Page 99 of My Favorite Lost Cause
I’m ruining what I’ve got with Maren. I’m also ruining this dream she’s held for most of her life. And if I don’t fucking snap out of it, she’s going to leave.
I sit in my leather armchair in the dark, sipping a glass of whiskey. I’m not trying to get drunk, and I’m not trying to escape this situation the way I once would have. I’m just trying to calm down enough that I can fall asleep, because maybe with a good night’s rest, this all won’t seem as daunting as it does.
My mother would be so disappointed in me if she could see this. She’d tell me every year she spent with Zoe was richer because of it, that wishing those years away is like wishing you’d never had a fortune you eventually lost, or never viewing a glamorous destination because you couldn’t return to it.
I slide into bed beside Maren just as light is filtering through the blinds and watch her sleep. Hers is the one face I have always wanted to see on that pillow. The face I drank in whenever she wasn’t aware I was watching.
I don’t believe in ghosts or an afterlife. I also don’t pray. Butmy eyes fall closed, and I quietly beg someone—my mother? God? the universe?—to intercede.
Please don’t let me ruin this.
When I wake the sun is high, and the apartment is silent.
“Maren?” I call, and there’s no response. I walk into the living room, but it’s empty. Her purse is no longer on the foyer table.
My head whips left to right in a panic. Her carry-on is still in the bedroom, and I don’t see a note, but…she’s definitely gone.
I grab my phone where it’s charging and text her.
Hey, where are you?
She doesn’t reply. When I go to check her location, it’s no longer available to me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
What if she left? What if something happens to her, and I have no idea where she is? And she’s pregnant.Those are my fucking kids she’s carrying. She can’t just take off. I deserve to know that my children are safe.
Everything that happens to her is happening tothem. If she’s thirsty, they’re thirsty. If she’s tired, they might suffer with her. I just need to know…
I sink back into the same leather chair I was sulking in only a few hours before. “God, I’m such an idiot,” I say aloud, burying my face in my hands.
I’m not reluctant to be a father. I’m fucking petrified. And I’m petrified because I want them, and I want her, and there’s something superstitious inside of me that says it’s all too good, that everything you love will cause you pain and that I love too many things now.
But I can’t stop loving them, and I won’t wish them away because already these three people—one I’ve met, two I’ll knowsoon enough—have made my life a thousand times richer than it was a few months ago. Richer than it’s ever been.
I start to type.Maren, please tell me where the fuck you are. I’m so sorry, but I’m panicking and…
Before I can finish the message, there are keys in the door, and the dogs come racing toward me with Maren behind them. I charge across the room to where she stands, dropping her purse and keys on the table, and wrap my arms around her, my head buried in her hair.
“Turn on your fucking location sharing,” I say gruffly. My voice cracks, and she tries to step backward but I don’t allow it. After a moment, she relaxes against my chest.
“I just went to get the dogs,” she whispers. “Are you okay?”
I nod. I’m so much better than okay. And as I stand here, with her in my arms, I know thatthisis what my mother wanted for me—not some restored house, but a restoredson, one who was willing to love things again. One whose life could be just as rich as hers once was. “I love you,” I tell her. “And I love them.”
She pulls back, glancing up at me. “The dogs?”
“No,” I reply. “Okay, maybe them too. I love all five of you.”
I can feel her smile against my chest. “Good. We’re going to be around for a while.”
45
MAREN
The dinners my mother holds at the club used to be the highlight of my week. I thought I just loved being around my family, but…I haven’t missed them at all since I left for South Carolina. I think I just loved being around Charlie and couldn’t admit it to myself.
But even Charlie can’t savethisget-together.
