Beautiful Sacrifice (31 page)

I waited. The agony in his eyes made me want to look away.

“It was grief, Falyn. I haven’t felt it since I was a kid, but I remember that helpless feeling when you lose someone. No matter how much you love someone, you can’t bring them back. No matter how much you scream or drink or beg or pray … a hole was created when they left. It burns and rots you from the inside out until you stop crying for the pain to stop and start accepting it as the way life will be.”

I sucked in a breath, horrified.

“I’m not saying I don’t deserve to be left. But I’ll do anything if you’ll just give me a chance to prove myself to you. Thomas said something to me in Eakins about not sleeping with someone to dull the pain. It’s no excuse, but it was a mistake, and I’ll learn from it.”

I listened to his words and then replayed them in my mind. “I have conditions,” I blurted out.

“Name them,” he said without hesitation.

“You have to get tested.”

“Already scheduled.”

“I need time. I can’t pretend that nothing happened.”

“Understandable.”

“I’ll need patience from you if and when I have a moment of jealousy and when it takes me a little bit to remember that it was me who set this all in motion and that it’s mostly my fault.”

Taylor spoke his words slowly, each one emphasized, “This is not your fault. We both fucked up. We both regret it.”

“That’s about the only thing I know right now,” I said.

“No. You know we love each other. And because of that, I know things will get better.”

When I nodded, Taylor sat back in his seat, only a bit more relaxed than before. Either he didn’t believe his own words, or he thought I didn’t. He slid his fingers between mine, and we waited in another awkward silence until our flight was called.

“I can’t do this.”

I heard him say the words, but thirteen weeks of work and forgiveness wouldn’t allow me to believe it. I sat on a chair in his Colorado Springs hotel room, the beige carpet and drapes mirroring my blank expression.

Taylor sat on the bed with his head in his hands. He wore only a white towel around his waist, his skin still glistening from the shower.

“You checked in two days ago,” I said.

He nodded.

“You’re going to give up now?” I asked.

He looked up at me, frustration in his eyes. I knew then that I’d lost him. Gone was the longing, the guilt, and the patience.

I stood up, crossing my arms. “What happened to things getting better? To making this work? To forgiveness and loving each other?”

He didn’t answer.

“You love me,” I said.

“More than I could ever explain to you.”

“Then I don’t understand!” I said, my volume surprising both of us. My eyes filled with tears. “I’ve worked on this. I’ve spent hours and weekends trying to make things better, working it out in my own head that you’ve had your hands … and other things … on another woman. I’m here, taking a chance on everything, ignoring the images in my mind that haunt me every single time we’re in bed. And you’re just going to quit on me? No,” I said, shaking my head, realizing that I was pacing but not stopping myself. “You can’t just say it’s over. It’s not over.”

“I didn’t,” he said, amused. “But this … this is good. I’m liking this.”

I stood in the middle of the room, narrowing my eyes at him. “Then what were you talking about?”

He sighed. “I haven’t brought up the commute because … well … we were dealing with bigger things, and I was chickenshit.” He stood up, cupping my shoulders. “But I still want that, everything we talked about before. I can’t keep living apart. I want to at least be in the same city.”

I fell to the bed, holding my middle. “I thought you were ending it.”

He knelt in front of me. “Fuck no. After the weeks I’ve been killing myself, trying to make it up to you?”

I shot him a dubious look. “Killing yourself?”

He interlocked his fingers behind the small of my back, smiling. “I didn’t say it wasn’t enjoyable.”

He kissed my cheek, tender and sweet. I leaned into his lips, giggling.

The landline rang, and after a moment of confusion, Taylor hopped up and held the receiver to his ear. “Hello? Yeah, that’s me. Who?” When recognition lit his eyes, all the color drained from his face. “I’ll, um … I’ll be right down.” He hung up the phone.

“Everything all right?” I asked.

“The desk clerk said that a woman is waiting for me in the lounge. Alyssa Davies.”

I shrugged and shook my head, having no recollection of the name.

“It’s the woman I … from San Diego.”

“She’s
here
?” I asked, standing.

“I guess so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, baby.”

“You were tested,” I said, trying not to show the intense panic igniting inside of me.

“Yeah … no, that can’t be it. That’s not it.”

My heart pounded against my rib cage, making the vessels in my head throb and my fingers tremble.

Taylor’s worry vanished, and a contrived smile softened his face. “C’mon. We’ll find out together.”

I took his outreached hand and grabbed my purse before following Taylor into the hall. We took the elevator to the first floor, and then we found the lounge. Taylor didn’t let go of my hand as he paused when he saw a beautiful woman sitting alone at one of the booths along the wall.

He tugged me forward and sat down, scooting across the bench. I sat next to him, looking at the last woman I’d ever expected to meet face-to-face.

“I know you’re surprised to see me,” she said. “I apologize for not calling first.” She glanced at me, blinking and looking down at her folded hands on the table. “But what I have to say needed to be said in person.”

Taylor’s hand squeezed mine. I wasn’t sure he even knew he was doing it.

“Does she …” Alyssa trailed off.

Taylor nodded. “This is my girlfriend, Falyn. She knows who you are and what happened.”

“Well, she doesn’t know this,” Alyssa said, raising her eyebrows. She pulled a folded paper that looked like it had been wadded up a few times and pushed it across the table to Taylor.

He opened it, read it, and set it down in front of him. I waited, staring at the side of his face. His eyes had lost focus. He was so still that I wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.

I had a few ideas about what the paper said, none of them I wanted to be true.

“Pregnant?” Taylor said, swallowing.

All the air was knocked out of me, and my eyes instantly glossed over.

Alyssa sighed. “Fifteen weeks tomorrow. I scheduled an abortion for Thursday.”

