Page 37 of Make Your Shot
Hey. T is going to Carson and Andi’s this afternoon, so you don’t need to come today.
Mia texts back in an instant and in the back of my mind, I remember her telling me how she used to hate mornings, but became a morning person over time.
Mia
Are you sure? Is everything okay?
Yes and yes.
She doesn’t respond again, so I get up from my seat, heading back into the house. I need to wake Tella up, but that can wait until after. I turn my phone on “do notdisturb” and head into my office, settling in front of my computer for my therapy appointment.
It’s not something that offers a magical fix, but somehow, it truly does help.
I’m fairly certain I blacked out during my therapy appointment, but I end the virtual visit feeling a little bit lighter as I head up to Tella’s room to wake her up. I pause by the side of the bed, my eyes traveling over the planes of her face. She looks so peaceful and innocent in her sleep. Her relaxed features look the same as Amelia’s. My heart hurts as I stare down at her, reaching to brush her hair away from her face.
“Hey, T, it’s time to wake up.”
She stirs, her eyelids popping open as she stretches her arms above her head. “Can we snuggle for a second?” she asks, her voice filled with sleep as she rubs at her eyes.
“Of course,” I murmur, climbing into her bed with her, pulling her into my arms. She nestles in against me. “You’re going to go hang out with Aunt Andi and Matteo while I’m at practice and then we’ll have cake for your mommy’s birthday.”
“Okay.” Tella takes a deep breath. “Do we get to have vanilla cake again?”
A tender smile lifts my lips. “It was her favorite.”
“I like vanilla too, but I don’t think it’s my favorite,” she says, a frown tugging down on her lips.
“That’s okay,” I assure her, pressing my lips to thetop of her head. “Just because it was her favorite doesn’t mean it has to be yours too.”
“Do you miss her?”
“I do,” I tell her, letting out a deep breath. I miss Amelia every damn day, but the pain has gotten lighter over the years. It doesn’t feel as visceral as it once did, which also fills me with guilt. What kind of a husband does that make me if I don’t miss my dead wife every second of every day?
What kind of husband does it make me if there are times where I don’t think about her anymore?
There was once a period in my life after she died that it was all I could think about. All I could focus on was the fact that she wasn’t here and I still was. That I had to continue on in life without her. As time grew on, those thoughts faded away. I began to move on in life with nothing left to hang onto but her memory.
And even now, as those memories become more and more distant, I find myself thinking of them less.Thinking of her less. Amelia’s gone, but the rest of us aren’t. We’re all still here.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” Tella says softly, rolling to sit up as she pats the top of my head. “You’ll get to see her again someday.”
Guilt prickles beneath my ribcage. There was a low point in those first few days after her death where I wanted to end it all, just for the possibility of getting to see her again. But then, this little girl—our little girl—brought me back to reality. She needs me today like she needed me then, and she’ll need me for the years to come.
I hate myself for ever entertaining the thought of leaving her alone.
“I know,” I agree, smiling at her as she climbs over me and gets out of bed. I slowly sit up, watching her as she disappears from the room, heading into the bathroom. “I’ll be downstairs, T,” I tell her when I finally get up and head out into the hallway.
My footsteps feel heavy as I head back down to the first floor, stopping when I reach the island in the kitchen. I pick up my phone. It’s still on “do not disturb” so I turn it off. As soon as I do, an unread message comes through, followed by another. My stomach immediately drops.
Mia
Did I do something wrong?
If it’s about the other day, that’s my fault and I’m sorry for that.
The muscle in my jaw tightens as I read over her messages two more times.
That was my fault, not yours.
