I should've gone after her.
I should've followed her.
I should've moved my goddamn feet and went after the woman I love but I froze. I watched her walk out of my life for a second time and I knew I only had myself to blame.
Once the initial shock wore off, I was swarmed with immeasurable guilt.
I just fucking stood there, paralyzed to my core with buzzing ears and a hammering heart. I could feel my balls being sucked right back up into my abdomen.
I was ball-less.
Our exchange left me stunned, vulnerable. I've never felt so broken, incompetent, and worthless like I did in that moment. I felt powerless.
I didn't care that a bar full of people knew how horrible I had been to my wife when we were at our weakest. I didn't care about the gossip which would ensue. All I cared about was the hurt in her eyes when my gaze connected with hers. All I cared about was the absolute betrayal and resignation which splayed across her face. I still do.
It still haunts me to this day. Every time I close my eyes, it's all I see.
It's burned in my retinas.
I can't expel the betrayed look from my memory.
Days after the incident mama stopped by to check on me. We got into a heated conversation about the events which unfolded and why. Mama took it upon herself to educate and inform me of how warped my thinking was.
I regretted not giving Lana the chance to explain before I reacted and made a terrible mistake. One I can't take back. A mistake which can never be undone.
She really wasn't getting back with that tool. She ended her engagement just like she said she would. He kissed her and I assumed the worst.
Now here I stand in my backyard on thanksgiving. Alone. Unable to fathom the depth of the loss I feel. It's cold. Dark. Lonely. Worse than anything I've felt before. It's as though I'll never see the beauty of light again.
The guilt and the regret are smothering, suffocating. I'm trapped under water with cinder blocks chained around my waist. No matter how hard I fight to free myself, I can't.
I close my eyes, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets, and take a deep breath of chilly air into my lungs.
After Lana professed her love, I believed thanksgiving would be different this year.
All I wanted was to play a silly game of thumb war with my best friend and slow dance with the girl of my dreams.
I wanted to kiss her tenderly and hold her close.
I wanted to listen to her snide remarks about me letting her win almost every match we played of thumb war but in reality, she's a boffin at it. She's the better player. Always has been.
I wanted to steal the last of her dad's chocolate pecan pie and share it with her again. Every bite we took we giggled as though we were five again with the belief we would get caught.
I miss those moments.
They seemed so small, yet they were the most significant.
"I remember how y'all always snuck out here every thanksgiving," Nathan says behind me.
"It was our very own tradition. A way for us to celebrate us."
"I know, son," he stands next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. "I also know about the pecan pie," he chuckles.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I shrug with a soft laugh.
"Why do you think there was always a slice left on the counter big enough for two people to share?"
"I've never really thought about it. We assumed it was the last slice."
"Have you heard from her?" He asks after a moment. An uneasy stillness falls between us, the calm water of the creek infuriating me.
Why couldn't it be as unsettled as my heart? Raging like the thoughts inside my head?
Why couldn't it be suffering through my torment with me? Struggling to keep going in the midst of the storm surrounded by chaos and indecision.
"No," I respond gruffly. "I haven't tried reaching out." I don't have the balls anymore. They still haven't dropped.
I want to say just that, but I refrain as he taps my back in a caring, fatherly manner. "Whenever you're ready, I'm sure she'll be happy to hear from you."
"I wish," I force a smile.
"She's going to be crazy with anger, she has her mama's temper but after that she'll be happy."
"It's that temper which I'm afraid of," I play along.
"I know but if anyone can handle Lana's temper, it's you."
"I was always good at pressing her buttons," I admit, allowing the sound of nature to fill the silence following my admission.
The distinct sound of chirping crickets and croaking frogs and wind rustling through the almost bare branches of nearby trees creates an almost hypnotic melody.
It's enough to calm the raucous waves of the ocean during a tumultuous storm causing absolute pandemonium in my heart.
Even if just for a moment and it did but it didn't last long.
All I remember from that night after Nathan left is needing, wanting an escape. I set out on my journey to discover what's lurking at the bottom of multiple bottles of scotch.
I remember feeling relief momentarily before the regret of not going after Telana made itself known. I recall when the regret came crashing down on me for not giving her a chance to explain.
The worst part is I can recollect the wickedest regret of all collapse my fragile body to the ground. The guilt of fucking Lacey.
That's when I drank straight from the bottle with Hades curled up against me.
There might've been a few tears. In fact, I'm certain there was. I was paralytic.
I woke up on the living room floor with the tv remote stuck to my face. Our wedding video was playing on repeat. It tugged painlessly at my heartstrings as Telana's beautiful smile stared back at me.
That moment was eye opening.
It made me realize I fundamentally fucked up. I couldn't wait for her to come back home this time round 'cause she wasn't coming back. I needed to go find her.
A phone call wouldn't suffice. I needed to talk to her in person and that's what I set out to do.
After a couple of weeks of preparation, getting all the information I needed from her folks. I'm finally in New York city, standing in front of a closed door with 22A on it. Her door. Too afraid to knock.
