A Valentine Kiss. Christy McKellen

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      SHE NEEDED TO THINK.

      She couldn’t turn to the usual activities that helped her to do so since they all involved staying in the house with Jordan, so Mila decided to go to the place that always did.

      She grabbed her jacket and walked out into the sunshine that was growing rarer the closer it got to winter. Though the cold air reminded her of the season, it brought a beauty to the vineyard that was underappreciated. Especially from here, she thought, standing atop the slope that overlooked the vineyard, just as she had the previous day with Jordan.

      It felt as if it were a lot longer than that. So much had happened since then. She’d done a lot for the event, yes, but she had also learned a lot about herself. About how much she wanted to look worthy, and how she had sacrificed her relationships in pursuit of that. About how much what people thought about her affected her behaviour—and how she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge that to herself, or to the people who cared about her.

      Perhaps it was because there hadn’t been many people who cared about her when she was growing up. She’d had ten different foster families over her years of being in foster care, and she couldn’t remember even one of them fostering because they actually cared about the children they were looking after.

      It meant that she desperately wanted to feel loved, to feel needed. But it also meant that she didn’t know how to turn to people when she needed them. Her conversation with Lulu had shown her that those were opposing desires, since the people she wanted to feel loved and needed by needed to feel that, too. And, since she struggled to do that, she only succeeded in pushing them away. It was a vicious cycle, and if she was being honest with herself, it was another reason the loss of her baby had broken her.

      When she’d fallen pregnant so quickly, so unexpectedly, she had let herself hope for a family. She was going to have a child—someone who would need her without conditions. Someone who would know that she needed them, too, without her having to say it. That was what family was, wasn’t it?

      But she had also been scared that she wouldn’t be a good mother. And of the way having a baby would change her life. In some ways it had been a remnant of her fears about marriage. Her pregnancy seemed to have sharpened them, causing her to worry that they’d moved too fast.

      So she had clung to her job, working just as hard as she had before she’d fallen pregnant to prove to herself that things wouldn’t change that much. She’d ignored Jordan’s suggestion that she move more slowly, that she take time to adjust to the changes her body and their lives were going through.

      And then she’d fallen down the stairs and her baby had been born prematurely, only surviving for seventeen minutes in the world Mila was supposed to have prepared him for. Her mourning had been part grief at her loss, part guilt at the fact that she hadn’t slowed down. That she’d put her selfish fears first.

      And in her grief she’d realised how unimportant those fears had been. Having a family—having her son—had always been the most important. She’d pushed Jordan, Greg and Lulu away because that realisation had come too late, and she hadn’t wanted to be reminded of how stupid she’d been.

      So she’d locked her hopes for a family away, convincing herself that she could survive without one. And she would cling to that belief so no one would get hurt again because of her. It didn’t matter what Lulu said about second chances and Mila wanting more. Wanting more didn’t matter. Not any more.

      Besides, she and Jordan just weren’t right for each other. She absently rubbed at the ache that throbbed in her chest at the thought as she remembered their interaction earlier. She’d had no idea he was as affected as she was by their baby’s death, and she felt awful about it. She could still see the way the colour had leached from his face when he’d realised Lulu was pregnant, could still remember how erratic his breathing had been.

      It always gave her an objective glimpse into what other people felt when she went through her own episodes, and it wasn’t good. And, though she still felt guilt about it, knowing that he struggled, too, made her feel a little better about how she was coping. It made her feel, for the first time since her life had imploded in front of her, as if she wasn’t alone.

      But that didn’t mean anything other than shared experience, she thought firmly. СКАЧАТЬ