With all I'd done over the course of my life—the places I'd seen, the vast crowds of people I'd played in front of, the legends I'd met, the friends I'd made, the laughs I'd had, the insane amount of success I'd found—I could say with certainty that none of that compared to this.
Not the beautiful countries I'd visited, not the ridiculous amount of Hollywood glamour I'd encountered at countless award shows and events, not even the high of performing in front of a crowd of thousands of people.
I couldn't be sure, but it felt like her body was a bit bigger since the last time I'd held her like this. It was just as warm, though—as comforting as a fresh hot water bottle settled against an ache. And where her head lay against my chest, my heart—my own eyes closed. I breathed her in, that soft tuft of light brown hair, just slightly curly, like mine, and let my lips linger just above her soft scalp, barely touching the warmth of her head.
No. There was nothing else in the world that compared to this.
I probably would've fallen sleep, too, if not for the sound of the floor creaking nearby.
Madelyn looked sheepish when I opened my eyes, her mouth set in a wince as she held her phone up and pointed towards us.
"Sorry," she whispered.
My lips tugged upwards at the corners as I let my eyes drift closed again. "S'okay."
Nothing calmed me, soothed me, like holding my daughter as she slept. Nothing made me happier. More content. And even that didn't describe all of what I felt with her curled up fast asleep on my chest. The amount of trust she had in me, the amount of love I had for her...
I could be anywhere in the world, living my life in the exact way most people only dreamed of, and I'd still coming running back here—to this room, to this couch in my mother-in-law's house—to doze with her like this.
To feel all that I was feeling right now with her in my arms.
Madelyn's voice was clearly amused, and closer to me than it had been a moment ago, when she said, "She's drooling on you."
I felt laughter bubble up my throat, and opened my eyes to look down at Lila, who was so fast asleep, a long string of saliva had been trickling down onto my shirt for the last fifteen minutes.
"I don't care," I whispered, running my lips against her soft hair. Pressing small kiss after small kiss to her head.
Mads settled down on the arm of the couch just next to me, staring down at us, and her next words directly contradicted that action. "We should put her to bed."
I ran my thumbs down the soles of Lila's feet where they dangled by my hips. "Just a few more minutes."
Lila had to have been out cold for nearly half an hour now, and I'd been sitting here, holding her to my chest the entire time while Mads and her mum cleaned up after dinner.
I'd barely let go of her yet, to be honest. And she didn't seem to want me to.
Which resulted in a disconcerting combination of the utmost joy and the worst kind of regret.
Guilt.
But I wasn't letting myself focus on the guilt of not being around for two weeks of her life. Not when I was able to hold her and smile at her, and make her giggle that giggle that I'd missed so keenly these last couple weeks.
Mark had stayed for a while once we'd gotten home, the three of us just chatting and catching up until Michelle had returned home from work. Which meant that Mads and I had yet to have any alone time. Not that either of us minded the company, exactly, especially since we'd been away from her family for so long. And if I was being honest with myself, I didn't mind having the opportunity to put off the conversation I knew I had to have with her either.
Which was cowardly, but there it was.
Not to mention, I didn't mind having the extra time to spend with Lila—while things were still calm, and her mother was still happy and smiling beautifully and willing to be close to me, just like she was now.
I could smell her. Maybe that was a weird thing to notice, but we hadn't spent this long apart in a good while, so her shampoo, the delicate scent of her perfume—I breathed deeply, welcoming the wonderful comfort of her presence, the incredible way that she made me feel. Like I was home again, even after such a relatively short time away.
Then, Madelyn's hand was in my hair, and the sense of calm that had come over me sitting here, eyes closed, Lila fast asleep on my chest, Mads just beside me, became a sleepiness that was sure to pull me under if she kept it up.
"Feels nice," I mumbled, my head lolling to the side as her fingers combed through my hair.
"Good," Mads said through a smile, showing no sign of stopping.
I forced my eyes open, my head heavy against the back of the couch, and smiled sleepily at her.
How lovely she was. How... bright she seemed. She still looked as fresh as she had when we'd arrived at the house earlier today—her white shirt was spotless and unwrinkled, she was still in her jeans, and her eyes...
I'd forgotten just how much they could sparkle. Especially when she was smiling the way she was now.
"I missed you," she said then, that smile going nowhere.
