Amplify (46 page)

The guilt settles in and I give Mum a light comforting tap on her knee. Mum’s eyes pop open and meet mine for a brief moment before I turn my face back towards the wooden box my soul-mate lies in.

The heat of Mum’s stare burns the side of my face while searching, looking, and wishing to see something. I could save her the time and tell her there’s nothing left. Anything I had lies in that coffin, and I am broken beyond all repair.

Normally, I’m an emotional person. Nate would laugh at me all the time when I would cry at silly advertisements on the TV, like the one with the war heroes returning home to loved ones, or the one where the cutest dog ever rolls around in the toilet paper. Don’t ask me why. Or the one about funeral insurance where the old couple are walking down the street holding hands, and suddenly the man disappears leaving the woman walking alone. I wonder if our reactions would’ve been different if we knew then it would soon be us.

Nate wouldn’t recognize me sitting here today: eyes dry of tears, face blank, and body numb. I don’t know why I’m having this reaction. Part of me thinks it’s because deep down I don’t want everyone to watch me fall apart, the other part of me thinks it’s because during the last week I have cried myself out of tears, but most of me thinks it’s because I’m broken.

No longer the Brooke I once was. The happy Brooke, the vibrant Brooke, easy-going, laid-back, and positive Brooke. I’m missing something, and I know exactly what that is: my partner, my conscience, my brainstormer, my handyman, my therapist, my negotiator, my cheer squad, my best friend, my other half ... my soul mate.

The pastor calls the pallbearers, and I watch as Saxon leads Nate’s father, Mark, along with Logan and Jake, who are Saxon and Nate’s other best friends from college. It means a lot to me that they flew in on such short notice. I know they’re both busy in their own careers as well, Nate being the only one of the four who has settled down ... or had settled down.

I guess I’ll need to get used to talking about Nate in the past tense, as he was instead of as he is. In thinking that notion, a lump forms in my throat and a tightness pulls in my chest.

I watch as they carry my husband out. This will be the last time I see him, walk with him. Standing to follow, there is relief as both my hands are released. Rachel gets to her feet and wraps her arm tightly around my waist, as if she thinks she may have to lead me, help me walk, or carry me even.

My knees weaken, and I think perhaps she may be right. My dad rushes to my side and grabs a hold of me by my elbows. I lean back into him and let him hold my weight. He may be the only man left in my life to support me. The only man left who I can lean on, rely on ... depend on.

I decided to have the wake here at the funeral home since I hadn’t determined exactly what I wanted to do with Nate’s ashes yet. I was pretty sure I was going to purchase a memorial plot at the cemetery, but I knew whatever I decided it would be something I would do alone.

Walking down the aisle, I glance around in amazement at how many people are here, considering Nate doesn’t have a huge family. He only has the one sibling, his younger sister Molly, and his parents’ families all live out of state. I shouldn’t be so amazed. I knew the perfectness of Nate better than anyone. He never met anyone who didn’t like him.

I always wondered why he had chosen me, chosen me to love and to cherish, to spend forever with, and to make a home and a family with. Tears build in my eyes as I place my hand protectively over my belly.

Once we reach the foyer I pull out of Rachel’s grasp and head for the bathroom. I look up, willing the wetness in my eyes to dry and not fall. The sedation and numbness begins wearing off as the tightness in my chest expands. I can’t go on like this.

Entering the bathroom, I quickly check the stalls and then proceed to lock myself in one. Using some toilet paper I push the seat lid down, dropping myself onto it as I lean forward with my head between my legs.

I know it won’t be long before they come looking for me, never leaving me alone for more than five minutes to even shower or use the bathroom. I know they think they are being helpful and looking out for me, but I feel like I can’t catch a breath. I haven’t been able to feel the air in my lungs for nearly a week. Will I ever be able to breathe properly again?

Trying to pull myself together, I stand, brush off, and straighten my semi-fitting simple black dress and head towards the kitchen. Feeling somewhat maintained and put together, I push open the kitchen door and stop mid-step. The small amount of breath I was holding leaves me; the ominous lump in my throat and the tears in my eyes return.

I meet his eyes and stare as he looks so deeply into mine. His eyes are like a mirror, a reflection of my own. Loss, anguish, affliction, and sorrow pour out of them. He gives me a small, sad smile, which causes my stomach to coil in a tight knot.

Before I even have time to think, I’m running to him. Throwing my arms around his waist I hold on for dear life, letting everything I feel leak onto his dress shirt. Saxon tenses before he slowly wraps his arms around my back. Being that I only stand at five-foot-three, and he is at least six-foot-four, I am cuddling his waist like a small child.

Saxon bends his knees as he leans lower to meet my gaze and places two hands on my cheeks. Wiping my tears with his thumbs, he whispers, “Oh, baby girl.”

