Page 40 of You Met Me There

He stops tickling the inside of my forearm and moves to trace my fingers which he’s spread out over his thigh. If we weren’t discussing a major bump in the road, I’d probably jump on top of him.

“Yes,” he says, drawing it out. “But also something else.”

I lean back to better look at him. How could there be something else? “Go on.”

“It’s something that happened with my mom.”

“Your mom!” I slap my palm against my forehead. “You were going to say something about her the other night and then my phone died! I was thinking of all the worst things that your mom could have done. What is it?”

“My mom didn’t do anything. But it’s something that happened to her.” I wait expectantly as he takes a breath. “When she was pregnant with me, she had a miscarriage. She thought she lost the pregnancy, but a few weeks later she found out she still had a healthy baby—me.” My face must show my confusion because he jumps to clarify. “She was pregnant with twins, and she lost one of them.”

My face scrunches up, and I search his eyes for what he must be feeling. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry for her, but also for you. You could have been a twin.”

“I was a twin. Until I wasn’t.”

My knees press against the side of his leg as I curl into him. “How did your mom handle it? Did she tell you what it was like?”

He nods, and a stray lock of blond hair falls across his eye. I lean up and swipe it aside, enjoying the brush of my skin against his face. It’s a movement I’ve done a hundred times, but in the graveness of this moment I want to comfort him in any way I can.

“She said it was awful. She wanted to be excited about my life still growing inside of her, but she also couldn’t stop thinking about the one that was lost.” His face looks pained, his jaw tight and his eyes sunken like I haven’t seen them before. “And then it happened again.” I gasp. “She was pregnant with another baby when I was seven, and she lost that one too. It crushed her. She wasn’t the same for months—years—after that. It changed her in ways I don’t fully understand, but it’s like a light inside of her went out. She became depressed. She wouldn’t eat. She took care of me, and I never felt like she didn’t love me, but she was sad. And it took a long time for her to come back to us—to me and Dad.”

A tear slips free from my eye, and I dash it away. “I didn’t know any of that. Your mom never told me.”

He shakes his head, wiping his palm against the side of his face. “She doesn’t like to talk about it. She hates that she fell into that depression when I needed her. She was like that for two years … It still makes her sad to think of the babies. And I still feel this urge to watch her, to make sure she isn’t slipping away again.”

I hold his hand between both of mine and bring it up to kiss his knuckles. Then I hug his hand close to my chest, laying my cheek on his shoulder. He folds into me, resting his chin on my head. Warmth from his skin seeps into my knee as he lays his hand there.

I’d never imagined a pregnancy going wrong. Never imagined my body not doing what it’s meant to do. I’m speechless, and as I collect my thoughts, I pull my hand back to rest it on his shoulder, sliding my fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. I play with the strands in gentle swirling motions, letting my touch soothe him.

“So you’re afraid we’ll lose a baby?” I ask, a whisper on my lips.

He nods his head in answer, but then shakes it. The motion slides against my hair. It’s nice that he’s being vulnerable with me, like we’ve begun to unlock something we never knew existed—sharing our fears.

He’s always known the darker part of me, but I’ve never heard him say words like this. He’s always the strong one between us.

I slow my breathing so I can hear him when he replies, “I’m afraid we’ll lose a baby. But I’m more afraid I’ll lose you if we do.”

Chapter 22

Natalie

We pitched our idea of hanging tourist-related photos on the walls of the cabin to Cam and Jules this afternoon at lunch. They’re all for it and have offered to pay me for my services, but I declined. I’ll do anything I can to wedge myself back into their lives. And if that means taking photos for free and sucking up to my older sister, then that’s what I’ll do. I’m not above a little groveling.

But then, when we mention updating the photos on their online listing, Cam is hesitant.

“Would we have to refurnish it?” he asks. “Do you think better photos would even help if we don’t have the cabin more up-to-date?” He sips hot coffee from a diner mug and sets it down with a quiet clack on the wooden table. Jules is sitting beside him in the shiny red booth, sharing a plate of crispy fries between them.

My eyes meet Luke’s and we both shake our heads. “I don’t think so,” I answer. “I think the house looks great the way it is. You have great furniture in there for the ‘rustic cabin’ style you have it listed as.”

Jules smiles at Cam, her eyes soft. “I told you. It’s fine; it looks great. Some portraits on the walls and new photos for the listing, and we’ll have that place booked solid all year.”

Juliet’s optimism, and the way she senses what Cam needs to hear, is fascinating to watch. And she isn’t just saying what she thinks will talk him off a ledge—she’s actually telling him what she believes. She believes in this cabin, which in turn is telling him that she believes in him. That he can get it rented out for the winter season, and she’ll be there to help and support him. His eyes crease as he smiles back at her.

Mom and Dad stayed at the house to watch the boys. It’s been a relief having a few minutes with my sister and her husband without four extra pairs of eyes watching me. I know everyone’s only interested in getting to know me, but sometimes the pressure makes my chest feel heavy. Too much attention in high-stress situations—like returning to my family roughly ten years after running away—causes my anxiety to threaten an attack on my nervous system.

Silverware taps against plates, and the hum of conversation floats around us from other tables nearby. The diner looks different than I remember it. It has updated flooring, and the walls might have been painted. It’s hard to remember exactly what it was before. The breathing room at the diner is a reprieve, however, as Luke’s elbow brushes my arm. Having him with me is a balm to my fractured heart. Without him, I was treading water, sinking slowly. But he’s my life raft, the sun that guides me. He hasn’t been here long, but he’s already held me afloat more than once.

The waitress walks up to our table, and we each order our meals. Fish for Luke, a burger for Cam, meatloaf for Jules, and I order a soup and salad.