The last two weeks flashed through my mind, a seemingly endless blur of nothing dotted by work and quick phone calls to my family, followed by more nothing.
More loneliness.
"I missed you," I said back, realizing as the words came out just how many ways I meant it.
When her brows drew together, her smile faltering, I knew that she understood, too.
"Alright, well, I'm heading—"
"Shh!" Mads glared at her mother, who had just rounded the corner from the dining room speaking at full volume. But when Michelle caught sight of Lila asleep on me, she winced.
Eyes round, mouth set in something like a grimace, Michelle nodded. "Sorry," she said, her voice much quieter now. The poor woman had gotten home from work and insisted on making a full dinner to celebrate my return home—her family being together again—and hadn't even changed out of her work clothes. "'I'm exhausted, I'm going to head up to bed. Unless you need me?"
"We're fine," Mads said.
"Thank you for dinner," I said right after.
Michelle just waved a hand. "I'm so happy to have all three of you back home."
I grinned at her, feeling a lightness in my heart to know that I was missed, not just by Mads and Lila, but by all of her family, too. What that meant to me—there weren't words.
Mads answered for me. "Us too."
It was still relatively early as Michelle headed up the stairs. Only just after nine o'clock. It made sense that Lila was knocked out—we'd selfishly kept her up longer than we normally would have because we were enjoying our time together so much—but I looked at Mads as soon as I was sure Michelle was out of earshot.
"Is she okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"It's just—" I glanced at the staircase, then back up at Mads "—it's a little early for bed, isn't it?"
Mads followed my glance with a sigh. "I don't think she's been sleeping as well since we got here." She met my eye again, her hand returning to my hair, brushing softly. "She hasn't said anything, but I'm sure I'm not the only one Lila's been waking up in the middle of the night." Her blue eyes went down to Lila. "Her schedule's been a little off with the time change."
I followed Madelyn's gaze down to our sleeping daughter, and felt the need to touch my lips to her head once more. It hadn't even occurred to me that the change from west to east coast time might affect her—which was pretty stupid of me.
It was just another thing Mads had had to deal with without me.
"Not to mention how much she's been working," Mads went on, and it took me a moment to realize she was still talking about her mother. "One of the girls quit unexpectedly last week, so she's been doing double shifts to help out her boss."
My eyes went back to the staircase as if Michelle might still be there to accept my sympathy. "Maybe it's too much for her."
"She says Miranda has been interviewing people, so I'm not too worried. Hopefully she'll find someone soon, and Mom will be off the hook."
I nodded, reminding myself that Michelle was fully capable of letting her boss, Miranda, know if things were getting to be too much for her, while also reminding myself that Mads and Lila being here twenty-four seven, after all these years of her living on her own, was probably just as exhausting as it was wonderful for her.
"Tired?"
I looked into Madelyn's eyes and shook my head.
"I would be if I were you." She smiled softly at me, her hand still gently running through my hair, making my eyes heavier and heavier by the moment. "Months of nonstop work directly followed by a red eye, then a long drive here from Queens, topped off by a six-month-old who clearly doesn't want you to leave her for more than a couple minutes at a time..."
I chuckled, glancing down at Lila again. All day, she'd started crying not long after I'd handed her off to someone else, and calmed down almost immediately when I was holding her again.
It had certainly made everyone laugh—Mark, Michelle, and Mads. It had made me smile, too. But the bigger feeling beneath that was pure guilt. If I'd never taken that job on the film, I never would've had to leave her.
She never would've had to leave me.
"You're allowed to be tired, Harry. Especially with Lila asleep on you, cause for whatever reason, that always makes me sleepy, too," Mads said then, drawing my attention to her once more.
Her dark hair was up in a pony-tail now. She'd put it up before dinner. But some pieces had gone astray since then, and were now curled gently against her face from behind her ears, sticking up just slightly by her forehead. With the lamp on just behind her, it looked like she had a halo of messy hair.
"But I don't want to be," I said, my head back against the couch again, her fingers still combing through my hair. "I wanted to catch up with you."
Even if dread filled the pit of my stomach at the thought.
"We can do that tomorrow."
But it wasn't just what I needed to tell her—it was also, and more importantly, what she needed to tell me.
"I want to hear everything."
