Dane(24)

I couldn't even look at her while responding. The pain in her voice was  enough of a punch in the gut, I couldn't see it in her eyes, as well.  "It's been hard, Gabs. You haven't been the same. Seeing your smiling  face in front of me while I work and then come home to you crying or  curled up in bed, ignoring me … it's too much. It's too hard. So I put  them away to keep from feeling let down every time I come home."

She was silent while we made it to our condo, but the second the front  door was shut, she lashed out. "When did you get an assistant? How long  has she been working for you?"

"A few weeks. Not long."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, both of us trapped in the foyer of the  condo. "Long enough to take her on a trip. It looks sketchy, Dane. I  won't lie. You hire this young woman and then a few weeks later take her  out of state and stay the night with her. You've always gone on  business trips alone. You've never taken anyone with you-not even me!"  Her eyes widened and she gasped, holding the air in. "Was this really a  business trip?"         

     



 

My shoulders slumped forward, but I suppressed the groan threatening to  rip through my chest. "Of course it was. That's ridiculous. I haven't  taken anyone on trips for a while because I haven't had an assistant to  bring. Now I have one, so I brought her. And don't throw it in my face  that you never go with me … that has always been your choice. I used to  ask, and you always said no. So I stopped inviting you. Not to mention,  you won't even attend a company appreciation day with me-what makes me  think you'd go to Texas?"

"That's what this all comes back to, isn't it? My depression. I'm too  depressed to go to the beach with you, to go out of town with you. So  you go and hire trash to give you what I can't? Was she at the beach  that day?"

I turned around and balled my hands into fists, fighting off the surge  of anger rolling through me. I had come home with so much to say to her,  not expecting it'd start off like this. Her accusations only made it  harder to express my feelings and concerns, and I knew it was only a  matter of time before I lashed out.

"Don't call her trash. You don't know her," I hissed through gritted teeth, facing away from her.

"Her arm is practically covered in tattoos and she has piercings in her  face. What would you call that? It's certainly not very professional."

I spun on my heel, my eyes wide and jaw gaping. My fists clenched  impossibly tighter as I drew them closer to my body in a desperate  attempt to rein in my anger. "You do know I'm covered in ink, right? I'm  sure you've noticed the tattoos that cover pretty much my entire upper  body. You've never once accused me of not being professional. I think  your car and condo and clothes could attest to my professionalism."

She looked at me condescendingly, like I was out of line. "You're defending her. Why?"

"What the hell? I'm defending myself. You can't attack someone for  having tattoos when I have them, too. I have far more ink than Eden  does, and you've never once complained."

"How do you know how many tattoos she has?"

I rolled my eyes and threw my head back, completely exasperated. "This  is going nowhere. You're picking a fight and attacking my  assistant-inadvertently attacking me-because of an insecurity you have.  There's nothing going on between Eden and me. She's my assistant, and  I'm her boss. That's it."

"Then why didn't you tell me you'd hired her? Why didn't you tell me she  was going on the trip with you? Huh? If I have nothing to worry about,  why did you keep those things from me? You've talked to her about me,  about us, yet I didn't even know this woman existed."

Fury coursed through me unlike I'd ever felt before. I couldn't recall  ever being so angry with Gabi. "You would have known about her had you  taken two seconds to ask about me. If you showed one ounce of interest  in my life, you'd know who was in it. But you don't. You're too wrapped  in your books or TV. You don't talk to me, and you certainly don't  listen when I talk to you. So don't you dare throw this in my face and  make me out to look like some cheating asshole. I've never cheated on  you."

Gabi threw her arms out and leaned toward me. Pain, rage, rejection, and  sorrow rolled off her like the tide on the shore. "I lost a baby! Our  baby! And I'm still dealing with it. Sorry if I can't just get over it  like you can. Sorry the thought of never smelling her hair or hearing  her giggle is so unbearable I can't breathe at times."

"Don't! Don't do that, Gabi. You act as if we lost the baby yesterday.  We didn't. It's been months and I've dealt with that. You haven't. You  can't be mad at me for learning how to live my life and carry on seven  months after you miscarried." My temper got the best of me and I began  to yell. I had never yelled at her before, and part of me felt bad.  Although, another part of me felt relieved that I was finally able to  get it out. I was finally able to say things I'd thought about but was  never able to even utter.

She broke down and began to cry harder. The relief I had felt for  speaking my mind vanished and was quickly replaced with remorse. I hated  watching her cry. It didn't matter how many times I'd seen it over the  years, it still cut me open.

Guttural sobs filled her every word. "Not everyone can go through  something like that and then go on with their lives as if nothing  happened. As if my child didn't die inside me. As if I couldn't even  protect my own baby. I couldn't protect her … "         

     



 

"Gabi," I pleaded in a whisper and tried to bring her closer to me.

She shoved against my chest and pushed me away. "You don't get it. I  can't make you laugh. I can't make you smile. I can't even think about  being intimate with you without thinking of pregnancies and babies … which  leads me to thinking about miscarriages. If I haven't already, I'll  eventually push you so far away you'll end up in the arms of another  woman. Someone like Eden."

"That's not fair. Don't do that. Give me a little more credit than that."

"Think about it, Dane. It's obvious you have more in common with her.  Tattoos, work … I can't relate to that. I don't even have my ears pierced,  and I have no idea what investments actually entails. Why are you even  with me? I can't give you what you want. I'm not what you need. I'm  useless. I might as well not even be here."

I grabbed her and hugged her tightly to my chest. I hated hearing the  depths of her self-hatred. It gutted me to hear her talk about herself  like that. "Stop, Gabi. Let's just calm down. Nothing will get solved if  we're both so worked up."

She pushed away and looked up at me with tears streaking her face. "I can't be what you need anymore."

I felt stuck, as if I were literally caught between a rock and a hard  place. I'd come home, ready to talk to Gabi about the future of our  relationship, ready to tell her I couldn't live like this anymore. But  now, looking into her large, grief-stricken eyes, I couldn't find it in  me to tell her any of that. I knew she was depressed. I knew losing the  baby had taken a toll on her. But I never realized the part I played in  it. She'd never told me these things before. Hearing her confess to not  being enough for me, for failing me, for holding me back … it was more  than I could bear. And I didn't see the point in letting her go now. Not  after she finally opened up to me.

"It's hard, Gabs. It's so damn hard to see you upset all the time. I  miss the old you-the us we lost along the way. I know we can find each  other again-it'll happen. But I can't do much more than what I'm already  doing, and that frustrates me. It makes me feel like I can't fix you."

"I hate it when you say that."

I didn't understand. "You hate it when I say what?"

"When you talk about fixing me. I'm not one of your companies you can  take over and fix. I lost a child. I'm grieving, Dane. On top of that,  you asked me to talk to someone, so I did. But it's not helping. He's  making me talk about my mom. He's making me talk about all the crap from  my past. He's heard it all before, but he's making me relive everything  and I can't do it! I can't go there again! But I need his help to get  over the loss of my child and move on … to start over."

"You don't get it, do you? This depression you're suffering from isn't  just the baby. It's everything. You've never dealt with any of it. As  soon as you started to feel better, you stopped going to counseling. It  doesn't work that way. Dr. Greiner knows what he's doing. He's a  professional. If he thinks you should talk about your mom, there's a  reason. And that reason is because you've never faced it. You've never  come to terms with what happened between the two of you, and you've  never gotten over what that asshole did to you."

Gabi covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "I can't." Her  words might've been muffled, but I heard them as if she spoke them  directly into my ear. "I can't go through that again. I wish it never  happened."