The One Adored (The One Trilogy Book 3) (4 page)

My body has healed but my mind is a never ending sea of angry waves that whips around inside me, continually reminding me of what I’ve lost, with cold, crashing clarity. Things could have been so different right now, with so much to look forward to. New life and promises of an extension of our family.

Instead I feel so utterly empty.

I’ve gone through so many stages I’m in a whirlwind right now, not knowing how I feel and where I am. They say denial comes first and boy was that true for me. Anger, was certainly next, mixed with fluctuating moods and frustration. I’d totally bypassed the bargaining stage, but slumped heavily within the depression stage for a week or so, before framing myself to focus on what I
did have
so I could move forward to accept what had happened to me. Those five stages of grief have been like mountains to climb and continue to challenge me daily. I need to be strong for everyone but inside I am weak.

I have to reiterate to myself that I am lucky to be alive - or so I’ve been told on many occasions by well-meaning friends, family and medical experts. I should be embracing my mortality and grabbing it with both hands and yet over the past weeks I’ve found it hard to even drag my arse out of bed and into fresh pyjamas.
 

One thing that has fuelled my recovery has been Finn, my beautiful 4-year-old son, so full of life and fun, he draws a smile from my lips, no matter my fog; he has been my joy but also a painful reminder of what could have been.

Sebastian, who had worked tirelessly and sometimes bombastically behind the scenes to ensure that I did
nothing
but rest and recuperate has taken his lead from my body language, and I am fully aware that I’ve pushed him away both mentally and physically. I couldn’t help it, I felt and still do feel responsible for what had occurred.

Seb had moved in with Finn and I for four weeks, upon my release from Lords Hospital. The first week I don’t remember much as I’d spent most of it bed-ridden but by the second week, I was able to join Finn and Seb downstairs on the sofa for ‘teas-on-knees’ and movie marathons and we gradually fell into a semi-pattern of medication, mealtimes, afternoon naps, physiotherapy and hospital appointments. Sebastian was wonderful with Finn and they bonded even more than ever, his support unwavering but the ensuing weeks became stifled and the air thick with unsaid emotions. I felt like we’d taken a huge step backwards after becoming so tight, before the crash; now we felt further apart than ever.
 

Sebastian operated his business from my house - working in my office, with Nathan his brother popping in each day for a update meeting. He went from being CEO of a multi-million Construction Company to cooking, cleaning, and liaising with the family about all of Finn’s Crèche and club commitments, whilst I vegetated like some useless article - it was all exceedingly frustrating. I’d never felt to useless and less in control of my life.
 

My mum had been majorly impressed with his potential husbandly duties - not that any of the family knew about the proposal. I’d asked Sebastian not to mention it to anyone until I felt completely healed. He had appeared surprised at the time but seemed to understand that I needed to wait and had respected my wishes.
 

To be honest I needed to think - still do. Now that my head is clearer, I’m not sure if Seb proposed out of a sense of duty or not? Does he want to marry me because he feels guilty for what I went through - it did come out of nowhere and we’d only just got together?
 

But inwardly I
know
Sebastian and he doesn’t do anything unless
he
wants to and I know that has to mean something. I just can’t seem to see things clearly whilst I come to terms with our loss.

I said YES though. You WANT to marry him. You’ve known each other FOREVER and he IS, THE ONE, stop fucking about and over thinking things and enjoy the fact that this gorgeous man has declared his undying love for you and wants to be tied to you for frigging ETERNITY.

I do love him, more than ever, so much my heart aches, when I’m not with him, which is why when the Consultant told me that I may not have more children after the accident, I had to consider all options and one of those is still flitting around like a frantic butterfly in my skull - if I love him, should I set him free?

He wants kids and I may not have any more. I’ve just lost our baby - we’ve still not dealt with those emotions and I know its devastated him. He’s dealt with it like many men do in these situations, by throwing himself into me, my needs and work. And of course finding the bastard that did this to us.
 

I’ve handled it by talking to Abby, Suze, my mum, basically anyone but the one person I need to - I don’t want him seeing me weak. He’s already seen me weak and I hate it. I’ve basically pushed the one person away that I want at my side.

I know he’s heard my tears, despite my attempts to subdue them but when he’s entered the bedroom, I’ve managed to brave a smile or feign sleep. It has meant that our physical contact has lessened and I hate it. Hate that I’m doing it to us and I can’t seem to stop it; can’t stop pushing him away.

Our relationship was built on friendship, it became about hot sex, seriously hot sex, love and friendship but then that hot sex resulted in something wonderful being taken from me.
 

Do I blame him?
 

No - no I don’t. I blame the freak that ran me off the road. But I blame myself for the huge divide between us now.
 

God, I miss his touch and the sound of his deep sexy laugh.
 

I also miss the sound of my own laugh.
 

I’ve just had my six week check-up after the surgery and my surgeon has given me the all clear to return to work and driving. I can also resume all other physical duties, this included sex. The latter makes me both nervous and excited. He’d also discussed contraception with me, despite the chance of potential infertility - it would cover me for the small chance of pregnancy and after much consideration I’d had a Mirena coil inserted. My consultant advised that it would also assist me with my endometriosis pain, and I liked the idea of no more condoms.
 

