Page 40 of Better as It

We sit in silence.

Eventually, her hand finds mine.

“I’m scared for you,” she whispers.

I nod. “Me too.”

And that’s the truest thing I’ve said in weeks.

TWELVE

DIA

"Be like a bear: strong enough to stand alone, yet wise enough to work together." — Unknown

The cemetery is quiet.

It always is.

Even when the wind cuts across the grass or birds cry out in the trees, the noise doesn’t reach this place. Not really.

I kneel beside Clutch’s new permanent headstone, fingers brushing over his name like I need the stone to feel my apology.

Benjamin Henderson.

Son. Loved deeply. Missed eternally.

There’s no mention of me here, but I don’t need it. He’s in me. Always has been.

I sit cross-legged beside the grave, hands resting on my belly, still small, still barely visible, but there. I wonder when my belly will pop out.

“I guess I should start with the obvious,” I murmur. “I’m pregnant.”

The words come easier than I expect. Maybe because I’ve said them out loud a dozen times by now. Maybe because I know, wherever he is, he probably already knows.

“It’s yours.” My voice wavers. “But for a moment, I was worried it wasn’t. The timeline makes it yours. Justin’s treatment makes him sterile so I guess it’s time to really wrap my head around it. Benji, we’re having a baby.”

The truth hangs in the air. Heavy. Unforgiving.

“I’m sorry about things with Justin. It’s not planned. I obviously didn’t expect to see him and in time have all these feelings again. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t actually get closure the first time. I wasn’t ready. For any of this. For you leaving. For someone else seeing me when I didn’t even know if I could look at myself.”

I exhale, slow. “Justin’s been, well, everything. Kind. Strong. He doesn’t flinch when I cry or when I can’t find the words. He listens. He sends soup and doesn’t ask questions and shows up when I don’t even know I need someone.”

I press my palm flat against my chest. “I think I’m falling for him. I think maybe I already have. Or maybe I never stopped loving him.”

The tears start, and I don’t fight them.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to love him when I’m still stitched together by the memory of you.”

I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie.

“I feel like I taint your memory by having these feelings for him. But then this part inside me feels like you knew and you always will know, he had me first.”

I blow out a breath.

“Part of me, the part that knows you, thinks you would want me to be with someone who will support me and you would want me and your baby surrounded by the familiar.”

“And now he’s sick. Cancer. Gallbladder. He’s keeping it from the club, from most people. And I’m trying to be strong, but I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’m carrying the weight of you, the baby, and the fear that he might not make it either. How much loss can I take?”

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