"You will," she said. Reassuring me. "But you should get some sleep—"
"The coffee helped," I said, lying through my teeth, wishing I'd had more than one cup after dinner. "I'm good. Just let me put her down first."
I studied Lila on my chest, feeling almost like I'd completely forgotten how to be a parent as I wondered how best to do this without waking her.
"Need help?"
"I've got it," I said, having already scooted to the edge of the couch while still holding Lila to my chest—still fast asleep.
I think Mads was also holding her breath as I stood, my lips tucked between my teeth as Lila's head rolled around a bit beneath my chin. I couldn't see Madelyn's face, but I figured it was probably screwed up like mine as we waited to see whether she would wake or not.
But when she didn't, I pressed forward—striking while the iron was hot, as they say.
"Her crib is in Will's room," Mads whispered from behind me, and I didn't say anything or turn around before reaching the stairs and carefully, slowly ascending them.
I'd forgotten. It had been so long since I'd been in this house, particularly upstairs, that I'd forgotten what it felt like to walk through this hallway.
Michelle's door was closed at the end of it, but the rest were wide open, and I remembered what it had been like, walking through this hallway the first time, and the few times afterwards. The things I'd been feeling, the way Mads had looked—different each time, but always like the most wondrous thing I'd ever laid eyes on.
Now, holding another of the most wondrous things I'd ever beheld, I remembered all the times I'd walked this hallway before with a comforting sort of delight, knowing that the man I'd been then never could've imagined his life could get any more wonderful, any more beautiful...
But with Mads by his side, he should've known better. He should've known that life with her, even during the low points, was better, more, than it was without her.
This little girl—my baby, my daughter—was living proof of that.
Will's room was one I hadn't been in often. Maybe only the once, that first time I'd come here—on the 4th of July. He'd lent me a bathing suit for our volleyball game in the pool.
It still looked generally the same—the same grayish walls, the same navy blue bedspread, the same furniture. But there was a white crib along the far wall now, blocking a closet. And a changing table on the dresser, and stuffed toys scattered along the bed, as well as boxes of diapers piled high in the far corner, right next to a diaper pail.
I didn't want to wake her by turning on the light, so I left the door open, letting the hall light spill into the room as I strode for her crib. The dulled sounds of a television and the patter of rain on the windows were the only sounds as I gave her head another kiss then gently, carefully, laid her down on her back. Lila fidgeted and made a few soft noises as she settled in, as I pulled my hands out from under her, but when she stopped stirring, falling into sleepy stillness again, her little fists curled up by her head...
I couldn't leave yet. I had to watch her a little longer.
Her deep pink lips were just slightly parted, and in the darkness of the room, her lashes and hair looked darker than they normally did. The pink of her cheeks wasn't visible, but I knew it was there—as it always was when she slept. And her little tummy, her chest, covered by her pale yellow onesie, rose and fell in tandem every few moments, reassuring and wonderful and magical in their consistency.
And I couldn't help myself—I reached down into the crib, and ran my finger along her warm cheek, her brow. She didn't react, didn't stir, and part of me wished she would, just so I could see those blue eyes looking up at me once more tonight. Just so I could enjoy her a little bit longer.
But there were other things I had to do tonight. And I knew they wouldn't be particularly enjoyable.
Still, they were necessary, and I forced myself away from Lila's crib, making sure the baby monitor was turned on where it stood on the nightstand, certain that Mads had the other one somewhere downstairs.
Sure enough, she was sitting on the couch, her elbow resting on the arm beside her, her head propped up on a fist, and her knees gathered to her chest, waiting for me when I came back down the stairs—the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table in front of her.
"How was she?"
"Good," I said, turning as I reached the coffee table so that I could sit beside her. But not too close. Not yet. I folded my arms across my chest, feeling nervous and worried, already sure I knew the way this conversation was going to go. "She's fast asleep."
"Thank God," Mads said over a breath of laughter. "She's been tough since we got here."
She was rubbing her eyes when I glanced over at her.
"How are you?" I asked, knowing it was finally time to talk about it. Finally time to learn what it was she'd been dealing with. What we were looking at on the road ahead.
She let out a loud breath and looked at me, eyes still bright. Face a bit more serious. "Good. Better." She shrugged. "But it's only been a couple weeks. And missing you was hard."
