Page 82 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron
"He's hardly as big as a banana," Ana whispered, running a fingertip down the small, still face.
She kissed his forehead.
"I'd like for him to be cremated," she said.
Byron nodded, voice breaking. "Of course."
"Let’s name him Conley like we planned," Ana said later, as they drove home "A-B-C. He was our beginning in many ways."
***
They brought home a tiny urn.
Ana placed it on the mantle of the fireplace. Byron didn't move it.
Two weeks passed.
After spending almost one week entirely in bed, Ana slowly started getting out when Byron got ready to hit the gym in the morning. He insisted he needed her at practice and his games.
She still hadn't gone back to full-time work, but she attended Byron's matches. Said nothing, just sat in the crowd with her coat wrapped tight around her.
One morning over breakfast, Ana stirred her tea and said out of the blue, "Can we buy a farmhouse?"
Byron blinked. "What?"
"A farmhouse," she repeated. "With land. Somewhere quieter. Maybe in Wales."
He nodded. "Yeah. We can."
They toured a few places. One was too drafty, another too modern. But then came a place just outside Manchester. A renovated stone house on rolling land, with an ancient oak standing watch on a hill.
Ana touched Byron's sleeve and asked, "Do you think we can put a plaque by the tree?"
"You can have whatever you want," Byron said gently, his massive arm circling her visibly thinner shoulders.
They moved in two months later. The house was open plan with a large floor full- length window and wood-burning stone fireplaces.
The evening of the move, they sat at the breakfast nook, hands around warm mugs.
Ana said, "I think Conley hung around to see me through the surgery. It was he , more than anything, that made me want to fix my things."
Byron nodded, soft hazel eyes on her. "You heard what the doctor said. It likely would've ended in the first trimester. But he stayed."
Ana reached for his hand. "Maybe to say goodbye. And to hold my hand while I stopped being a coward."
He squeezed it gently.
There was silence as they sipped their coffee.
Then she said, softly, "Let's inaugurate the bedroom."
Byron paused, eyes searching hers, uncertain whether she meant whether this was about want or pain or needing to feel something other than grief. It had been a while since they had been intimate.
But she stood and held out her hand.
In the quiet light of their new bedroom, Ana undid the buttons of her blouse slowly. Her fingers trembled, and Byron reached out, brushing the fabric from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Hekissed the pale scar at the base of her neck, then her collarbone, then lower, reverently.
His own shirt followed, peeled away and tossed aside. Her hands were at his waist now, slipping beneath the band of his trousers, tugging them down with silent insistence. They undressed each other slowly until they were skin to skin after what felt like a lifetime of distance.
