The Way We Feel

Chapter 31

The green of the countryside and the blue sky above it passed us by in long blurs, but I was too excited to really focus on the the beautiful English scenery. It felt like we had just been here, and I was feeling much more jittery this time around.

It was only a few months ago that we'd come to see Harry's family—his Christmas gift from me. And despite our concerns at the time—we were both worried about how we'd feel to be back in England for the first time since the miscarriage—everything had gone well, and it was so nice to spend some time with Anne, Robin, and Gemma.

Especially Anne. Especially after what she'd gotten me through last year.

I'd always felt close to her, but when we'd arrived here just a few weeks after our Caribbean getaway, it was clear that both Anne and I had grown even closer.

She'd stayed near me that first night, touching me more than she normally might have—a hand on my arm, rubbing my shoulder in a side-hug, letting her hand fall on mine while we talked at dinner. And it was comforting and reassuring at a time when I was feeling very unsure and fearful. It was clear she wanted me to be comfortable, and I couldn't tell her enough how much I appreciated that.

Which had her basically telling me to shut up by the end of the trip, she'd had enough of my thank you's, and we'd laughed about it by the time we said our goodbyes after a lovely week together.

But the week didn't end before we had the chance to talk in private—Anne made sure of that.

She'd sent Harry and Robin out one day in the middle of the week, probably because it was finally clear to her that I wouldn't have a complete breakdown without Harry by my side. I didn't say it out loud—I wouldn't—but letting him leave that morning, watching him walk out the door...

I couldn't deny that there had been a moment of panic. I couldn't deny that my mind went right back to that day almost a year earlier, when I was alone with Anne while my baby died inside my body—Harry was hours away from me.

Luckily, though, I didn't need to deny it. Because Anne hadn't asked.

We'd bundled up and gone out for a walk together, the air crisp and cold in our lungs as we walked into town from the house. She led me past the café where it had all happened, her arm linked with mine, to a bakery not far down the street. The bell above the door tinkled as we walked inside, and the warmth of the air plus the delicious aroma of baked goods and coffee wrapped around us.

Anne turned to me, a grin tilting her lips. "This is where Harry used to work before everything happened."

I giggled, looking around. "I was wondering. He's threatened to bring me here, but never has."

Before Anne had a chance to respond, a young boy behind the counter asked, "How can I help you?"

Anne had ordered for us while I looked around, imagining a young Harry in here sweeping the floors, wiping down the tables, restocking the glass showcase with goodies, and greeting customers with his mop of curly hair, his deep, steady voice, and his insanely pink lips.

Anne had made a fuss over me when the owner came out, introducing me as Harry's wife and wishing everyone well on his behalf. Then we sat down with our treats and coffees in the relative quiet of the bakery at midday, and got to talking.

"I know we've already sort of had this conversation," I started to say, my coffee steaming on the table in front of me. I couldn't even touch my pastry until I got it all out. "But I've been wanting to thank you in person for what you did."

Anne set her cup down and swallowed, eyebrows raising before saying, "No need, sweet." She smiled at me, and the smile reminded me of Harry. "Though I wish it had never happened, I was glad I was there."