Because I dragged us to that club, in a span of two short days I lost my baby and nearly lost everyone else who matters to me.

The tears that come feel like blood squeezed out of my soul. Each drop burns through my tear ducts, the sounds bursting out of my throat hoarse and ugly. My new world isn’t just dark; it’s black, utterly without hope.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I attempt to curl into a ball, to make myself as small as possible to keep the pain from exploding outward, but Julian doesn’t let me. Wrapping his arms around me, he holds me as I break apart, his big body warming me as he strokes my back and whispers into my hair that we survived, that everything will be all right and we’ll soon go back to normal… The low, deep sound of his voice surrounds me, filling my ears until I can’t help but listen, the words providing comfort despite my awareness of their falseness.

I don’t know how long I cry like this, but eventually the worst of the pain ebbs, and I become cognizant of Julian’s touch, of his enormous strength. His embrace, once my prison, is now my salvation, keeping me from drowning in despair.

As my tears ease, I become aware that I’m holding him just as tightly as he’s gripping me, and that he also seems to derive comfort from my touch. He’s consoling me, but I’m consoling him in return—and somehow that fact lessens my agony, lifting some of the dark fog pressing down on me.

He’s held me while I cried before, but never like this. Directly or indirectly, he’s always been the cause of my tears. We haven’t been united in our pain before, have never gone through joint agony. The closest we’ve come to experiencing loss together was Beth’s gruesome death, but even then, we didn’t have a chance to mourn together. After the warehouse explosion, I mourned Beth and Julian on my own, and by the time he came back for me, there was more anger than grief within me.

This time, it’s different. My loss is his loss. More his loss, in fact, since he wanted this child from the very beginning. The tiny life that was growing within me—the one he guarded so fiercely—is gone, and I can’t even imagine how Julian must feel.

How much he must hate me for what I’ve done.

The thought shatters me again, but this time, I manage to hold the agony in. I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but for now, he’s comforting me, and I’m selfish enough to accept it, to rely on his strength to get me through this.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, I burrow closer to my husband, listening to the strong, steady beating of his heart.

Even if Julian hates me now, I need him.

I need him too much to ever let him go.

38

Julian

As Nora’s breathing slows and evens out, her body relaxes against mine. An occasional shudder still ripples through her, but even that stops as she sinks deeper into sleep.