“Then why —” Liv bit her lip, not finishing the question out loud, but her eyes said the rest for her.
I felt that familiar ache throbbing in my chest. “Then why leave him?”
Liv nodded.
Glancing around at their faces I knew they were trying to understand – and to a certain extent did understand – what I was feeling, but there was also sympathy for Marco in those expressions. “It hurt to find out he not only didn’t look me up when he returned but that he got some other girl pregnant and he was there for her. I know it doesn’t make sense to be mad at him for a situation he wasn’t even aware of but… I can’t help feeling betrayed anyway. I keep thinking if he hadn’t left me that night… if he hadn’t left me I might have been the girl he stuck around for. But I wasn’t. Isn’t the man you love supposed to stick around for you, to see you through the worst things that can ever happen to you?”
All three exchanged glances, looks that told me they got me because they had men who’d stuck around.
“The one time you needed him he wasn’t there.” Jo’s voice echoed quietly into the room. “But, Hannah… you know Marco’s capable of being that guy.”
I was silent because the reason I was in such a confused state was that I did know Marco was capable of being that guy. He’d been trying to be that guy for the last three months. Sensing my quandary, Ellie leaned forward. “Hannah, we have the unfortunate commonality of having loved someone who took their merry time getting over their own issues to finally be with us.” She scooted closer to me on the couch and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I snuggled into her as she continued. “So I think you know I get you, and that what I’m going to say comes from a place of experience and the desire for my wee sister to find the happiness she deserves.”
I nodded carefully, expectantly.
“You just said it yourself, so deep down I know you know that it wasn’t Marco’s fault he wasn’t there for you. Yeah, he definitely shouldn’t have left you alone that night, but you don’t know what he would have done if his grandfather hadn’t had a heart attack. He would have stayed in Scotland, but you have no idea how things might have worked out between you. I do know that the Hannah back then didn’t take no for an answer, so I have a sneaking suspicion you would have gotten your way. But that’s not what happened, and as rubbish as it is, Marco had a reason for leaving Scotland. And as much as you don’t like his explanation for not looking you up upon his return, frankly I can’t be annoyed at a man who stayed away because he thought my smart, funny, beautiful, strong sister was too good for him. I definitely can’t be annoyed at him for pulling his head out of his issues and taking time to prove to you he wanted to be with you. He sounds like a good dad, and I’ve witnessed him with you – he treats you like you’re the most precious thing on the planet. Adam and Braden were pissed off that you broke up with him, because to them, if you had to be with someone, they were happy it was someone like Marco. He was straightforward and he seemed very protective of you. We all liked that about him, Hannah.”
“Els,” I whispered, almost pleading. I didn’t need to hear this. It just confused me more.
“But…” Ellie sighed. “Sometimes we just feel what we feel. It doesn’t matter what we know is logical, our emotions usually rule. However, I don’t think Marco isn’t ‘the one’ because he left and he wasn’t there for everything that happened.” She nodded to Liv and Joss. “I doubt these guys do either.”
Liv and Joss confirmed this by giving me small sympathetic smiles while shaking their heads.
“Hannah, if you don’t think he’s the one, then he’s not. But ask yourself… why did you lie to your family to protect him? Why did you race after Cole to stop him from attacking Marco? Why does it matter if you’re not in love with him?”
Turmoil. Total turmoil. There was no escaping it. Although Ellie’s questions had opened doors I’d been trying to keep tightly closed since breaking up with Marco, I hugged my sister hard because at least I was no longer carrying the weight of the truth on my shoulders alone. There was a simple relief in that.
The girls were gone, returned to their kids and their husbands, but I knew that they were worried about me. I tried to reassure them as they hugged me before leaving that I was okay, but they gave me these looks that showed they doubted me. I couldn’t really blame them. After all, I’d just provided them with proof that I didn’t always tell them the truth when it came to what was going on with me emotionally.
The quiet wasn’t good. I tried watching TV, reading a book, but my mind kept wandering and I was completely restless. I felt like I was preparing for something really nerve-racking – I was all jittery and my heart was racing, like I had too much adrenaline flowing through my body.
When my phone rang just before nine o’ clock, I had to wonder if my body had a sixth sense.
Caller ID told me it was Marco.
I could have ignored it, but we both deserved better than that.
“Hi,” I answered softly, curling up into a ball on the couch, the phone pressed tight to my ear.
“Hey.”
I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice in my ear.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I do and I don’t,” he replied. “I would have come over, but I didn’t know if you’d answer the door or not.”
“I don’t know if I would have either,” I answered honestly.
“Yeah.” He exhaled and it sounded a little shaky. “Hannah, I get it, but I have to see you. Can we please meet? We need to talk about all this.”
“I don’t know.”
“Baby, this can’t be it.” His voice lowered, deepened. “We need a chance to work all this out.”
His endearment reached out, its hook catching and tugging painfully on my heart. It took me a moment to gather myself and say, “I just need time.”
“And after everything you’ve been through you deserve whatever you need, but I’m afraid if I give you that time all you’re going to do is use it to keep us apart.” At my continued silence, Marco said softly, “I’ll give you time. But not a lot of it. I’ve lost you twice now, and I’m not losing you again.”
I’ve lost you twice now, and I’m not losing you again.
I’ve lost you twice now, and I’m not losing you again.
I’ve lost you —
I shook my head, trying to shake Marco’s last words to me the night before. They kept playing on repeat.
It was easier to switch the memory off while I was teaching, but I had only a half day of classes, and although I would usually use the rest of that day for marking and lesson planning, I skipped out of work to head to Cole’s place.
He looked like shit.
