Chapter 19

I'm frozen,staring at Gabe, barely able to breathe. His suggestion to adopt my niece and nephew is so sudden, so intense. Did he realize how strong his words came across?

Gabe kisses the top of Caleb's head, breaking the silence. "It's just a suggestion," he says softly. "Or did you want me to say something else? Like, we'll help Izzy be the mom she needs to be?"

I find myself nibbling my lip, still processing his words, still locked in his gaze.

Gabe whispers, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, "I'm not sure what you want me to say." He continues rocking Caleb back and forth with so much love it makes me wonder if he would've done the same with our girl. "But I'll do anything in my power to ensure that you and the kids are okay. That's a promise."

I hear him, but all I can focus on is our baby. Just thinking of her makes my heart stutter. Why do other children deserve to have me when she didn't?This is why I plan on being childless for the rest of my life. It's best for everyone.

The words finally find their way out of my throat. "I don't think I can be a mother," I admit. "My examples of motherhood were . . . pretty terrible. And you and I . . ."

"We're broken up?" he asks and the pain in his voice squeezes my heart.

"You abandoned me." The words spill out, heavier than I intend them to be. "And how do you get past the fact that our daughter is dead? How is it fair to give a family and love to other children when she'll never have any of that?"

Gabe's eyes close briefly, drawing in a deep breath, as if to gather his thoughts and strength. When he opens them again, they're filled with so much pain. I ache to console him, but stay in place. "Since the moment you left . . . I had no idea how badly I had treated you, but I can guarantee you that I have regretted all my actions. I thought I was doing what was best for us.

"Everything I did then, and everything I do now, is in her memory. Because I'm sure she would have wanted her siblings to be healthy. Because I hope she's proud of her father, who tries to save mothers like hers so they can have children." Gabe exhales harshly, his breath ragged with pain. His gaze shifts to Caleb, then back to me. "In my mind, our daughter is just like you. Selfless and loving. She would want us to care for her cousins and share her family with them. It's not about forgetting her but celebrating her while we're alive."

His words hit me like a tidal wave, stirring a storm of emotions within me. The mention of our daughter, the pain and love in his voice for her, it's overwhelming. Tears start to well up, blurring my vision. A single tear escapes, trailing down my cheek, followed by another, and then another. The dam breaks, and I'm crying openly, each tear a mix of grief, love, and a deep sense of loss.

The tears keep coming, unstoppable, as everything he's said sinks in.

His confession, his longing to honor our daughter's memory, it's both heart-wrenching and strangely healing. I cry for our past, for our daughter, for the life we could have had, and for the future. It's a release of so many pent-up emotions, a catharsis that leaves me feeling raw but strangely lighter.

When I finally muster the courage to look up at him, my voice breaks through the tears. "Alisson."

"What?" Gabe's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I named her Alisson," I mumble, my voice barely audible, my gaze dropping to the floor. "I call her Aly."

"Aly," he says, his voice soft, a tender smile touching his lips. "I think it's perfect, like her."

"But I'll never be able to hold her," I choke out, the sobs racking my body even harder.

Gabe handles Caleb with gentle care, placing him back in the crib. He does so with precision, ensuring all the tubes, cables, and monitors are properly arranged. Once he's done, he turns to me, his arms open and inviting.

He pulls me into his embrace, and I collapse against him, my tears soaking into his shirt. "Aly is in your heart, and she's in mine. That's where we'll always carry her, where she'll always belong," he whispers, stroking my hair, offering a comfort that's as much for him as it is for me. "She won't stop being ours or disappear if we make the decision to adopt, have children, or . . ." His voice trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.

There's grief, raw and unyielding, for our daughter—our baby, Alisson, who we never got to hold. There's also a shared pain that could somehow bridge the gap to help us heal. His embrace is comforting in a bittersweet way, much like this conversation. He's probably right.

Alisson will always be in our hearts, forever loved.

"I still don't know if I can trust you again," I confess, pulling away just enough to see his face, my voice quivering.

He looks at me, earnest and hopeful. "Let me earn your trust. Show you that I've grown and learned that communication is the key. Show you that I'm willing to go to therapy and do anything in my power to make you fall in love with the man I am today."

"I live in New York," I remind him.

"If moving there is what you need, then that's what we'll do. We'll move to The Big Apple," he says, without hesitation.

My lips part but no words form. The notion of him doing the impossible so I would fall for him again terrifies and thrills me. A whirlwind of emotions churns inside me. His willingness to uproot his life for us, for me, is staggering.

Could we actually try again after everything? It's a grand gesture, but is it enough to mend the broken trust?

"Can I . . . Let's take this one day at a time," I suggest. "Caleb and Cora are counting on me. I have to know what's happening with Izzy. There has to be a reason why she got hooked on opioids. An accident, dental work, or . . ." My thoughts trail off, wondering if we'll be able to help her and the future of the little ones.

"I could ask my people to check if there's any more info in her medical history. Maybe we could find out why she got divorced," he adds.

"Should I wait for her to wake up?" I ask, biting my lower lip in contemplation. "Respect her privacy."

"She lost that when she decided to put her children in danger," he reminds me.

I stare at him, thinking if we should try to get to the bottom of her situation without her involvement. Sure, she can give me her side of the story later, but this could help us even more. "What if she wakes up tomorrow?" I ask, hopeful.

Gabe shakes his head. "She's medically sedated while her brain swelling goes down. We likely won't be able to talk to her for at least a week."

He takes my hand. "In the meantime, we need a plan for caring for the little ones. I'm taking a couple months off to be with you."

"I haven't even spoken to my bosses yet," I admit, staring at Caleb's little body resting still in the crib.

"I thought you did." Gabe frowns.

"We discussed getting temporary custody but . . . I didn't mention needing extended time off." I tap my chin contemplatively. "Though there is a branch of my firm here in Seattle. Maybe . . ."

Gabe squeezes my hand gently. "Listen, this isn't something you need to solve today," he assures. "However, if you need to take a leave of absence, I'll cover your expenses. We're still married and everything that's mine is yours."

I want to ask if he'll cover the expenses for my clients too. Some of them get help monthly. At least until they're back on their feet. But that's a discussion for another day.

"Tomorrow," I let out a low breath. "Tomorrow, I'll call and figure all this out."

I remain cradled against him, and notice a Roman numeral tattooed inside his arm, just before the elbow. It's a date. The date we lost our baby girl. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. He permanently marked Aly's loss on his skin, like carrying the grief close to his heart. I brush my lips over the ink, overcome with bittersweet emotion.

After all this time, he still honors our daughter as intricately as I do. Our shared pain binds us, two hurting souls who loved a life too brief yet so very wanted. If anyone understands this torrent of sadness, joy, fear, and hope swirling within me, it's this man. I cling to him tighter, letting the tears fall freely.