My balls still haven't dropped but I'm trying my absolute best to shit them out as I raise my clenched fist. It's now or never, man.
I didn't fly all the way here to wimp out at her fucking door. I made it this far.
I crudely rap my knuckles against the door in quick succession. I wait for what feels like five minutes before knocking again, the sound echoing down the hallway.
"I'm coming!" An unfamiliar voice bites back through the door in irritation. The door swings open, the most obvious form of annoyance displayed across her fair face before surprise morphs her features.
"Uh, hi," she squeaks, giving an awkward wave of her hand. Her cheeks tinge red as she averts her gaze.
"Hi," I drawl, her wide gaze snapping to mine. "I'm looking for Telana."
Her full pink lips, part but she doesn't respond and my brows furrow. It's beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. They way she's staring at me. Has she blinked? I don't think she's blinked. Blink, blink, blink. Just blink already.
Why is this making me uncomfortable? Does she know something I don't? Is there something on my face? A sign prompting her to stare perhaps? Fuck, I don't like this. Do I have the correct apartment?
Blink.
Come to think of it, this must be an infinitesimal fraction of what women feel when encountering a douchebag. Awkwardness. Discomfort. A mix of confusion and fear. Fight or flight. Thousands of strategies to get out of the situation unscathed must flit through their minds.
Fuck, I'd love nothing more than to scrub the earth clean of all the scum who have nefarious intentions and thoughts.
Earth would be a happier place without them, and women would be a lot safer.
"I must have the wrong apartment."
She finally blinks with a shake of her head, "nope, you're at the right place," she smiles gently. "Lana isn't here."
"Do you know where she is?"
"Yes," she beams.
"Can you give me the address?"
"No," her smile drops. An are-you-for-real look dancing across her face. "I don't even know you," she deadpans, crossing her arms. She raises a brown brow, and it almost disappears beneath her black headscarf.
"I'm Alec. Lana's, uh, friend from Georgia."
"You don't seem so sure," she tilts her to the side with a knowing smile. "Wanna try that again, Lana's, uh friend from Georgia?"
"I've got a feeling you already know who I am."
"Well duh, Lana's my best friend," she rolls her brown orbs. "The question is do you know who you are to her?"
"Is this some sort of philosophical question?" I quirk a brow, adjusting my backpack on my left shoulder. Her orbs flick to my wedding band, a small smile curling her lips in the corners.
"It's whatever you want it to be," she drops her arms, leaning against the doorframe. "She's at The Blossoming Rose hotel in Manhattan."
"Thanks, uh?"
"Nadia."
"Did you know your name is associated with hope and new beginnings?"
"I didn't... how do you know that?"
"We were looking at baby names and their meanings before..." I trail off, unsure if I want to tell a complete stranger about our loss. A loss I'm sure she knows about already. "Lana miscarried. Nadia was high on the list if we had a girl."
"I think I like my name a little more now," she smiles, her doe eyes crinkling in the corners. "Thank you."
"You're welcome and thanks," I say before making my way out of the building. I like her.
After my fifth attempt at flagging down a taxi, the sixth finally stops and I get in. "The Blossoming Rose Hotel in Manhattan, please," I mutter, staring out the window at the busy streets, people mindlessly walking along the sidewalks in long coats.
The buildings turn to gargantuan skyscrapers, the streets busier, the sidewalks fuller. We drive past a billboard with a woman cradling her obvious baby bump.
"How many more what?" I ask in irritation.
"How many more nights are we going to play this game, Alec? You promised last night would be the end of this. For the sake of your health and our relationship, you promised."
"I'll get fucking drunk whenever I please!" I snap, feeling like a child being reprimanded by his parents.
"Then you leave me no choice," she scoffs. "I'm leaving."
"Then go. Go to your folks, see if I care."
In my drunken state I see the judgement in her eyes as anger radiates off of her in waves. I expect the rest of the town to judge me. They don't know what it's like to walk a mile in my shoes, but Lana knows the pain I feel. She feels it too. How can she openly display her judgment?
"No, I'm going to uni. I can't keep doing this!" So, this is what it's about. I've been waiting for her to bail. I knew it was only a matter of time almost like her miscarriage was a fucking blessing in disguise for her.
"I dealt with your temper in stride but this. I can't do this anymore! Not after my miscarriage."
A boisterous laugh escapes through my lips curling into a wicked smile. Blinding rage consumes me, and I say exactly what's on my mind. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you pulled this shit."
"Are you kidding me?"
Do I look like a goddamn clown? "Does it look like I'm kidding?" I take a threatening step forward. I try to fight the disgusting words bubbling out of my throat but with the alcohol and anger loosening my tongue. I can't fight the hateful words from seeing the light of day. "I knew you never wanted that pregnancy."
"What are you trying to say, Alec? I know you aren't insinuating what I you think are 'cause you, out of all the people, should know how hard this loss is on me."
The tremble in her voice does little to calm my anger and I laugh, "hard on you? Please," I sneer. "You were fucking happy. I was waiting for you to look for any excuse to run away to New York."
