Eminent Love (26 page)

I knew things would be hard for my parents and Drea, but I worried most about Creed. He’d more than likely never allow himself to love another woman with half as much intensity as he’d loved me. The thought left behind a heavy sadness, which had settled deep within my soul. More than anyone, he deserved to be loved wholeheartedly. I never wanted him to live alone, or hold back from freely offering his heart to another. He had so much to give, and it would be an injustice to keep it to himself. But I knew Creed, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy for him. I had faith he’d find someone, learn to love again. I only wished he’d understand he wouldn’t have to let go of his love for me to build a new circle with someone else.

The clenching ache in my stomach grew more uncomfortable, despite the medication I was on to lessen it. The burning pain, which had become embedded into my bones, worsened. The invisible weight on my chest grew heavier, yet my head became lighter than ever before. Still, I couldn’t move. Alarms began to sound, and my panic increased. I tried to breathe harder and deeper, even though it did no good; no matter how hard I fought, my respirations remained slow and shallow.

The hand holding mine tightened. His palm was so hot, but I wondered if it might’ve been because I was so cold. Either way, it heated me in the best way possible. The blazing fire rolling through my body simmered into leftover embers. The harsh alarms faded into the background. The only sound available to me was his voice. The slow rumble of his tone as he whispered into my ear, “I love you, Yen.” The soft heat of his breath fanned across the side of my face, cloaking me in his warmth.

His love.

Him.

“I love you, too, Yang.”

I knew he couldn’t hear me, my brain not able to get my mouth to work enough to allow the words to escape. But when he swiped his thumb over the top of my hand, I knew his heart had heard me. His soul heard mine. Because no matter where I am, we will be one. We will always be together.

The pain went away.

The chills vanished.

Sounds faded into the distance.

The last sensation I felt was the slow stroke of his finger over my hand.

I had to leave everything behind. But I’d take the love with me.

Because eminent love never dies.

I
glanced
down at my daughter in my arms. Blue eyes, the color of her mother’s, widened as she attempted to focus on my face. I studied her tiny nose and allowed my mind to drift to Layne. The loss of her had lessened, but her image never faded. And now I have a beautiful, happy, and healthy daughter who resembled her so much, no one would ever forget what she’d looked like.

Layne would always be the love of my life, but she had been right when she said it was possible to love another. Because I did. And now with my daughter in my arms, I found myself loving one more, stronger than I ever thought possible. She’d said each love is different, and I now understand her meaning.

Mady’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier the longer I swayed with her. When they finally closed, even after I stopped moving, I gently lowered her to the mattress in the crib, careful not to disturb her. Her two o’clock feedings were our time alone, offering me the chance to bond with her. What I never admitted to, was the time had also allowed me to reflect on things I hadn’t typically thought about during the hustle of the day.

As I stood in front of the crib, I glanced across at the eagle feather encased in a circular frame on the wall above Mady. It served as a reminder of Layne looking down on us, guarding us with her wings. After walking into her hospital room the day I’d arrived in California, I had forgotten all about it, and didn’t find it again until I’d made it back to North Carolina a week later. I’d remembered what the man who’d given it to me had said about eagles, how they flew close to the heavens. And I knew it was symbolic.

The creaking of the door caught my attention, but I didn’t turn around. The soft steps of my wife’s feet on the carpet behind me grew closer as she made her way to me. When her arms wrapped around my waist, her cheek settling into her favorite spot between my shoulder blades, I finally calmed. I hadn’t even known how tense I was until my entire body relaxed by her healing touch.

“Are you thinking about her?” she asked softly, careful to not wake Mady.

“Yeah.” It was barely a whisper, the truth almost choking me.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

I lightly stroked her fingers as she pressed her palms to my chest, covering my back with the front of her body. It reminded me of something…Layne had fit so well next to me, and for the longest time, I couldn’t have imagined anyone else fitting as well as she had. But my wife had a way of constantly proving my old beliefs wrong, proving she could fit, only in a different way. Just as close, but
different
. “Nothing in particular.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

I pulled her hands away and turned until we faced one another, the butterfly nightlight in the room illuminating her delicate, familiar features. Her eyes were wide, no color visible in the dim room, but I’d recognize her hesitation in the pitch black. “You can tell me anything.”

“Sometimes I come in here and wonder if she’s mad at me.”

I ran my fingers through her hair and pulled her closer, finding her lips with mine. I knew as soon as I pulled away, she’d relax some. The trembling of her breath calmed, her shoulders fell limp, and her hold on my forearms grew slack. “Why would she be mad at you?”

