Page 136 of Forever, Maybe
The twenty-something me couldn’t bear the thought of having a child. especially since I already—
Daniel stopped reading.
The world around him blurred into motion—people weaving past him on their way home, barely registering the man standing stock-still in the middle of the pavement, staring at the page in his hands.
God Almighty.
Did you ever really know someone at all?
His pulse pounded in his ears as he forced himself to read on.
The decision not to have children wasn’t one I made lightly. Even though I still believe it was the right choice, there have been moments—so many moments—when I’ve imagined the child we might have had. A boy or a girl. I picture them in my mind, wondering who they would have taken after. Would they have been artistic like me? Or maybe they would have shared their father’s entrepreneurial streak, growing up to be part of Stuffed!
I expect these thoughts haunt you too.
I wish I had told you the truth back then. I wish I had told you before now.
There is no justification for what happened with Jamie Curtice. I can’t excuse it. I could list the reasons I think it happened, but they wouldn’t be excuses, and I don’t expect you to understand them. Maybe I had my midlife crisis early. We met and married so young, didn’t we? Jamie’s attention flattered me. We’d both had too much to drink, and you were away so often back then, and that furious row had fired me up.
But none of that makes it right.
Jamie left work one week later. After that night, we never spoke again. I know that right now, you probably don’t trust a word I say, but I swear to you, Jamie Curtice was my one and only mistake.
And then I found out I was pregnant.
I was horrified. Guilt-stricken. The consultant I saw made his disapproval clear. I felt I deserved every word, and when the miscarriage happened, it seemed like punishment. Like nature’s way of telling me I was never meant to be a mother. It was an incredibly lonely time. I don’t say that to make you feel sorry for me—I say it because it was awful, and I lived with it alone. If I could go back and undo it all, I would.
Long-term relationships have their ups and downs, I know that. But this… this isn’t a blip. It isn’t some small irritation to be worked through. It’s huge. And I am so, so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. The knowledge of it appals me. If there was ever any justification for keeping those two secrets, it was this—I never wanted to hurt you.
You are a good man, Danny. A fine man. An exceptional one.
There’s so much I admire about you—your drive, your work ethic, your sense of responsibility, your loyalty. I have always found you attractive, and I never stopped. Now that you’re gone, I realize how much I took you for granted. Without you, the house is too quiet. It isn’t a home anymore.
I miss you. I miss you so much.
Please come back to me.
Please.
She had signed it simply, Nell. The first stroke of the N bold and certain, the loops of the l’s tight and neat.
How had it ended up in his old tax returns?
Daniel pictured the office layout. The 2012 tax return was stored in the back room, among the files rarely touched. A stray piece of paper couldn’t have just landed there by accident. Someone must have placed it there—but why?
He pressed the letter to his chest, inhaling sharply. Maybe the mystery didn’t matter. What mattered were the words. He read and re-read them, standing outside McKinlay, Hodgson & Brown’s offices, then again as he walked back toStuffed!’sheadquarters, the weight of Nell’s confession settling deeper with each step.
His phone buzzed. Trish.
He declined the call. She’d only be phoning to nag.
When he pushed open the office door, Holly barely looked up from theStuffed!website, typing away with her usual efficiency. If she was surprised that he hadn’t stayed away long, she didn’t show it. He’d tried to encourage her not to put in the same long hours he did, but she’d just shrug and say she liked being busy.
He slammed his office door behind him and exhaled, pressing his fingertips into his temples. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
His phone rang again. His mother.
He switched it off.