There was a sharp stab of pain in my chest at that—because I knew what she meant, I'd missed her terribly, but also because of what I'd done. What I was still keeping from her. And the fear of owning up to it now.
But her first. I needed to know about her first.
"Yeah." I curled my hand around hers, and she laced her fingers through mine. "Let's never do that again."
She smiled. "Deal."
I jostled our hands a little bit. "So, what's been going on? Did the doctor give you any idea of what—"
"It's postpartum," Mads said, resigned. Her face serious again. Her eyes carefully blank. She nodded slowly. "Which I still just..."
She blew out a breath, but didn't go on.
"What?" I asked, trying to be patient.
She looked at me, the blankness leaving her eyes, making room for...
"I don't want to believe it, I guess," she admitted, curling her lips between her teeth as she shook her head. As some strong emotion filled her eyes. An emotion I couldn't yet place. "I mean, when she said it—I think I've known on some level all along, so it made sense. And Emily had already brought it up, and then you did, and I just... I couldn't accept it."
Frustration. That's what it was bleeding through the blue of her eyes.
And that occasional stubbornness I'd come to love even though it drove me crazy.
"We were just worried about you, Mads. We didn't—"
"I know, I know," she said, her hand tightening around mine for a beat. "I'm not saying you were wrong, I'm just saying that I wasn't ready to hear it. To—to face it." She looked down at our joined hands, then, and didn't look up as she went on, "It's scary, you know? Feeling that way. And it's... it's hard to talk about. But—but that wasn't, I mean... I don't think that's what—"
She let out a breath. A frustrated breath.
I angled my head so that she might look at me again. Not pushing her to just spit it out was taking every ounce of restraint I had. I was that desperate to understand where her mind had been these last several months.
Where my wife had been these last several months.
When she did finally look up at me again, I'd expected the tears. But to my surprise, these weren't tears that were going to fall.
She was so angry, she wouldn't let them fall if it was the last thing she did.
"This never should've happened," she said, her voice low and dark, her eyes shifting away from mine again.
I turned more fully toward her. "What d'you—"
"How is it possible, after everything I've been through, all that I've lost, that I could feel this way when I finally, finally have everything I ever wanted?"
I didn't have an answer for her, but I could sense she wasn't done anyway.
Mads shook her head, those tears pooling just above her lower lash line. "It's fucked up." She clamped her teeth together, shaking her head a little bit more. "It's so fucked up, I don't even know how to—"
She broke off again, her jaw clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing as she worked through it in her mind. She swallowed, again and again, willing herself not to let a single tear fall.
But tears—I knew how to handle her tears.
This—her anger... the anger that resulted not from what anyone had done or said, but from the way her own body had reacted to giving birth—
I didn't have a clue how to respond to that. How to make any of it better.
"I think what pisses me off most is how unfair it is to Lila," she said then, still looking away from me. But I could see from the downward tilt of her brows that she was still working through it, trying to make sense of it. "I should be the happiest I've ever been. And in so many ways, I am. But it's been tainted by this—this—" she waved her hand around near her chest in an impatient way "—this awful sadness and exhaustion and, and—constant fear and guilt that I'm not doing enough. That I'm not good enough. And I know now that all of it is because of the depression—but I hate it. I was so desperate to believe I could just swallow it all, at least for her sake. Put a smile on for her. Do the best I can for her. But still, I've been so scared that it's affecting her. Clearly, it's affected us, and I just—"
She let out another frustrated breath, shaking her head and blinking several times to chase away those tears once more.
When she laid it all out like that, I looked back at the last four months and saw everything for what it was. I'd been aware of it on some level all along, but because things seemed okay, because she was still smiling for so long, I never pushed it. Only accepted her half-smiles and brief kisses and told myself that she just had a lot on her plate.
We both did.
It was only when I couldn't look away—when things had gotten so bad between us, our relationship beyond Lila was basically nonexistent—that I'd acted. Only because Emily had forced my hand and made me look the situation right in the face and see it for what it was.
"I'm sorry," Mads said then, looking down at our joined hands again.
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I feel like I do."
"I'm the one who's sorry."
"You really have nothing to be sorry for," she said, eyes meeting mine then. And this time, I had to look away.
What she didn't know...