“You … do you want me to go with you?” Taylor asked.

Alyssa breathed a laugh, unimpressed. “No. I canceled it.”

“So …” Taylor began. “You’re keeping it.”

“No.”

I rubbed my forehead and then looked down, trying not to scream. This wasn’t happening to us, to that baby.

“You’re giving it up?” Taylor asked.

“That depends,” Alyssa said, putting the paper back into her purse. Her cool demeanor was maddening. “I’m not in the position to raise it. Are you?”

Taylor touched his chest. “You’re asking me if I want to keep it.”

She folded her hands again. “I’m due December seventh. Shortly after, I have a rather large case that will begin court proceedings. I’m prepared to carry to term and then sign over rights, as I would with a typical adoption.”

She’s beautiful, confident, pregnant with Taylor’s baby, and a lawyer? Could she surpass me in any more ways?

“Stop,” I said. “You need to think about what you’re doing.”

She glared at me. “Excuse me. I respect that you’re here for Taylor, but I’m not asking for your opinion.”

“I understand that,” I said. “But I’ve been in your position. This is not a business transaction. It’s a baby.”

“You’ve—”

“Given up a child, yes. It’s not something that ever goes away. Just … I guess I’m hoping that you make sure it’s truly what you want before you decide.”

She blinked, for the first time seeing both of us, and then she trained her eyes on Taylor. “I’m leaving it up to you. If you choose to also relinquish your rights, I’ll begin the process of looking for candidates for the adoption. A few agencies in San Diego have been recommended to me.”

“If you want to keep the baby,” I said, “I know Taylor will help you.”

He nodded. He seemed a million miles away.

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Alyssa said, “but I appreciate the offer.”

I stood up.

Taylor reached for me. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Home.”

“Just … give me a second. I’ll drive you.”

My next words caught in my throat. “You should stay. You two have a lot to talk about.”

Taylor began to stand, but I touched his shoulder.

“This decision has nothing to do with me, Taylor. And it’s important.”

Taylor stared at me, taking deep breaths. “What do you mean, it has nothing to do with you?”

“I mean, it’s your decision to make.”

He shifted in his seat. “Just remember what you said to me not ten minutes ago.”

“I remember. I remember a lot of things. Stay here. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I set down the phone he’d given me on the table and then left Taylor and Alyssa behind.

“Falyn!” he called after me.

But I ignored him.

Out of the lounge, I walked across the lobby, passing Dalton on the way.

“Hey, Falyn. You headin’ out?” he asked.

I smiled politely and continued through the doors, beginning my trek to downtown. I expected a long walk, but every step I took became more difficult as I fought the urge to sob.

But I would not cry. So many times I’d said—to myself and to Taylor—that we had met for a reason. I’d thought it was so that I could have closure with my past, but sad stories had a funny way of ending the way they’d begun, and the irony of our situation wasn’t lost on me. I had given up my child and couldn’t have more. Taylor was going to stay with me anyway, and by a snowball of events that had started with me, Taylor would have a child of his own after all.

The streetlights were buzzing, flickering as they reacted to the dim light. Stars were beginning to poke through the twilight sky, and I still had a long way to go. The cars whizzed by, a few full of kids, blaring music and honking as they passed, and I walked alone with the reality of what Alyssa’s pregnancy meant sinking in with every step.

Summer was in full swing, and it hadn’t rained in weeks. The world was still green but dry. The intermittent wildfires had brought Taylor’s crew to the area.

The walk to downtown took longer than I’d thought, and I was out of shape. A dark Mercedes G-Wagon slowed next to me, and the tinted passenger window rolled down, revealing Blaire behind the wheel and no one else in the car. I began to walk again, but she honked.

“Falyn?” she called. “Where are you headed, dear?”

I sighed. “No one can hear you.”

“Are you going home?”

“Yes.”

“Please let me drive you. We don’t have to talk.”

I looked down the road and then back at Blaire. “Not a word?”

She shook her head.

As much as I didn’t want to get in that SUV, my feet were already hurting, and all I wanted was to crawl into my bed and cry. I opened the door and got in.

A victorious smile lit Blaire’s face, and she pulled away from the curb.

After just a quarter of a mile, Blaire sighed. “Your father hasn’t been well. I don’t think this campaign is good for him.”

I didn’t respond.

She pressed her lips together. “The car is still parked in the garage at the house. Your father drives it sometimes to keep everything in order. Still changes the oil. We would like you to have it back.”

“No.”

“It’s dangerous to walk around alone in the dark.”

“I rarely venture out,” I said simply.

“But on the off chance that you do …”

“You said we didn’t have to talk.”

Blaire parked in one of the many empty spots in front of the Bucksaw. “You have to come home, Falyn—or at least let us move you into an apartment and your father can get you a decent job.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” she snapped.

“It’s always about appearances, isn’t it? You couldn’t care less about me.”

“That’s not true. I’m appalled that you live up there in that filth,” she said, looking up at the café’s second floor.

“Don’t you see where keeping up appearances has gotten our family? Your husband is sick. Your daughter wants nothing to do with you. And for what?”

“Because it’s important!” she hissed, her hair swaying when she moved her head.

“To you. It’s only important to you. I’m not obligated to live a life I hate so that you can feel important.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What is wrong with our way of life? Because I want you to go to school? Because I want you to live somewhere that doesn’t need to be condemned?”

“When you say it that way, it sounds wonderful. But you can’t keep omitting the ugly parts. You can’t just erase a pregnancy. You can’t hide a baby. You can’t pretend your daughter isn’t a waitress who doesn’t want to be a doctor. Our life is not a highlight reel. It’s time you stopped pretending it was.”