Looking into his eyes, I know why I’ve broken down. Why I’ve let him see me at my most vulnerable. Saxon is the only one who truly understands ... the only other person here who has lost their other half ... their best friend ... their soul mate.

He breaks our stare like he can’t possibly stand to see anymore and stands up straight. He wraps his arms around me again somehow even tighter than before, like this time he is the one holding on for dear life. I let him, placing my face back against his chest.

We stand like this for what feels like hours, but is probably only minutes. His pain and heartache seep out of him and flow over me. It’s strangely comforting, and not at all unsettling.

Eventually my tears settle, and I’m finally able to take a deep breath. I have been waiting all week for some break from the crushing pain, and for a small moment, I have it.

The kitchen door opens and there are mumbled voices, but I am too disconnected to discern them. Suddenly the heat of Saxon leaves me as he hands me over to my father, who hugs me tightly. Someone kisses the top of my head and mumbles something, but I’m not sure whether it’s my dad or Saxon.

***

A
VAILABLE NOW

.

“G
eez, I’ll be out in a second. Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I yelled, trying not to smudge the eyeliner I was applying. I heard her grumble something as she walked away.

Faith and I looked a lot alike; we both had long blonde hair and brown eyes, but she was about two inches taller than me and drop dead gorgeous. It used to bug me; but now I tell her she got all the height, but I got all the boobs.

We went out every Friday night, mostly for fun, but I was always looking for Mr. Right. What I would do if I actually found him—I didn’t know for sure. Tonight we were headed into the city to see what kind of trouble we could find. Faith, of course, was slutting it up, dressed in a micro mini dress that barely covered her lady bits. She had a model’s frame, long and lean, and she could wear whatever she wanted. I, on the other hand, dressed a bit more conservative and made sure my skirts landed no shorter than three inches above my knee. I didn’t feel comfortable on display for all to see. I needed my cardigans and longer skirts.

We hit the town running, and in no time, we were sitting in the The Violet Hour, a swanky lounge, surrounded by some serious eye candy.

Faith was already off hitting on some hot guy at the other end of the bar, leaning in close as they spoke. Her hand on his bicep, a playful look in her eyes. Pure Faith. I shook my head; she was shameless when it came to getting some.

I was sitting by myself, sipping some fruity, girly drink with an obscene name like “Screaming Orgasm” or something.

“Can I join you?” a warm voice asked from behind me.

I turned around and had to look up because the man was a lot taller than me, even on a barstool. My breath caught in my throat— he oozed confidence and sex appeal. Dressed in a navy suit, he was by far the most attractive man in the bar. I chewed my lip nervously, why would he want to sit with me when there were so many beautiful women ready to throw themselves at him?

“Please do.” I smiled at him and took a big gulp of my drink before smoothing my skirt down over my knees “Scotch, neat,” he said to the bartender before turning to me. “Logan.” He took my hand in his and brushed his lips across my knuckles.

“Grace.” My heart beat a little faster as he released my hand. I could still feel the tingle of where his lips had been. I was for sure out of my element here.

“Are you from here?” he asked casually, his green eyes studying me. His finger tapped against the edge of his glass.

“Yeah, born and raised. What about you?”

“Here on business.” He didn’t elaborate further. I sighed inwardly, of course he wasn’t from here. He was too good to be true.

Logan intrigued me. He was not the typical guy I normally went for. I liked surfer-looking guys; yeah, I know, Chicago was not exactly on the coast, but we all had a type. Logan was sexy as hell, though, his tan skin and dark hair perfectly styled in the
Mad Men
style that all the guys seemed to be wearing these days.

“How long are you here for?” I hoped he’d say at least a week.

“I fly out tomorrow afternoon.” He set his drink down next to mine and our hands touched. It was electric. Whatever this was that was happening between us, it needed to be explored, and now. Something about him brought out the shameless side of me, like I had no control. He was making me crazy. This wasn’t me. This was Faith. Maybe the fact that this couldn’t go anywhere was making me brave.

I slipped forward a bit on my bar stool, letting my legs touch his. “Tell me something about yourself, Logan.”

He shook his head. “Nothing personal, this is just about tonight.” His eyes smoldered. He clearly felt exactly what I was feeling

Nothing personal. Could I do that? Go into this without knowing anything about him? I watched as he brought his drink to his lips again. How he savored the scotch. My nerves were like live wires. I had a sudden insane thought that I wanted him to savor me like he did the scotch.

“Fine, I’ll go first. I like kittens more than puppies, my favorite TV show is
Friends
, and I love wearing heels, but my feet hate me for it. Now you go.”

Logan grinned at me. “I happen to love kittens, too. Only a monster would pick puppies over kittens.”

Oh, God, I was in serious trouble.

“My favorite TV show is
Pawn Stars
. I know it’s not
The Wire
or some other manly show, but I like to know how much things cost.” He shrugged.