"If it wasn't for you, who knows how long I would've gone on before doing something about it? Who knows how bad things would've gotten? I'm just sorry I didn't open up to you sooner."
"I understand why you didn't." I toyed with her fingers, staring at the rings she wore.
The rings I'd given her, along with my promise.
My vow.
"I just—I feel like I put you through so much. Not just now, but... My state of mind has put us in situations like this before, and I can't help but feel like so many of our problems are my fault. And this in particular had absolutely nothing to do with you. It was all me and my stupid hormones."
"Mads, no." I leaned toward her, my hand lifting to touch her cheek.
She didn't stop me, but she did cut me off.
"I mean, at what point do you just throw your hands up in the air and give up, right? Everyone's got a breaking point."
"Madelyn—"
"I just—I feel like such a burden to you sometimes, you know? And that's the last thing I want to be. Especially these last few months. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had thrown your hands up this time considering how bad things got. Which is also part of why I didn't want to admit it, I think. To you or to myself." There were tears in her eyes again, and this time, one dropped into her lap. "Not only did admitting it feel like defeat, but I think I was afraid of what acknowledging it for what it was would do. How you might feel. Whether... that would be the breaking point for you."
I felt sick to my stomach. And if I didn't tell her soon...
She reached up and covered my hand, still on her cheek, with hers. "I only made things worse, though, didn't I?"
I couldn't say it now. Even if I wanted to, my voice had disappeared on me, chased away by the sudden lump in my throat, the dryness in my mouth.
"I know it doesn't mean much, but I truly am sorry. I know that I've put you through a lot, but it's because of you that things will get better now. So, thank you, too. For... for being there. Always. Even when I'm pushing you away."
Emotion had swelled up in my chest—to the point that it was hard to get a good breath. But she was smiling again. The tears in her eyes beaten back once more. This time, by that beautiful grin.
The guilt was creeping up my throat, threatening to spew.
"Anyway," she said when I didn't respond, and her eyes drifted away from my face, dipping back down to our joined hands between us. "All of this will be behind us now. I've got regular appointments set up with my therapist for the foreseeable future, and my psychiatrist put me on some low-dose antidepressants for the time being, just to get me over the hump. But don't worry, I asked if that would affect my ability to breast-feed, and she assured me that I still could. There is a really, really low-risk of side effects for Lila, but I don't plan to be on them long, otherwise I wouldn't have agreed to take them."
I nodded—all I was able to do as I tried to rally my strength. My voice.
What had I done?
"Are you okay?" Mads asked then, her eyes on mine once more.
But I could barely look at her.
Now, it was my turn to take her hand in both of mine and try to find the words.
The words that would take her heart and break it all over again.
"First of all," I started, feeling that I should address what she'd said first. "I want you to know that I understand your anger. I understand why you didn't want to believe that anything could be wrong given all that it's taken to get us to this point."
Two children. It had taken two babies from her to get to this point.
"And I understand why you felt guilty. Why you might still feel it. But I have to tell you, assure you," I reached up, touched her face again, and kept her hand in my other one, "that none of this is your fault. Postpartum depression is such a common thing for women according to what I've read, and it hasn't made you any less amazing as a mother. Believe me. Despite what you've been going through, you're still the most... incredible mum. Lila absolutely adores you."
Though there weren't any more tears in Madelyn's eyes, the blue was full of some unnameable emotion. When she looked away, trying to hide it, I used my thumb to tilt her chin back up. To force her to look at me. Because I had more to say.
I felt the corner of my lips quirk up, and my thumb stroked the soft skin of her jaw. "So do I, you know." Her lips lifted at the corners. Just slightly. "I love you now more than ever, I think. You're the mother of my child, Mads. You carried her in your body for nine months, then delivered her into this world with such strength. Such grace." I shook my head. "I could never have done that. Not just because I don't have the right parts."
It made her laugh, and that laugh made me smile.
"I've fallen impossibly more in love with you ever since, and I—"
I fucked it all up.
I hung my head. "I've never, ever considered you to be a burden. In any way, ever. No matter what we're going through. Even all those years ago, when I wasn't sure we'd make it, I wanted to, even though I knew it would be hard. And the day I made that vow to you, the day I put this ring on your finger—" I toyed with her wedding ring, her engagement ring nestled beside it, then glanced at my own "—I vowed to stand by your side through it all. To love you through whatever might come our way. And I've never taken that vow lightly."
