Against All Odds
| Against All Odds | |
| McKeon, Angie | |
| Angie McKeon (2014) | |
| Tags: | Contemporary |
Against All Odds
Copyright © 2014 by Angie McKeon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover art by Regina Wamba/ Mae I design and photography.
Copyediting by Cassie Cox
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
https://www.facebook.com/Fictionalformats
I’m so cold. It’s the kind of cold that seeps into my bones and makes me feel as though I’m going to die. My body trembles from the drugs and sheer terror coursing through my veins.
Why is this happening to me?
What did I do to deserve this?
Please, God! I can’ t handle it.
I open my mouth to scream, to cry, to do something, but nothing comes out. I’m aware of doctors and nurses surrounding me. They’ve placed Kayla on my chest. She’s still warm from being pulled from my body, but she’s not moving.
She’s lying there… lifeless.
I’m in a state of disbelief as tears slide down my face. My world shatters when I look at my precious baby girl. She’s everything I’ve always wanted, always dreamed of.
Slowly, I run my fingers over her delicate lips; they’re so soft and small. An instant reminder of Cooper’s lips. He doesn’t have full and luscious lips like mine, but small ones that almost disappear when he smiles. As I run the tips of my fingers across her puffy cheeks and closed eyes, I try to memorize every last detail of her dainty face. She’s so beautiful it takes my breath away. Her hair reminds me of caramel; it’s light brown and silky to the touch. It looks like mine did when I was a baby. Her face is peaceful, and for a single moment, I’m so thankful she’s not in pain.
Looking at my little girl is a moment I’ve always dreamed of. I love her instantly, and I want to hold her forever. To breathe her into me. To never let her go. The realization that I’ll never hold my precious baby again sinks in, and I feel my stomach clench as pain rips through me
.
I’ll never get to see her smile, laugh, roll over, or take her first steps. I’ll miss it all.
How do I move past this?
Can I move past this?
As grief consumes me, my sobs become brutal. I feel as though I’m dying. Like my heart is burning up and turning to ash. I’ll never, ever be whole again.
I pick her up and cradle her against my body, wanting to feel her skin against mine. She still feels warm—soft and smooth, like velvet.
As I curl my arms around her, my tears drip onto her perfect head.
I feel an overwhelming urge to fix this, to bring her back. I don’t want to lose my sweet baby. Everything in my body, my soul is screaming to bring her back.
Desperately looking up at Cooper’s green eyes, I will him to fix this, to make it better and help me. Help her. He’s always been my rock, my glue, the person who makes everything better.
But all I see in his eyes is sadness, desperation, and a helplessness that I know is killing him as much as it is me.
He rubs his big, shaking hand gently over her tiny head. He looks as though he’s being tortured. Sobs rip through his body as he wraps his arms around me and our precious bundle while climbing into bed with us. I feel myself collapse against his chest as we sob over our loss.
There’s nothing we can do.
This is the end of a shattered dream.
Our spirits are slowly dying, and I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to heal.
Two years later…
A cool breeze blows, and the salty undercurrent is oddly calming. I clutch a cup of coffee to my chest and close my eyes, letting the sun warm my face.
I’m alone… completely alone.
That’s what my life’s become. I have no comfort or love anymore, at least not from who I need it most. Only moments, slivers of time when I feel as though I can breathe. Those little reprieves help me survive.
I use the serenity of my surroundings to prepare for the next couple of days. I’ll have to endure meetings, conferences, and fake smiles. I need to pretend my marriage isn’t broken. That my heart and soul aren’t lost, and I don’t feel like throwing away everything I’ve worked for over the last two years.
I’ve always been a dreamer. I was the kind of girl who fantasized about the man who’d charge into her life and sweep her off her feet. I always believed that I was in control of my destiny, and as long as I worked and lived right, everything was guaranteed.
I was wrong…
Life’s a fucked up state of fucked up. I learned that the hard way.
I’m sure I sound jaded, but it’s hard to pull myself together when everything I dreamed of died in less than twenty-four hours. Dreams have a way of shattering you when they don’t work out. The illusion of
hope
is a very dangerous thing. Once you’ve lost that, it’s like a black hole that sucks the very life from your soul, making you doubt your purpose.
Opening my eyes, I bring my coffee to my lips and take in the sun shimmering on the surface of the water. The hot, nutty liquid is another balm to the internal ache that never goes away. I need to pull myself together. Get my head out of my ass before I go into the biggest meeting of my life. I can’t let Cooper down. He’s worked so hard for this, and I need to make him proud.