Until that moment I don’t think I’d realised how much I’d missed sex. Mentally the miscarriage has ravished me but physically I ached for him and Seb and I
need
that connection - we are no good without it - that contact. But how do I broach the subject when he hasn’t come near me in weeks? We haven’t even shared a bed in case he rolled into me and caused me pain.

Enough is enough.
 

I’ve wallowed, healed physically and it will take time to heal emotionally and mentally but I can’t do this without him anymore, without his body, touch, hands, cock, mouth and surely he feels the same?
 

If he still wants me after all this, then I need to buck-up and move forward or the bastard who did this to us is going to win and I can’t ever let that happen. If he loves me enough to risk the fact that we may not have another child together then I’ll marry him; we have Finn and I know he adores him - I can’t martyr myself like this and I have to allow Sebastian to make his own decisions, I can’t make them for him.
 

*******

I head into Lu’s room to kiss her goodnight before I make my way up to the guest-room - alone. Sliding gingerly onto the bed, I spend a moment watching her sleeping, curled and innocent and I’m reminded for the zillionth time how close I came to losing her, how close I came to losing any chance of a future. Without her I'm nothing.
 

    
She is my everything.
 

    
Since I collected her from Lords’ Hospital two weeks after the accident, and immediately moved into Rose Avenue with her and Finn, she’d withdrawn from me and I could feel her slipping further and further away from my grasp - not enough to make others aware of a problem but I knew. I knew her inside and out - she was building barriers.

    
The loss of the baby had hit her hard and she was dealing with it by disappearing inside her armoured shell and putting on a brave face, complete with lipgloss and mascara and a bright smile that didn’t reach her dulled green eyes. I knew better. Her sparkle had dimmed and I am determined to re-light it again. Determined to regain her spirit and fight for us; determined to find the bastard that did this and put him in hell.
 

    
The police had visited Lu and I in the hospital on several occasions in the days after her surgery to take more detailed statements from her regarding the accident. Lu had discussed with a detective about her concerns about being watched. She’d filled out a report with them but with no evidence to go on, no witnesses, emails, phone messages, CCTV, or gifts of any kind, the police were limited as to what they could do. With no definitive suspect, they couldn’t make an arrest. I believed Lu completely - supported her entirely, but all we had were her instincts at that time and some possible personal missing items. We were advised to keep a diary for future episodes, detailing times, to show that this was not an isolated incident and the police would continue to search for the driver and his car. In the detective’s experience, cases like these either fizzled out or escalated but they would investigate all potential lines of enquiry. It didn’t appease my concerns one iota. I wasn’t prepared to take any risks and something in my gut told me that this was odd. Lu was not an overly anxious woman, nor did she over dramatise situations, and now with this car chase I wasn’t prepared to take any chances.
 

    
Ralph was enlisted, the day Lu left Lords general, to be my eyes and ears and watch over her for me. I’d also called a mate of mine Enzo Marchetti, who ran a private investigator firm, to look into things further - with not much to go on, it made his job tough but he was the best and I trusted him like a brother.

    
Unfortunately my latest meeting with Nathan meant I was going to have to go handle my latest project in person, in France. I had worked from Lu’s house for the past six weeks and managed to fend off projects and stay in the country to ensure I was a constant, for the woman I love and my godson, who I now consider my own boy - couldn’t leave him if I’d wanted to - he had burrowed deep down in my heart and under my skin. I loved him like my own blood. Now, I have to leave our domestic bubble and get back to reality but I’m hoping that the distance may give us both some clarity and the knowledge that they would be watched over by Ralph kept me calm.

    
Lu had seen her consultant and been given the all clear, which was another bonus. She had a second check-up in a month but they were happy with her and the relief I felt was immense. I just wish they could wave a magic wand and take her pain away. I too was grieving for our loss - each day was tough but
I’d
been able to throw myself into busying myself with caring for Lu, Finn and work.
Lu
, had had hours of recovery time, in bed to contemplate. I knew that she had found it tremendously difficult to relinquish her tight rein on control and felt like her being so dependent on me and everyone else who’d supported us, was a sign of weakness.
 

    
I’m worried that the crack that has developed between us, during the past few weeks is going to become an fully fledged earthquake if I’m abroad and not able to save us, but I’d put off work for too long, already turned down commitments in Dubai and Scotland over the past fortnight in favour of my boyfriend duties. Tomorrow, I’ll tell her that I’m leaving for a week and maybe the space will do us both good.
 

    
Boyfriend. Such as simple word. A word I’d never wanted to really
own
or ever needed to hear from previous women’s lips but when Lu had branded me with it, my insides had warmed. It had cemented us in a way I hadn’t realised I wanted - taken us from friends to lovers, to a couple, combining the two. Now, the word just fucking irritated the hell out of me. I was no longer her bloody boyfriend; I was her fiancée, and I wanted to scream it to the world, tell everyone she was mine, at last.