Bo & Ember (27 page)

“I’m sorry,” I stammered as I put my arm around her waist, enjoying the view of the ten-foot tall tree. “Work … the gala.”

Looking down at Ember, I watched her eyebrows scrunch in confusion. She lifted her chin and met me with a fierce gaze.

“You’ve been drinking.”

I shrugged. “We went to McCarthy’s after work. It’s been a long couple of week—”

“Has it?” she snapped. “Has it been a long couple of
fucking
weeks? Did it ever occur to you that I might want to get out of the house, too?”

Her nostrils flared and I took a self-preserving step backward.

“I haven’t told you that you couldn’t … you have your own car…” I tilted my head trying to understand where this was going.

“Ever since we lost the baby you haven’t taken me anywhere. We don’t go out to dinner anymore, you don’t ask me for lunch at your office…” She paused long enough to burst into tears. “And you didn’t even tell me the details about the gala. I know I let you down, Bo. I’m
sorry.
I’m sorry I lost the baby!” Her face turned bright red as she shrieked and walked out the back of the room and into the kitchen.

“Ember!” I called after her. “What the hell?”

Entering the kitchen, I found her pouring a glass of wine. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and brought the glass to her lips.

“Yeah,
I’ve
been drinking.” My mocking tone arched her eyebrow all on its own.

“Look at the counter, asshole. There’s a glass here for you, too. Only, that was poured two
hours
ago when you were supposed to be home. No call. No show. That’s your M.O. the past two weeks, isn’t it?” Her eyes never left mine as she set her glass on the counter. She finally broke my gaze when she turned and walked through the dining room and headed for the stairs.

She’d never called me an asshole before. In my anger, I was scrolling through my brain in futility to remember if we’d ever sworn
at
each other … outside of any instances where Adrian Turner may have been present.

“Asshole?” I said more to myself than her as I ran to catch up with her on the stairs. “Did you call me an asshole?”

Ember whipped around mid-step. “Yes,” she hissed. “I did. You’re an asshole. All day I’ve felt like complete
shit
because I thought I’d been selfish over the last several weeks. Spending so much time with Willow and on the phone with—you know what? It doesn’t matter. The point is I knew we were off-kilter, and I was trying to make it better. I thought I’d at least get a
fucking
tree since you don’t seem to think I’m even worthy of having this tradition with you!” She gripped the railing and turned back for her ascent.

“Off-kilter? We’ve been fine! You’ve been working with Tyler and I’ve been at work. What the
fuck
do you want from me?” I shouted as she reached our bedroom door.

I was halfway down the hallway when I said that, and Ember turned on her heels and walked with rage-filled speed to meet me where I stood.

“What I
wanted
from you,” she started in anger, “was to hold me. Cry with me. Scream—” Her voice cut off as it turned to sobs. “I wanted you to scream with me about our baby that we lost and to talk with me about what we might want to do with the ashes, Bo! I wanted you to walk through this with me! Instead, you go off on your merry way to work and pretend none of this ever happened!” She stood toe-to-toe with me and pushed me with all of her might, causing me to stagger back two or three steps.

Ember’s sobs carried her back to the bedroom door. I met her there, grabbing her arm and spinning her around.

“Don’t touch me!” She thrashed like a wild animal as she screamed.

“Calm down!” I shouted back.

“Fuck off!”

I dropped my hands, and with it, my tone. “Don’t you
dare
tell me I’m walking around like
nothing happened.
You have
no idea
what’s
happening
in my head.”

Tears poured freely from her stiff eyes. “Because you won’t talk to me. This is a partnership, and I’m the only one sitting at the table.” She walked through the door and over to our bed, climbing onto it and moving to her side. “Get out.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s my house.”

“
Our
house,” she cracked mockingly.

I stood my ground just inside the door.

Ember’s hands clenched around the perfectly white comforter. “Bo, I swear to God if you don’t get out—”

“What?” I challenged. “Are you going to push me? Again?”

She slid off her side of the bed and walked around it until we were once again face-to-face. “No. But if you won’t leave, I will.” She spoke with unfaltering confidence.

I clenched my teeth and stepped to the side, gesturing my hand to the door.

Ember huffed. “You just love letting me go, don’t you? I’m tired of the game, Bo.”

“What fucking game?”

She held out her hands. “I thought we were soul mates. I thought we took
vows
to protect
us
from this shit. Where are you? Where’d you go? Is this how it is when shit gets rough? Bo Cavanaugh puts on a suit and a smile and drinks a quarter of his weight in beer?”

My breathing was still rough, but my tone was calmer. “The only one playing a game here is you. Threatening to leave? How is that virtue? How is that honoring and cherishing?”

“We lost our
baby
, Bo…” Her eyes filled with fresh tears that I could bear no longer.

“I know we lost the damn baby! I know! I want to stop talking about it. I do! I want to stop adding to the list of shit that I’ve lost.” My voice cracked as a few tears slid down my cheeks.

“No,” Ember demanded. “You don’t get to start crying. Not now. Not after weeks of abandoning me.” Her voice was scratchy from yelling, and shaking from the tears.

I meant to tell her I was sorry. That it wasn’t her fault that she’d lost the baby. I wanted so badly to tell her that God was the one we should be mad at, not each other. Instead, I watched her walk out of the room and slowly down the hall. She reached the door to my old bedroom, and as she touched the handle, she addressed me while still staring at the door.

“In two weeks I’m going to the DROP gala with you. We’ll play the part of the happy couple because I refuse to sit hidden in here anymore like I’ve done something wrong. Until then, I’m sleeping in here.” Ember walked through the door and slammed it shut before I could respond.

Once I heard the click of the lock, I slammed our door and crashed onto the bed. Just then, my phone buzzed with a text. It was from Yardley, and sent to me and Ember in a group message.