Until I betrayed you. Until I went against everything I said that day just because things had gotten hard.
I fell quiet long enough that Mads angled her head to catch my eye, her small smile uncertain.
"I've always wanted this with you, Mads. Even when I— when I've fucked things up."
A certain kind of understanding formed on her face as I looked at her then. Not fear exactly, nor was it anger. Just... confused anticipation.
"I need to tell you something," I finally got out, unable to continue looking into her eyes. I ran my hand over mine, wishing for an easier way to get this out. But my breath was already coming hard, and I could tell by the shift in Madelyn's body—the stiffening—that she was bracing herself.
She remained quiet. Her fingers still in mine.
"I, uh—"
Oh God.
"When I was—when you were—"
"Harry... you're scaring me."
"I'm sorry," I breathed, trying to figure out how to say it. Trying to figure out a way to shield her from it now that we were here. "I just—I—"
"Harry?" Alarm. That was alarm in her voice.
"I kissed someone. Vanessa. I—I kissed Vanessa."
She was quiet long enough that I looked up at her again. Her blue eyes met my gaze directly, and I had to keep myself from looking away immediately. Even still, I couldn't read them. Couldn't decide if that was anger brewing there, or hurt, or just confusion.
Or a combination of all three.
"But you had to kiss Vanessa. For the movie."
"I didn't have to kiss her while rehearsing the scene. When the two of us were alone in her dressing room."
Mads blinked, processing that. And I kept waiting for it—the guilt to ease. But as I waited for her response, as I waited for her to get angry with me, which I'd prepared for, I only felt worse and worse.
And the longer she went on staring, her eyes once again carefully blank, nothing to indicate what she might be thinking in the blue—I was going out of my mind.
"I'm sorry," I said, which felt like the worst thing I could've said as it came out of my mouth. "Nothing else happened, and it didn't mean a thing to either one of us, but I—I didn't feel right about it, so I thought you should know."
Finally, Madelyn's eyes shifted away from my face. Her hand had gone completely limp in mine.
She still said nothing.
"It truly didn't mean anything." I studied her. "It was—it was only for the scene obviously. And then... it, things just got—but I—nothing more than that happened."
Silence.
She was so quiet that more incriminating words wanted to spill out like vomit, unceremonious and sticky between us.
"I promise, Mads, nothing else—"
"I heard you."
Her voice was wrong. Not angry, but... too calm. Too monotone. She blew out a long, slow breath and slid her hand from mine.
"I, uh—I'm gonna go to bed," she said, no emotion coloring her face.
And it was so unexpected, so not what I thought would happen, that I let her get up, let her walk around the coffee table before I thought to ask, "You don't want to talk—"
"I'm too tired right now," was all she said in return.
No anger. No hurt. Barely any sadness.
Just pure exhaustion.
Neither of us said goodnight. She only disappeared quietly up the stairs, leaving me alone with self-hatred in the living room, a hot, rising sense of guilt in the silence of her mother's house.
___
Author's Note:
Happy New Year, friends!! I hope that you all had a lovely holiday season with family and friends! And I am so, so sorry for not posting last week, you guys. As you may've seen in my post yesterday, I was sick over the holidays, and since my sister was home from grad school, I also wanted to spend as much time with her as I could, so I hope you understand. And I hope you liked this chapter!
Well... maybe not liked, but I hope that it made you feel things, and that it somewhat made up for the lack of an update last week. We'll be back on track now. Promise!
And I've FINALLY started to wade through all the comments I've missed on these last several chapters! Which, I'm embarrassed to say, brought me all the way back to comments from OCTOBER *covers eyes*. So, don't mind me just answering comments you probably forgot you left lmao, but I've really been enjoying reading through them! And I so appreciate you taking the time to leave them for me. All of your kind support is more heartwarming and reassuring than I can even begin to explain!!!
So, all that to say, THANK YOU. For your patience, your understanding, your kind words, and just your general support all these years. This'll be my FIFTH year posting on Wattpad, can you believe it?! Cause I can't *covers eyes again*. My life has been so much fuller ever since, and that's all down to you. I'm wishing you all the best for 2019, and always, lovies.
Meet'cha back here in two weeks. xx