“Because you love me, too.”

After Layne had died, I couldn’t imagine being with anyone. No one would understand how deeply I’d loved Layne. And I didn’t care for jealousy or hurt feelings if I could never love another with as much intensity as I’d loved her. People say all the time how much they understand, but eventually, they grow tired of it or end up feeling as if they somehow came second in your heart.

I found that out all too well about three years ago. I’d started dating a woman from my office. The relationship ended after four months when she grew resentful over my inability to take Layne’s picture off my desk. I’d offered a compromise and told her I’d add hers and keep both next to my computer screen, yet it didn’t seem to be enough. Drea had laughed at me, calling me insensitive and a few other choice words, while in the same breath, following it up with saying she probably would’ve done the same.

While at the hospital, I’d managed to pack up most of Layne’s belongings, so after she had died, there wasn’t a lot left to do. Except Drea had decided she no longer wanted to be there alone, and had asked me to stay and help her pack her stuff as well. Truth be told, I wasn’t ready to walk away from my only connection to Layne, so I’d agreed. A week later, with movers following behind us, we drove back to North Carolina. Drea had moved in with her parents while she found a job, and then after a month, had asked to rent out the spare room at my place. It was an easy decision. Drea had always been my friend, and having her close became comforting.

At first, her presence gave me a sense Layne was there, which had made mourning her loss slightly easier. Over time, our friendship had grown stronger, more solid than it had ever been before. She’d helped me through the troubles of dating again after losing Layne, and I’d made the guys she’d try to bring home uncomfortable. She’d gotten mad at me a few times when they were guys she really liked, but in the end, no one was good enough for her. When I told her that, she accused me of confusing her with her sister. She’d gone to bed and refused to speak to me for the rest of the night.

The space had given me plenty of time to think about her words. And I’d come to a conclusion I had never thought of before. It smacked me in the face, punched me in the gut, and left me dizzy and breathless. I’d woken the next morning and decided to keep my realization to myself.

I kissed my wife’s forehead and whispered, “I think she’s okay with it.”

“I know that. And I know she’s watching us right now from her cloud, proud of who we’ve turned into. I just wanted to get it off my chest. Maybe now I’ll stop beating myself up over it.”

“Do you feel guilty for loving me?” I asked quietly, already knowing the answer before she shook her head. “Then you have no reason to feel this way. I have not once, ever, questioned the validity of how I feel about you.”

She leaned in closer and tilted her head back to see my eyes. “I know, Creed.” She sighed and shook her head, showing the irritation she had toward herself for being unable to voice her thoughts properly. I knew that feeling all too well.

A year after I’d realized my feelings for Drea, I couldn’t fight them any longer. We’d spent so much time together, no longer holding each other up when the weight of grief became too heavy. Instead, we hung out and lived life, the way Layne would’ve wanted us to. I’d stopped trying to date—which Drea had questioned often—and had continued to deter her away from other guys. I hadn’t realized I’d been so obvious until she cornered me one night. We’d been at a bar, both having our fair share of drinks, celebrating with a few guys from the firm after a victory in the courtroom. One of the junior attorneys started to get close to Drea, and she responded with her typical flirting. The entire scenario irked me, threatening to ruin my night, so I’d decided to interject. After the guy had walked away, she’d raised herself onto the balls of her feet until her eyes were level with mine.

“Be honest with me, Creed. Why wasn’t that one good enough?” she’d asked with a steady voice and quirked brows.

We’d done this so many times before—her constantly questioning my opinion, me finding some way around the truth. But this time, she’d had me in a position I couldn’t get out of. I’d passed the number of drinks I could have and still be a convincing liar.

“He only wants sex.” It had been the only thing I could come up with.

“You know you always look to the left when you’re lying to me. Fess up, Creed.”

Her stare had begun to wear me down, so I’d tried to take a move away. Only she grabbed my tie and pulled harder than I think either of us expected. With my face so close to hers, the heat of her breath had fanned over my lips, clouding my mind until I couldn’t take it anymore. “Because he won’t love you the way I do.”

“It’s about fucking time, you jackass,” she’d said with laughter in her voice.

The shock of her confession had knocked me back a step, forcing me to pull away from her. “What? You’ve known? How? And you’re okay with it?”

“Considering you replaced Layne’s picture on your desk with one of me and Layne, I’d say I’ve known since then—so for about six months now. I was just waiting for you to say something. I know how difficult it’s been for me, so I assumed it was hard for you, too.”