Yardley: Hey guys! Just wanted to firm up with you that we’re going to do some promo stuff in California mid-January. We’ll do some still and video shots of you all performing in the sand, similar to the idea we did in the studio in NY. Pack your bags! You’ll fly out January 12. I’ll call you both after Christmas. Enjoy the holiday! Xo

Ember texted back almost immediately.

Ember: Sounds great, can’t wait! Merry Christmas. :)

I took my phone and chucked it across the room.

“Great!” I shouted so loud I was afraid I damaged my vocal chords. At least I was pretty sure Ember heard me.

Ember

1:00 AM.

I
t was the longest Bo and I hadn’t spoken since we’d gotten back together. It was the only major fight we’d had as husband and wife.

And, I couldn’t sleep.

I’d snapped. It came out of nowhere, and by the time I was several minutes into yelling, it was too late to do anything but see it through. I hadn’t acknowledged the pressure I had been feeling inside, and when it broke free, I’d said things I didn’t even realize I’d been resenting, but had to acknowledge.

Now it was one in the morning, and I was angry, sad, and ashamed. About everything. Christmas was next week, the gala the following week, then two weeks later we’d be flying to California to face our first PR firing squad. To sell a CD sung by two total different people. Ones who were on the same wavelength. Ones who wouldn’t have ever said the things we’d said to each other.

I lay restless in Bo’s old bedroom. I didn’t even try to sleep. Tossing and turning, I fought the urge to race down the hallway to our bedroom. Would I yell? Would I apologize? I had no answers, so I stayed put.

I buried my face in my pillow and screamed and cried as loud as I could. My throat hurt, and I was thankful we’d already finished recording the album. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Any of it. Bo and I were soul mates. Weren’t we? I cried harder at the question that never should have swirled through my mind.

While I’d spent weeks working on my spiritual healing, there was an empty hole inside my heart from the connection Bo and I used to have. Until I’d lost our baby. I knew it wasn’t my
fault
, but it kept me awake some nights knowing that I couldn’t help the instant vacancy in Bo’s eyes when the doctor confirmed the miscarriage.

During an intermission from the tears, there was a soft knock on the door.

“Ember?” Bo’s voice was hoarse and raspy, but came out in a whisper. There was brokenness scraping away at his throat that stung my eyes.

I sniffed as I sat up, weighing if I should go to the door or make
him
go away. I couldn’t trust my actions as evidenced by our heinous fight hours earlier. I didn’t want to hurt him any further. And, I didn’t want to hurt
us
any more, if that was even possible.

“Em,” he pleaded. “You’re crying and I can’t … just
please
open the door.”

As I rose to my feet, I wiped under my eyes, feeling how swollen they were from the uppercuts of a thousand tears. I straightened my shoulders as I opened the door, but that did nothing to steel myself from the sight of him.

Bo’s head leaned against the doorframe, and he was picking at his fingernails. When he looked up, my chest hurt at the sight of his tear-soaked cheeks and pained eyes. Everything about him looked grey. His eyes, the skin under them, and his frown. Drained to a level of lifelessness I hadn’t seen since Rae died.

We stared at each other for three of the worst seconds of my life. Bo moved away from the doorframe and stuck out his hand. Instinctively I took one step back and turned my head. I couldn’t bear his touch if it would feel anything like he looked.

“Can I come in?” he asked as he stuck his hand in his pocket.

I nodded and walked back to the bed, sitting gently and curling my hands around the edge of the mattress. Bo sat next to me, his leg brushing against my wrist and staying there. A churning pain in the center of my chest worked its way to my throat and up into my eyes as I looked to the floor.

Bo sighed heavily and put his hand on the center of my back, moving his thumb up and down a few centimeters at a time. I was frozen solid, knowing I was about to explode from the fuel of every emotion I was feeling, and I didn’t think I’d survive it.

“Hey,” he whispered because I think that’s all the voice he had left.

I looked to the floor and shook my head. My tongue was swollen with sorrow and anger.

“Em,” he continued. “Say something.”

The urgent insistence in his voice broke the dam in me. As I exhaled, tears fell from my eyes and landed between my feet on the hardwood floor. The garbled moan soon followed, and Bo whispered, “Jesus,” as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his chest.

“I…” I started to say
something
but I couldn’t.

“Shh,” Bo replied. “It’s okay. Jesus, Ember, I’m so sorry.”

“No!” I yelled over my cries as I pressed my face into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I screamed at you, I’m sorry I pushed you, and I’m sorry I lost the—”

“Stop.” Bo gripped my shoulders and urged me to sit up. “It’s not your fault. It’s not
anyone’s
fault.” His chin shook as he cried through the rest of his words. “It just
happened
and it’s no one’s fault, okay? I didn’t even realize you thought it was your fault.”

I wiped under my eyes, but I couldn’t keep up with the tears. “That’s because you wouldn’t talk to me about it! I … you just wanted to get back to normal and didn’t even…” I couldn’t finish a single sentence. The tears made them want to come out all at once.

I took a deep breath and continued. “Maybe it’s because I kept the pregnancy a secret from you for too long. Maybe I didn’t want it bad enough.” I hung my head and cried even harder.

“Ember, please,” Bo begged. “Stop beating yourself up.” He lifted my chin and looked me in the eyes.

“How am I supposed to feel? You dove right back into work and stay out drinking with your colleagues at least two nights a week.”

Bo dropped his hand from my face and covered his mouth, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he shook his head and shrugged. “I’m a total fuck-up. I’m sorry. This isn’t—”

“How marriage is supposed to be,” I cut in. “What’s happening to us right now?” I lay back on the bed, curling up on my side because I was too tired to even sit.