The Boy I Married [hold]

18 | Pristine Condition

"Again," he says, tears welding in his eyes. His cheeks stained with leftover tears streaming down his face. I suppose I didn't have the right to cry with him because this entire situation was my doing, and yet somehow the tears continued falling from my eyes as well.

"We were at the coffee shop trying to come up with a new name for the business. He and I both knew we wanted something personalized and meaningful so I started playing around with the letters in our kid's name. We both lost a child and it somehow connected us on a different level."

"How did you know he had a kid? Let alone a kid that passed away?"

"He told me about him and his wife before," I sighed. "I knew that their names would be as personal as we could get. I don't know how it happened but one minute we were talking about the name and then we were crying together. Him crying made me feel extremely guilty. All of that sadness bottled up like that combined with the lack of closure still eating him up on the inside. And as much as it kills me to admit, it felt good to be able and talk to someone who felt the same pain as me. In a way it comforted the bits of myself I pushed away for everyone else's sake. I never got to properly grieve Aria. I treated her death as a fleeting moment and shrugged it off when deep down even deciding to breathe after she died was a challenge."

"Why didn't you tell me you were still hurting, Brooke? I could've made a difference. We could've worked through your emotions together," he huffs out in anger.

It wasn't his fault. I never faulted him on his inability to feel as devastated as I was. He wasn't her dad, but to choke that type of loss away as a blip in time was the stupidest thing I've ever witnessed—though I'd never tell him that. He did the best he knew how to do.

"It wouldn't have made a difference, Justin. I'm not saying it's your fault, because it's not. You just couldn't feel the pain I felt because she wasn't your daughter. You didn't spend months getting attached to a baby growing inside your belly. You didn't have to cover your mouth at night to hide the sobbing. It was me. I did, and I did it alone. I was okay with that though because she was my daughter. You couldn't have made a difference."

Justin wipes away a tear before it had a chance to fall on his face. He stands from the bed and starts pacing the room until a knock on the door caught the both of our attention.

Immediately I felt even more guilty. Pattie's opinion of me was something that I always held near and dear to my heart. She'd hate me if she knew what I had done to her son.

"Come in," Justin says, frantically wiping any evidence of emotions.

"Hey," she smiles, walking over to us and giving the both of us firm kisses on the cheek. "Scooter called me and told me you guys came home from your vacation early. Is everything okay?"

Justin wasn't the type to tell people when we were having problems if it were never brought up besides his outburst to Scooter earlier. Though his mother was a different story. He told her everything and I didn't expect less of that. My actions would have whatever consequences they had. I turned to look at him, trying to give him a nod of approval on the situation but instead of speaking, he shook his head and turned to me for confirmation.

If there was one thing I absolutely loved about Pattie, it was her undying ability to assist a situation from the outside perspective. Justin was her son—her only son, but even she'd be on my side when it came down to a baby. My infidelity wouldn't smooth over with her, but neither would Justin's extracurriculars on tour.

There was a brief moment after Aria died where Pattie would come over to my parents house and consul me as best she could. She'd somehow had the strength or power to convince me out of bed and into a shower after weeks had passed without one. She was there for me when I got out of that awful relationship with Dylan. Pattie was always there for me and Justin knew it. Maybe that's why he decided to keep quiet. An attempt to savor the relationship between his mom and I.