Page 26 of Manhattan Heart

“Ah, my girl.” I know what he’s doing by not saying much, instead he lays his lips to my hair and holds me close. I read his body language better than anyone. He’s treating me with kid gloves.

Probably knows my explosion is close to the surface.

God, I wish it was anger.

Anger is so much easier to deal with than absolute, bone shaking terror.

But I can’t lose it.Keep it together, India.

I breathe slowly. One of those stupid exercises my therapist taught me in times of crisis. I bet she didn’t fucking weigh in this crisis and how much breathing isn’t helping me.

But I do it anyway.

It’s a game I like to play called keeping my shit together.

I can’t allow emotions to rule me even as the flood my body like a tidal wave. I’ve done much better in recent years. Experience taught me how, but nothing in the past years has rocked me like learning my husband has a broken heart.

I can’t fall apart but there’s also no way I can keep my shit together.

Only, I have to. For him Ihave to.

“I would have preferred we be poor.”

Gray chuffs a rumbled laugh.

“I mean it, Gray. I would prefer you to be bankrupt than this.”

He just kisses my forehead.

“I need to know everything,” I say after a minute of silence. I lift my head from his shoulder, stroking hair from his forehead. “What they’ll do, how long it takes. How many days you’re in hospital. The after care. Everything. The risks and complications.”

It’s well after two am when he makes us climb back into bed.

I’m far from sleepy but I fake it so Gray will sleep.

A man with a broken heart needs more rest than my frantic brain does.

I think it’ll be too busy for the rest of the foreseeable future to be sleep again.

Only when I know he’s in deep REM do I slip out of his arms.

I check on the boys who are snoozing soundly and I go along to the spare bedroom, and into the walk-in closet almost on autopilot, my emotions firmly in place, closing the door behind me.

And that’s where I wilt to the carpeted floor, my knees collapse from under me and I let all my pain out in the pitch dark room.

Tears flood uncontrollably down my face and I sob into a towel, muffling the sound.

I have to let out my fear now, my heart shaking terror so I can be strong when Gray needs me to be.

This isn’t about me.

Only it is.

We are one person.

He’s told me often enough.

When I hurt, he hurts.

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