The Good Wife(133)
Stupid boys with their stupid teenage testosterone that made them feel immortal. But they weren’t immortal. They were just kids . . . kids who played baseball and air guitar and played Xbox half through the night. Boys proud of their straggly stubble and their deepening voices and the fact that they now towered over their mothers . . .
Boys. Love. Life. Love. Boys. Dying. Boys.
“I’ll make it through this, I will,” Lauren whispered, exhaling again, panting, letting the pain out. Just like when she was in labor and had to breathe through the pain. Breathe out. Blow it out. Don’t hold it in where it’ll burn like the fire that swept through the car, taking her boy.
Let it go, let it go, let it go. She just had to keep working through the grief so one day she could remember the joy. Blake had been her joy. Blake wasn’t the consequence of sin, but a gift. Being his mom had been the ultimate privilege.
Remember that. Remember the good.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Chris padded into the kitchen in nothing but baggy gray sweatpants that were practically falling off his hip bones. She knew he’d only just pulled them on. He always slept naked.
Chris didn’t speak, but came to her, and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.
She slipped her arms around him and held tight. “You’re so warm,” she whispered.
“You did have one of those dreams,” he said, his voice deep and raspy and so unbearably sexy.
She nodded and shivered, still sad and chilled.
If only she could see Blake one more time.
Just one more time to tuck him in. Tell him she loved him.
That’s all she wanted. All she needed. Because this time she’d remember everything about him—his smell, his warmth, his skin.
Lauren hugged Chris tighter, her body curving against his, her throat squeezing closed with unspeakable grief.
If God would give her one last chance to say good-bye, she’d never ask for anything again.
If God would—
“It will get easier,” Chris murmured, kissing the top of her head, then her temple, and down to her cheek.
She nodded against him, needing to believe him.
“Come on, darlin’,” he said gently. “Come with me. Let’s go back to bed.”
She let him lead her back to his giant bed with its stunning view, but once she was under the covers, Lauren couldn’t sleep, and she didn’t think Chris was sleeping either.
She knew he wasn’t sleeping when he began rubbing her back, making circles between her shoulder blades, and then higher over the little bones Blake had always called her chicken wings.
“I miss him,” she said, her voice so soft it was more like a hiccup of sound.
“Of course you do. “
“He was so good. He deserved better. More.”
“You were robbed,” Chris said. “Both of you.”
“You would have liked him,” she said thickly. “And he would have loved you.”
“I wish I could have met him.”
“Me, too.”
As he rubbed her back, her thoughts drifted, going to a distant place where she and Chris and Blake lived together, had a life together . . .
In her fantasy it all worked. It was good.
Lauren turned to face Chris, the moonlight illuminating his brow, the straight length of his nose, the firm line of his full lips. She leaned close, her finger feathering across his mouth. Beautiful mouth. Beautiful man. “I’m glad you’re part of my life. My life feels good with you in it.”
“I feel the same way.”
She grinned. She couldn’t help it. “I’m glad. I like this . . . us.”
“Me, too.” Chris slid an arm around her and pulled her against him. He kissed her, deeply, making her head spin. “Marry me, baby.”
Lauren jerked her head back. “What?”
“Marry me.”
Suddenly it was hard to breathe. “Seriously?”
“Yes. I’m proposing to you. But if you’d rather wait for me to get down on one knee—”
“No! Yes.”
“So what is it, darlin’? No or yes?”
Lauren knew her past but could see the future, the one she wanted, but she wasn’t sure about Chris. “Before I answer, I have to ask a question.” Her eyes met his, held. “Kids . . . do you want them?”
He was silent a long moment. “Do you? Would you ever have another child?”
“I want to know what you want.”
“And I want to know what you need,” he answered.
Her heart thumped uncomfortably. “It’s hard to imagine replacing Blake.”
“You won’t ever replace him. You can’t. He was your boy. And by all accounts, an amazing boy.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He would have been an amazing man. Not like his dad, though. He had a big heart.” She struggled to smile through her tears. “A heart a lot like yours.”