Page 62 of Baby Maker

It's safer there.

The ride back is silent, save for the quiet jazz lilting from the speakers. Good to his word, Keegan drops me home, delivering me safely to my door. He grasps my hand, giving it a squeeze. "I love you, Calliope, and I hate that you're hurting. I'll give you space, if that's what you want, and I hope you find your way back to me." He swallows, and I notice his eyes are glassy. "For what it's worth, last night was perfect. For me, at least."

He waits until I'm safely inside to drive away, and I collapse against the doorframe in a sobbing heap. For the first time since Nigel passed, I feel utterly alone.

The next morning, I awaken in a crumpled pile on the floor. I pull myself to standing, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the windows as I gaze around the house.

This place never truly felt like home. It wasn't my choice, but Nigel fell in love with the colonial, and I couldn't say no to his endearing smile. But now that he's gone, I feel a kinship to every room. Every stupid creaking floorboard that used to drive me crazy now makes me smile, remembering his steps moving across them.

Each room has become a sanctuary of sorts, with all manner of knickknacks strewn about, bringing me peace when the aching becomes too much to bear.

All but one room.

My eyes settle on the locked door at the end of the hallway.

Nigel's office.

I don't go in there. I had to, immediately after his death, to collect the paperwork for his estate. But after that was settled, I locked the door and had no desire to set foot over the threshold. That was his space, never mine, and for some reason, I feel like I'm trespassing.

Oh, the myriad of emotions in my brain. I'd give any psychiatrist a run for their money.

With a groan, I roll my shoulders. I want to go back to bed. Sleep for the next several days. Weeks. Months.

I opt for a shower, some coffee, and a hefty dose of aspirin.

I pad into the kitchen, flipping on the coffeemaker, as my gaze catches the bouquet of lilacs Keegan brought me the other day. All because it reminded me of my childhood home in England.

I finger the petals, tears rolling down my face as my heart and head do battle with one another.

How am I supposed to do this? I love Nigel. Always have and always will.

But I love Keegan, too.

What if my heart isn't built to love more than one man? Am I destined to spend the rest of my years alone, pining for what might have been?

Is that the best I have to hope for with the remainder of this life?

* * *

"Spill it, Calli."Bridget's eyes flash a warning at me. Do not feed her a line of bullshit.

I hate how well she knows me.

"It was beautiful. Terrible. Agonizing. Pick your descriptor."

"Did you and Keegan have a fight?"

I shake my head, unable to rid myself of the pounding in my brain. Domino is thrilled I'm home, even though my friends knew something was up when I asked them to watch her for a few additional days.

I needed time.

For what, I do not know. Time to slowly lose the last vestiges of my sanity, I suppose. But as the days passed, it wasn't Nigel I missed.

It was Keegan.

Now, it's been five days since he dropped me on my doorstep, and the pain is acute.

It's ironic. I used to find a reprieve from the pain when I surrounded myself with Nigel's belongings. Not anymore.

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