He promised it wouldn’t be for long and if there’s one thing I know about Beau, it’s that he never makes a promise he doesn’t intend to keep. With the exception of one time. When I told him I was pregnant, he promised he’d be by my side through every moment. What he didn’t take into account, though, was how hard it would be for both of us that his brother was the one who’d gotten me pregnant.
Of course, it bothered me in a different way than it did him. While I spent months feeling guilty that I wished it would be Beau’s baby I was pregnant with, he was angry that his brother had, in his mind, taken advantage of me in my drunken state.
I wouldn’t change a thing now, of course. However, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve wished for the same connection with Beau as I had with Chris.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I close my eyes, not being able to look into my own eyes. The guilt I once felt comes back like a sledgehammer to my chest. That bond I had with Chris will be with me forever, but it’s broken. And I hate myself for once wishing it had been with Beau. There was not a soul on this earth who Chris loved more than Zoey and the thought of him not having that kind of love before he died… I can’t even think about it.
I shake my head as tears burn the back of my eyes and my throat. I want to cry all the time thinking of how unfair it is that Chris left this earth too soon and that Zoey misses him so fiercely but still has moments of confusion as to why he’s never coming back. I want to cry that Beau is sad and missing his brother. His parents and Max, the same. And I want to cry for myself, because I’m selfish and struggling and hate that I’m now truly a single parent.
“Shake it off, Addy,” I whisper angrily to myself. I splash water on my face and pat it dry with a towel then hang it up on the rack. The rack that Chris hung for me because I mentioned not liking the one that was here before it and I wanted something with more storage. So not only did he hang the rack, he built the wooden cupboard that the rack is attached to. He stained it to appear weathered because he knew I liked that trend.
Another wave of sadness hits as I find myself walking through the house, noticing all the areas that Chris had his hand in. Zoey’s bed that he put together, our kitchen table that we sat around and shared meals at because the two of us were determined to give Zoey family meals with the both of us. The living room furniture that he hauled home from the furniture outlet store I bought it from on clearance because I couldn’t afford anything else.
Even before Zoey came into our lives, it was the same. He was always there to offer a helping hand whether it was changing the oil in my car or mowing my lawn. I never asked him to do those things. He just saw those chores as something that needed to be done and did them. I thought it was because he felt bad that Beau wasn’t here but then I learned it was more than that. Chris’s feelings for me might not have been returned, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him in my own way.
Grateful that Zoey is spending the afternoon with Chris’s parents, I decide it’s time to go to his house. Zoey has clothes and toys in her bedroom there and I want to make sure the fridge is cleaned out. Max and Beau had already taken care of draining and taking down the pool, getting his utilities and bills switched, and whatever else needed to be done but there are things I need to do myself as well.
I don’t bother applying any makeup or even making myself look presentable. I know the second I walk into his house I’ll be a tearful mess anyway. Might as well be comfortable and not worrying about whether or not my mascara is running down my face. I slip on a pair of running shorts