Page 1 of Gabriel & Skye

PROLOGUE

Five years ago…

I stand on the porch holding baby Trinity in my arms, watching the sun go down over the family distillery. The usually beautiful sky seems lost in the darkness, the same darkness that engulfs me since my wife left. I hardly notice the deep purple hues laced with gold and streams of burnt orange anymore. On an ordinary day it would be postcard perfect, but the last few weeks have been the worst of my life. I’ve been living in pure hell.

It’s been four weeks since my wife left us.

Tiffany and I had been having troubles for months, and not just since the birth of our daughter — who was a very welcome surprise — but it expanded to the better part of a year.

I don’t know how it started. We were in our early-twenties when we met and were together for eight years. Tiffany was always very career minded, the same as me. We had things we wanted to accomplish before kids. So, it shocked the both of us when she fell pregnant last year — neither of us were prepared or planned for it.

I work at my family’s distillery — Bassett Brothers Bourbon in Stoney Creek, Tennessee — so I always knew we could make it work because our house is situated on the family property, a short distance away. I knew I could be close when she needed me home.

Tiffany, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. The shock of being pregnant weighed heavily on her, and while I understood, I was also happy to be starting a family.

She’d been studying for years to become a doctor, working at Stoney Creek General Hospital in the E.R.

The crazy hours she worked and her studies took a huge toll on both of us. She worked hard though, and I was proud of her for having that direction in life.

She worked throughout the pregnancy, with my constant reassurance that we were going to be okay and our families would help when the baby came. But instead of growing closer as her due date was upon us, she started to withdraw. Trin wasn’t an easy pregnancy for her, and being our first baby, neither of us knew what to expect.

Tiffany was sick through the first half and battled with the pressures of work in between. I know she was spreading herself too thin, needing to slow down but refusing. Things took an inevitable nosedive between us…

I shift as Trinity moves in my arms. Sometimes I swear she can sense my emotions.

I stare into her blue eyes, just like mine, her rosy cheeks are the sweetest thing, and the flock of dark hair typical of a Bassett baby. I adore her.

My mom, Gayle, and Tiffany’s mother, Jill, tried to reassure me it was just nerves of being a first-time mom and everything would work out when the baby was born. And I had hoped that it would. In fact, I was confident about it.

When Trinity made her appearance late into the night on a Friday, I had hope. Seeing your baby born is an experience that changes you forever. It was fucking amazing. Tiffany and I both cried. Trin was so tiny and so damned precious. I couldn’t even remember the last time I cried. She was perfect. Everything was perfect.

“It all came together in the end,” she said to me. “She’s beautiful, Gabe.”

The relief I felt, after the months of turmoil over her erratic emotions, and forty-weeks of up and down symptoms, which were hell for her, was insurmountable.

“So beautiful,” I agreed. My heart had never felt so full.

I knew right then our little girl was a blessing. A blessing that I wasn’t even prepared for, though I’d had plenty of time to get used to the idea. The mere thought of being a dad made me so happy. Seeing her tiny little body curled up and that shock of dark hair on her perfect head made me weep like I’ve never wept before.

Holding her in my arms is still the most precious memory I will ever have. And I vowed from that point on I would protect her with my life.

Tiffany took maternity leave right after the birth, working up until the day she went into labor. I took the first few weeks off work so we could all settle in and enjoy that time together as a family. It wasn’t too long after we took Trinity home that those old feelings I had about Tiffany — when we first found out we were pregnant and her not seeming happy — crept back in.

The more I reveled in my newfound fatherhood, the more she seemed to retreat.

I was worried about postpartum depression, but she never wanted to talk about it.

The first time I had concerns before Tiffany left us was when Trin was a month old. She went to a planned conference in Nashville and spent the weekend there. During the few days she was away, she only sent a text but never called home, even though I tried to call her several times. She claimed afterwards she was just busy the whole time.

Then the arguments started shortly after. We were both tired, taking turns getting up in the night. If we’d had a rough night I could just go in later that day to work and let Tiffany get some sleep. Trin was a pretty good baby all in all, so I didn’t have too many complaints about her sleeping habits. One look at her sweet little face was enough to make me melt on the spot.

But Tiffany was adamant about returning to work earlier than we’d planned.

We hired Geraldine, a nanny that had come highly recommended; she was an ex-kindergarten teacher and a few years away from retiring. Our moms helped, but they understandably couldn’t be there all the time. My wife also didn't appreciate my decision to not have a full-time nanny.

Then the arguments got worse; though that was one of the few times she expressed how she was feeling. I felt helpless, not knowing how to help her.

“Tiff, you need to talk to me. Things haven’t been good in a while. What can I do?” I asked calmly.

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