Paper Hearts

epilogue

Early in the morning, I slipped out of bed and walked across the hardwood floors, the boards creaking ever-so-slightly under my bare feet. I didn't want to wake him; he'd always been a light sleeper. I poured myself a cup of coffee―he had insisted I get used to the taste, and slowly but surely, I had―and sipped it, looking out into the Kentucky morning air.

I could feel the nerves pulsing in my veins; I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I released a long, shaky breath, glancing back into the bedroom, where I could still see the faint outline of him, still sleeping, still oblivious.

I moved to the phone and dialed, tapping my foot until the person on the other line answered.

"Hello?"

"Rachael," I breathed, "Hey."

"Hi!" She replied brightly. "Sorry, Nolan's off at work if you need to talk to him; I could take a message, though―"

"No, I wanted to talk to you," I corrected her, and she gave a laugh.

"Okay. Whatcha need?"

"I'm about to do it," I whispered, and she gave a squeal of excitement.

"Oh, my God, Vicki, really? Oh, this is so exciting!"

"Shh," I said, pushing the sound through a laugh, "I don't know for sure; it might not happen."

"Yeah, but what if it does?" She asked, and I gave a slight chuckle.

"Don't get my hopes up."

"Well, what are you doing talking to me? Go ahead, honey, and then tell me when you get a chance."

I smiled, excited in spite of myself.

"Okay," I whispered, "Talk to you later."

"I love you, sweetie. Good luck!"

"Love you, too."

And with that, I hung up, shaking out my hands and closing my eyes.

"Please," I whispered, under my breath, "Please, please, please."

And with that, I made my way into the bathroom quietly, a smile spreading across my features as I contemplated what this could potentially mean for Luke and I, and what it could change for our future.

________

Tears began to fill my eyes as I looked down at the small, plastic object―unable to believe what I was seeing. Bile rose in my throat as I scanned it, again and again, the horrible feeling of disappointment and dread and a million other things crashing into me as I looked at that singular line that could only mean one thing.

Not pregnant.

I couldn't hold it in anymore; a sob escaped my lips as tears, hot and steady, flowed down my face. I cried for what felt like ages, and I wanted to scream, to scream my throat raw, but Luke was still asleep and the last thing I wanted to do was wake him with this news, so I stayed silent, save for the occasional involuntary hiccup, or the pathetic, high-pitched breath of air that escaped me as I closed my eyes and buried my head in my hands, sinking to the floor.

"No," I whispered, my voice ragged, "Oh, God, no..."

And then there was a frantic pounding on the door behind me, and I gave a start.

"Victoria?" Came his voice, edgy and frantic. "Victoria, are you alright?"

"No," I replied, my voice a bare whisper. "Luke..."

But he had already opened the door, taken in the scene, and immediately sat down next to me, extending his arms. I fell into them, my chest heaving, head spinning.

"What's going on?"

I gulped, holding up the negative pregnancy test in my trembling fingers, and he inhaled sharply, but didn't say anything.

"It's not going to happen for us," I told him, my breathing shallow and weak. "The doctors told us it was an impossibility―I just thought―"

I broke off; the immense sadness of it all was too much to bear, and he just held me on the bathroom floor, his nose buried into the crook of my neck.

"Hey, honey, it's okay," he whispered. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," I protested, unable to keep the tremulous note from my voice, "I can't give you what you've always wanted; I can't make us a family, Luke―I can't."

"I don't care, Victoria," he told me, hugging me closer, "This―this doesn't change us. It doesn't lessen my love for you. I married you for a reason, and it wasn't so that we could have kids."

I shook my head, a whimper escaping my parted lips, and he silenced me.

"I married you because I love you, no matter what, no strings attached. I love you, not the possibility of a child. If this is what you really want, we can find another option; there are plenty of different ways of doing this."

"I'm sorry," I told him, shutting my eyes tight, "I'm so sorry."

"Victoria, don't be."

"How can you say that?" I whispered, as the tears continued to roll down my face, "How can you be so―so calm? This is what we've wanted, Luke, and I hate myself for ruining it."

"No," he said, pressing his lips to my temple, "Don't say that. You don't deserve that. Maybe this is what we've wanted, but things change, things happen. We just have to keep on moving. No plans, remember?"

I glanced down at his wrist, where the constellation of Ursa Major was set in permanent ink, an actual tattoo that he got the day before our wedding, to surprise me.

"Love intervenes," I said, tracing the outline of it with my finger. He caught my drift and did the same, his hand clasping over mine.

"Love intervenes." He echoed, and I sniffed, trying to compose myself.

"This hurts," I told him finally, and he gave me a small, sad smile as he rubbed my shoulders.

"Of course it does. Of course it does. It hurts like hell. But that's not going to stop us from moving forward, is it?"

"No," I said finally, and my heart lifted ever-so-slightly in my chest, if only for the intense adoration I found in his gaze, "It's not."

"Good."

And as he kissed me, and I slumped against him, I realized that there comes a point where everything and everyone has to be broken. But the brokenness can always be mended. Lost relationships between mothers and daughters, empty promises between boys and girls, even two divorced people trying to make things right.

Everything could be healed in its own beautiful way, and I was just now on the road to healing, but the thing was―I wasn't alone.

Because Luke Callaway would always be by my side to help me piece my fragile, paper heart back together again.