s in that office. He’s in this house. I can’t move on. I can barely breathe . . . but I do. For Aarabelle. Every day I get my ass out of bed, I get dressed, and I live in what small way I can. And all I want is a tiny piece of what I once had, so I’m going where I can feel him more strongly. It’s starting to fade here. I can no longer see him in the bathroom shaving, or remember what he sounded like when he laughed. I try so hard to hold on to it. I want it, but each day I lose another part of my life with him. The pain remains, but my memory of Aaron is slipping away.

“Natalie?” she questions as I wait in silence. “I think you should come for a visit. Maybe if you get away for a little, it’ll help you move on.”

“I am moving on!” I yell and then draw a deep breath.

“How? Have you met with the insurance people? Have you taken care of any of the paperwork you needed to?” she pesters me.

I swear she’s picking a fight just to get me to lose my temper. “I am. I’m done talking.” I don’t have an answer for her because the reality is . . . I’m stuck. I’m living in an endless cycle. Nothing changes. Nothing happens. I refuse to clear out his drawers or closets because then he’s really not coming home. Of course, I can’t tell anyone this. I need him. I want him so badly, but he left me that day. He kissed my nose and then my belly and told us he’d be home in a few days. He lied.

My eyes close and I can see his face. At least I still have that. His deep, brown eyes with tiny flecks of gold flash through my mind. The way his hair was always kept in a buzz cut. Aaron. My world.

“Natalie . . .” My mother’s soft voice breaks my daydream. “Please, let your father and I come get you and Aarabelle. We’d love to spend some time with you both.”

“No. I love you, Mom, but I’m doing good.” I see the monitor light up and Aara’s voice breaks through. “The baby is waking, I gotta go. I love you.”

“When you decide you’re not fine, call me. I love you, baby girl.”


I press the end key and put the phone away. Sitting here for a few minutes, trying to get a grip before I get my daughter. I love her so much, but she’s a clone of her father. Every time I look at her, it takes every ounce of strength I have not to cry. She gazes at me with those innocent eyes so full of love and it breaks a piece of my heart apart. Why won’t she ever get the chance to hold her father’s hand? Make him a cake. Tell him how much she loves him or to just know the love of a father. She deserves that. She should have both of her parents to guide her, but instead she only has me . . . a broken woman.

Each time her “uncles” come around, I hate them a little more. I hate that they can see her, hold her, touch her, but the one man who created her never will. The anger boils in my soul like a black cloud. It covers the light I’m desperate to see. Making the hope die out before it has a chance—because he’s dead. He took it away when he left this Earth. I want him back and not only in my dreams. I want to roll over and feel him next to me—instead I get cold sheets and an empty bed.

“Aaaaaa.” I hear my beautiful, little girl call out and I struggle to pull myself together. She makes random sounds while lying in her crib as I sit here in misery.

Stifling the emotions that burn, I gather the strength I rely on from my paltry reserves and go get my daughter. “Hi, peanut,” I coo as I enter her room. Just looking at her puts my life in focus. It’s amazing to me how children can completely alter your world.

Aarabelle is on her back looking at me with the love I’m desperate to hold on to. To her, the world is perfect. She doesn’t know pain, and in some ways she’s lucky. At least Aara didn’t fall in love with her father to have him stripped from her life. The things I worry about she’ll never fear because she’ll never have known it.

“Aaaaa!” she squeals as I look down at her. Her dark brown hair sticks out haphazardly and her brown eyes shine with adoration. She makes me want to get through this.

“Hi, baby.” She kicks her legs and her arms flail uncontrollably as I bend to scoop her up.

I hear a knock on the door as I cradle Aara in my arms. Every single time it happens, my heart clenches and my stomach turns. It’s been six months since that knock happened, and it still feels like the first time. For a while, I prayed it was Aaron going to show up and tell me this was all a giant misunderstanding. I place Aarabelle in her swing and draw a deep breath.

Unhurriedly, I move to the front door trying to quell the desires I conjure without permission. It’ll be Mark again . . . I tell myself and focus on breathing. It’s like having a mini panic attack each time.