When he opened his front door to me, I winced, taking in his black eye, pale skin, and guilty expression. Without saying a word, I stepped over the threshold and put my arms around him, hugging him tight.
“You’re not mad?” Cole asked in surprise as he held me close.
I kissed his cheek and pulled gently out of his embrace. “For you having my back? No. For the bruise on my forehead… maybe.” I smiled, a sad smile but a smile nonetheless, so he’d know I was teasing. “I’m not mad. You acted impulsively, but your heart was in the right place.”
Cole blew out a breath between his lips. “I’ve got to say that’s a relief. I was expecting you to be so pissed off at me for letting the cat out of the bag with Marco.”
“It wasn’t fun,” I admitted. “But it was probably about time. I actually feel a lot better now that everyone knows the truth.”
“I did good then?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t take it that far. You definitely owe me coffee at least.”
He threw me a crooked grin and started walking toward his kitchen. I followed him, raising my eyebrow at the sheet of paper that had been pinned to his hallway wall. It had the words TOMATOES ARE NOT A FRUIT printed across it.
“I thought tomatoes were a fruit.”
“What?” Cole glanced back at me, saw me pointing to the homemade “poster,” and shook his head in despair. “Don’t even ask. Bigsie is on his own wee planet.”
“I don’t understand why he feels strongly enough about tomatoes to print a poster about it.”
“And pin it to our wall. There goes a percentage of our deposit.”
“Cole, you need to get a new roommate, or a new flat.”
“Rent’s cheap.” He shrugged. “Starving artist/poor student and all that.”
Right. Some of us didn’t have a wealthy brother and sister to buy us a flat. I felt a pang of guilt that I didn’t have to struggle like so many people my age.
Cole’s eyes narrowed on me as he pulled a couple of mugs out of one of the dingy cupboards in his dingy kitchen. “What’s with the guilty expression?”
“Nothing’s with it. I’m just a bit of mess right now.”
His features softened with understanding. “If you need to —”
I didn’t know what Cole was going to say and I never would because at that exact moment we both got a text message from Liv.
Jo’s gone into labor!
We both looked up from our phones, eyes widened, and I knew Cole’s was the same message because he whispered, “Fuck.”
He flew into action. In less than a minute he’d thrown on his boots and coat, grabbed his keys, grabbed my hand, and hauled me out of his flat. We got into his little rust bucket of a Fiat, which was older than Beth, and hurtled toward the hospital.
Nine hours later, Jo gave birth to Annabelle Walker MacCabe, a gorgeous seven-pound baby girl. The entire time I sat in the waiting room with my family, my mind was on Jo and Cam and their new family. When I met Annabelle, or Belle, as we were already calling her, she was all I could think about, and when I kissed an exhausted Jo good night, hugged my family, and returned home to my flat to get some rest, my mind was still on them all.
There was a whisper in the back of my thoughts, a whisper too loud to ignore, that wished Marco had been there to enjoy the moment, to be a part of my family. He’d missed Ellie giving birth to Bray and now Jo to Belle.
There was a part of me that didn’t think that felt right.
That part scared the hell out of me.
CHAPTER 22
A little under a week later I was heading out of my flat. It was a Saturday, the ground icy where the snowfall of the past few days had melted with the rain and then frozen over with the newly falling temperatures. I sidestepped a large patch of ice on my porch and started to make my way down the steps.
I was excited to be spending the day with Jo, Ellie, Belle, and Bray and had a bag filled with goodies for both children and mothers.
“Hannah Nichols?”
I glanced up at the question, stopping on the last step of the front stoop to stare at the pretty brunette who stood a few feet from me on the pavement.
My eyes washed over her, wondering why she looked so familiar. “Yes?”
The young woman took a few steps forward, seeming anxious, and that’s when I remembered where I’d seen her: the photograph of Marco and his son at the German Market. The pretty brunette at his side. Leah. The mother of his son.
My heart suddenly took off at a gallop.
“I’m Leah McKinley. I’m Dylan’s mum.”
Eyeing her warily, I replied, “I know who you are.”
She stared at me. “You’re just like he described.”
I frowned in response. “What are you doing here?”
Her expression tightened. “I’m here because I care about Marco. And Marco’s a mess right now.”
I couldn’t ignore the guilt and pain that knowledge caused me. Since we’d last spoken on the phone, Marco had given me time. But he’d been honest when he said he’d give me time but not a lot of it. When five days passed and I didn’t contact him, he called me. Having already told him I needed space, I didn’t answer.
I didn’t answer when he called me three times after that.
I couldn’t answer, because my fear had made up my mind for me about us, and I didn’t know how to tell him.
“Look, he didn’t go into the details, but he explained that something bad happened to you years ago when he left and now he’s blaming himself.” She crossed her arms over her chest, appearing annoyed. “I knew Marco at school. Not well. But I knew him. I knew he was quiet and seemed a bit pissed off with the world. I watched him change when he became a dad. He got, I don’t know, like, sure of himself. And happy. Yet, still, I’ve never seen him as happy as he was when he was seeing you.” She squinted against the winter sun. “He told me all about you, you know. Before. When I was pregnant with Dylan we became good friends and he talked about you. I was even a wee bit jealous of the way he saw you – like you were so much better than every other girl on the planet. I told him countless times that he was good enough for anyone, that he should try to get in touch with you again, but he wouldn’t do it. That really f**ked me off – that he thought he wasn’t good enough. Now I’m even more pissed off because with you not forgiving him or giving him the time of day, it makes him think he is to blame for whatever shit went down with you. He’s back to thinking he’s not good enough. I know him. I know he would never hurt anyone deliberately, so I know whatever happened to you isn’t his fault. It would be nice if you’d let him know that, too.”