“What’s been difficult for you?”

“Loving the man who’s in love with my sister.”

“I’ll always be that man…I’ll always love her.”

She’d nodded and grinned at me. “I know.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Nope,” she’d said, popping the P and offering me a smoldering look with her eyes. “I know you’ll never love me the same way you loved her, because I’m not her. But I have no doubt you’ll love me with everything you have, because you have for this long.”

I’d glanced around the room, something she’d said echoing in my thoughts. When it had finally come to me, I held onto her waist and pulled her flush with my body, lowering my face to hers. “Did you say you love me?”

Her infectious laugh lilted through the air around me as she’d tilted her head back. “God, Creed. You’re so damn slow sometimes.” Her lips had grazed my jaw on the way to my ear, where she whispered, “Sometimes a girl doesn’t want slow.”

That had been a year and a half ago. I won’t lie, it had been slightly awkward to begin with. Mostly because her room was on the other side of the house. It took us about a month to adjust to the changes, going from friends to lovers. And on top of that, we had plenty of people pass judgment about how peculiar it was for me to be with Layne’s sister, or for her to be with her sister’s former boyfriend. What they didn’t know was how completely unplanned it was.

The very first moment I’d laid eyes on Layne, I knew she wouldn’t be just another girl I’d hung out with for a night. I knew she’d be around for a long time, and would stay with me forever. Drea, on the other hand, had just always been there. She’d been my friend the entire time. My confidante when I needed one, my support when I was weak, and the person I found myself wanting to spend time with regardless of my mood. I’d also been her shoulder to cry on, her handyman, and above all else, her friend. I had fallen in love with her and didn’t even know it. It was like a feather caught in the wind, gently rocked by the breeze—out of nowhere, unintentional, and so fucking natural. It had nothing to do with Layne. They truly were opposites in every sense of the word. Not once was I with Drea and thought about Layne…and if I did, it was because something else had reminded me of her.

The hardest part came down to when I’d asked her father for his permission to marry Drea. I thought he’d have a few harsh words for me. Even though we had grown close since Layne’s death—closer than before—I was sure he had some negative opinion over me being with Drea. However, when I’d asked him, he’d simply laughed and said, “It’s a good thing Drea wasn’t in the room when you gave Layne that ring. Good luck topping that one, son.” And that was it.

I hadn’t thought about it until he’d said something, which had in turn left me nervous as hell to ask Drea to marry me. I’d held onto the ring for a few months, waiting for the right time. I should’ve known it wasn’t important.

I’d come home one evening from work and found Drea in the kitchen cooking—in nothing but an apron and heels. I immediately got hard and took her on the kitchen counter, letting our food burn in the oven. Right before I came, I’d blurted out, “Marry me.”

After we both finished, she’d panted, “I was seriously wondering how long you were gonna hold onto that ring.”

Hearing the soft sounds of Mady in the crib behind me, I couldn’t help but think back to that night. It was the night our baby was conceived. Thinking about how Drea always knew what I felt before I did anything about it made me laugh.

She shushed me and then asked, “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking…”

“About Layne?”

I shook my head and walked her backward toward the door. “No…about you.”

Before I walked out of the room, I glanced down at the framed picture on the table next to the door. Drea had printed out the photo I’d had on my phone, the one I’d taken of Layne and me at Myrtle Beach all those years ago, and had the frame etched with her name.

Layne Madison Cooper
.

I gently shoved Drea out and closed the door behind me before pushing my wife against the adjacent wall, taking her lips with mine. “I love you, Dre.”

“I love you, too. Now will you tell me what you were thinking about when I walked in?”

I held her closer and dropped my mouth to her ear. “Just how I never thought I’d have her. You know? After Layne had her ovary removed, I’d convinced myself I’d never have my own child, one with my blood running through her veins. And now I do…because of you, Dre.”

She giggled and kissed my neck. “You had something to do with it.”

I picked her up and she wrapped her legs around my waist, her ankles locking behind me. I slapped her ass and said, “I had a lot to do with it…and I think it’s time I show you just how much participation I had.”

I quickly carried her to our room before Drea’s laughter woke Mady, and proceeded to show my wife, the mother of my child, just how much I loved her. How much she’d healed me without even knowing it.

Not every happily ever after looks the same.

Nor is it how you’d imagine it being.

But sometimes, it’s not about the fairytale ending. It’s about the healing. The kind of personal growth love offers. The mending of your heart, your soul, and your life.