“No. You don’t blame yourself. Ever.”
“Why not? It started with my decision, didn’t it? But it’s not about blame. It’s more about forgiveness.” She turned to face him and touched his arm. “Forgiving yourself is the hardest part, but I’ve learned it’s the most important.”
“You don’t have anything to forgi—”
“Just listen to me. For once, listen to your little sister. I need you to let it go.”
He knew she was right. Knew if he wanted a chance with Mia, he had to figure out a way. He was terrified he didn’t know how to do that. That the guilt was so deeply embedded inside him he’d never shake it. Until now, he hadn’t really wanted to.
A moment passed before Hannah spoke again. “You still love her,” she said softly.
His chest expanded painfully with a deep breath. He didn’t have the energy or the will to deny it. “I never stopped. What? Don’t look so shocked. I can be honest about my feelings.”
Hannah gave him a soft smile that turned serious. “I love you both, but…”
“But what?”
“But maybe… and it hurts me to say this, but… I haven’t known about the baby she adopted for very long, she didn’t talk about it with me, but she’s hurting, Nick. I don’t think either of us knows how much. I don’t want her to hurt even more.”
God, neither did he.
“I’m not saying you are or you will. I just—”
“No. I get it.” Mia was like the limb he’d cut off. Unable to forgive himself. Unable to be happy. And what good was it doing anyone?
“I’m sorry. Now I feel like I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Don’t worry.” He kissed the top of her head and stood. “I’ll take care of Mia.”
Chapter 19
IT WAS NEARLY AUGUST when Mia went to her pantry and got out the tool box, the same small black container her father had sent her off to college with. A screwdriver in one hand, an Allen wrench in the other, she moved down the hall and stopped in the open doorway of Savannah’s nursery. No. Not a nursery. She needed to stop thinking of it that way.
She’d meant what she said to Abby, she wanted her to have the crib. Better for it to be used by someone who needed it. If it had taken her this long to get around to it, that was only because she’d been busy. She scowled at her own lie, standing in the doorway, taking in the room.
Even though she had to pass it several times a day, she hadn’t gone inside in over a week. She’d looked but hadn’t entered. She knew she was building it up, making it harder, as if the space held a sadness that had the power to strangle her.
She took one step, a few more, and knelt beside the crib. Her heart was breaking all over again. Her gaze traced over the lines of beautiful brown wood, the bar that lowered with springs underneath, and the base that held the mattress. She tried to remember the order of putting it together so she could reverse the action. It seemed like a bigger task now that she was on the floor, tools in hand.
As she fought to loosen the screws, Nick and what ifs assaulted her. What if it was their house? Their nursery? Not like she hadn’t imagined that a hundred times in the years they were together, but it was always in the future. She’d needed to accomplish something, become a surgeon, make her parents proud. Now her parents were dead, and gone and what difference did it make?
She and Nick hadn’t had as much time as they’d thought they would. A life lesson, she supposed. There were no guarantees. “Savor the moment,” she whispered, then huffed at the hollow-sounding words from a woman with enough regret to fill an ocean.
Ten years ago, she’d tried to convince herself that what she’d felt for Nick was too big, too deep to be healthy. The way her heart had squeezed almost painfully when he smiled at her with those brooding brown eyes. She’d become too dependent on him. The way he looked at her after a day at the hospital and just knew that she’d lost a patient. The way he’d pull her into his arms, and within minutes of being held by Nick, she’d feel better. She’d feel right again.
She’d gone from a girl feeling her first love to a woman who’d melded every part of herself to a man. And then he was gone.
She’d been lost after that. Losing him and the way they had broken had almost killed her. It hadn’t been a sudden death, more like a terminal illness. Slow. Painful. He’d been her world, and she’d been his. Though the years since had shaken her certainty on that. Maybe it had somehow been over for him even before Hannah went missing. She tried to think back, to remember every detail. She must have missed something. What had been said that last morning before everything fell apart, or not said? Had he been pulling away before that?