"This isn't about New York! This is about your drinking."
Can't she see the only problem with my drinking is her? This ain't me crying out for help or begging for validation. This is me coping with her fucking judgement and my loss.
"My drinking ain't harming you, Lana!"
"Yes, it is. It's hurting me now and if we can't work this out then I need to leave."
"Just fucking admit it, you wanted our baby dead."
I force the memories away, my heart pounding with regret. Immense sadness fills me. I wish I could take it back. I never meant a word of it. There's no reasonable explanation or excuse for what I said that night. None of which would paint my former self in a positive light.
Not that I care about shit like that. I'm not the same man anymore.
I was broken and shrouded in darkness. I hit rock bottom. I sought death with every single breath. Hoping it would end my suffering. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't see the damage I was causing to the one person I wanted to protect from my own selfish demise.
I couldn't see it then, but I see it now.
It was an undeniable cry for help. I was drowning in my grief. Not just for our baby but for my career. Lana seemed unfazed after a while. I had it in my head she moved on, but it wasn't Lana who was unfazed. She didn't move on. I just wasn't around enough anymore to see her dying from the inside out.
I never did get to tell her how sorry I am for the things I did or said. I'm hoping I'll have the rest of our lives to show her. If she'll have me.
"That'll be thirteen dollars," the elderly gentleman says, and I hand him a twenty, getting out the cab.
The château style building with a marble base transitioning into white brick for the upper stories is daunting. The green of the mansard roof ties together with the green trimmings surrounding the balconies.
Two large pilasters with an intricate design hold up a small covering leading towards the entrance into the lobby.
It's now or never.
The tinted glass doors open automatically as I approach them. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods fills my nostrils, soothing jazz caresses my ears and soft lighting illuminates the champagne-colored walls with dark wood paneling.
In the center of the lobby flanked by two lush green plants is a light brown wood receptionist desk. Blocking my view of the person behind the desk is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen.
Her brown locks cascade effortlessly down her back. The curled tips ending just before the small of her back.
I stand frozen in awe with weary eyes and shaky knees unable to tear my gaze from her ethereal beauty.
A pale blue jersey hides her marvelous curves, but I know it's her.
The sight of her makes me weak in the knees even more so when she turns around and her brilliant blue gaze connects with mine.
My heart soars to unbelievable heights, ripping through my chest.
Her gaze is relentless, unwavering with the ability to stare straight into my soul uncovering secrets I've long forgotten.
The space between us is crackling with high voltage electricity. My lips tingle with anticipation. The hair all over my body raising. My fingers pulsate with need to touch her, to stroke her soft skin like a delicate flower petal.
The throbbing electrical current between us intensifies, pulling us closer to each other. One hesitant step at a time.
Time.
It seems to slow and fade.
All I see is her in this moment and it belongs to us. It's a defining moment between two estranged lovers, fighting their way back to each other.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, my breath hitches, my heart seems to calm the closer our hearts get to one another.
It feels surreal. My eyes are burning but I'm too afraid to blink. I'm scared this is all just a mirage. A concoction my brain cooked up. A sickening, teasing fantasy to toy with my heart but it isn't.
She's really looking at me.
She sees me - like I'm being seen for the very first time in my life.
But then it all comes crashing down around me, pummeling me into the cold, hard ground.
The air is knocked from my lungs, the sharpest knife being stabbed into my heart. The person wielding the blade twists it for good measure causing the maximum damage.
I watch in slow motion how he approaches her, blocking me from her view. I can't stop staring as he embraces her lovingly.
Every dream, every hope, every ounce of happiness and positivity I possess gets sucked from my body.
I quickly slip out of the hotel lobby faster than my body can comprehend, and I blend into the crowd.
Realization hits me like a fucking steam train.
I'm too late.
A/N: I struggled to write this chapter and I hope it doesn't show as much as what I think it does. From the start, I never had a profound reason for Alec accusing Lana of wanting to lose the baby except his own grief. His own suffering and pain. Everyone grieves differently and everyone copes with loss differently. I wanted to show the impact it had on not only her, but him, too. This is the product of him losing his career and his baby. Again, I'm not making excuses for his actions or hers. They've equally made terrible mistakes and will continue to do so as they're only human. Loss of any kind is painful and neither of them have dealt with the past hence the story still continuing.
Tbh, when I started this, I had a clear message - if it's meant to be, it'll be. No matter how much time has passed or how much space there is. Love will always find a way. That was the clear message I had in my head but as I got further into the story, I soon realized my characters are more flawed than I anticipated. That is still the message but dealing with the past and healing from it has found a way into it. This isn't just some romantic book anymore. A fun, light-hearted book to enjoy and make you feel all warm and fuzzy.
As much as I wanted it to be that, I don't think it is anymore.
My characters are flawed, they're hurting and some of them are in so much denial. How can they possibly be happy and in love if they can't face the truth staring them in the face?
Anyhow, this ended up longer than I thought lol.
I really do hope I'm doing this story and my characters justice and it's not a bunch of gibberish slapped together.