Endless Love by Bianca Borell

Chapter Thirty-Seven

BRIA

We settle into a routine. Every day we watch Quinn become weaker and weaker, and the pain in my chest expands wider and wider. Every night Damien makes love to me and I forget about the world outside for a little while.

It’s how I survive the pain and how, ultimately, I will survive the loss. I prepare myself for the inevitable with Damien at my side, sewing myself together as the uselessness tears at my insides.

I hate how death hangs in the air. After five days teetering on the edge, its shadow looms ominously. That evening Alex and I don’t leave the hospital. Damien and Sophia let us have one more night, just the three of us.

Alex steps out of the room in search of coffee after laughing long and hard, reminiscing about our time together. The end may be close, but we fight it back with laughter.

“Bria, promise me something, will you?” Quinn asks.

I nod, fighting back the tears and losing.

“Take care of yourself and live a long and happy life. Don’t cry over things you can’t change. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’m proud of you, so very proud.”

“I promise.” I wipe the tears away and force my lips into a smile.

“Dry your tears and give me that bright smile I have always loved on you,” he says, and with a trembling and weak hand, he touches my heart. “You can find me right in there.”

I close my eyes, another traitorous tear slipping down my cheek.

“I saw the signs. But I thought I was imagining things, and I pushed them away. I feel so guilty.” He half smiles and squeezes my hand.

“There’s no guilt, my dear. You were always adamant in fixing broken things, but some things are beyond repair, and you have to accept it.”

“But you never allowed me the same, Dad.”

Alex walks in, passing me a cup, and the hot liquid soothes my raw throat. Quinn takes Alex’s and my hand in his and looks from one to the other.

“You’ve cried enough. I want you both to stop and instead take care of each other. Promise me.”

We nod like obedient little children.

“Don’t let the pain break you. You’re allowed to grieve but find it in you to overcome it.”

With every minute, his breath becomes uneven, and we both wait, dreading the moment his weak body will still for good. He falls asleep as Alex and I hold his hands and watch him as he rests.

Hours later, he opens his eyes once more. In my heart, I know this will be the last time I see his warm eyes and hear his voice.

“I love you both so very much.”

Quinn doesn’t hear us saying it back. His heart slows to a stop. The only sound in the room is the machine drawing a flat line. He’s gone. We don’t cry, we just keep holding his hands until the doctor steps inside and says his condolences. The nurses clear the room while we hold each other in silence until Damien and Sophia rush inside, pulling us out of our trance. Only then do we end our embrace.

A few days later, we fly to the States where we bury him beside his beloved wife.

Autumn colors paint New York, fall drawing a vivid image of loss in yellows, browns, and reds clinging on the leaves. It is the cycle of life—we are born, we live, if we’re lucky we love, and then we die. The end and the beginning seem worthless, only the span connecting the two is relevant. What we do with the time we have is on us. We decide if we exist, survive, or live brightly enough to create memories to defy the ticking clock of time.

***

Christmas comes and goes while Alex and I adjust and adapt to a life without Quinn. Damien travels back and forth between New York and Zürich, overseeing both the company and checking the construction of our home. Meanwhile, I stay in the apartment under Alex’s as I’m not ready to leave him. We preserve Quinn’s legacy and help each other through the grief. I question how I will be able to juggle two positions in two companies, but work calms me. Sophia leads the American division, never stopping as if she must push herself further. For what, I still try to figure out.

My heart heals both physically and emotionally over Quinn’s loss. The doctor confirms my heart is again stable, and relief transforms Damien’s features. It’s now I realize how he fought to hide the distress of the last months.

Today is the first day in months I wake up smiling, my happiness returning in small doses. I stretch and rise to my feet and walk to the kitchen. I wrap my arms around his naked torso, trailing kisses over his back, showing him my endless love for him and all my appreciation for how understanding he has been these last months.

“I made breakfast, baby.”

He still treats me like I’m fragile. I conclude it’s something he can’t stop. The smell of eggs and bacon fills the air. I scrunch my nose. The sudden surge of nausea overwhelms me. I bolt toward the bathroom, holding my middle, and hug the toilet, emptying my stomach. Damien yanks the door open, his eyes narrowing at me, worry marring his features.

“Don’t worry, I might have caught something.” I wave it off, but Damien insists.

“Shall I call a doctor?”

“No need. I’m better already.”

Back in the kitchen, I eat half a croissant and throw it up a few minutes later. I don’t understand my body’s reaction. I try to remember if I ever felt like this and freeze. It hits me, the only rational conclusion is I’m pregnant, and everything comes crashing down.

I never took another birth control pill after we ended our honeymoon, and my period didn’t come this month. I’m tired most of the time and nauseous, but it never crossed my mind I could be pregnant. With Quinn’s death, I was too engrossed in making the void he left in my life feel bearable.

Hope builds inside me. I dress in a haze and fly out the door when Damien stops me with his question.

“Bria, what are you doing?”

“I’ll be right back. I forgot something.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you,” he says and strides to me, but I smile over my shoulder.

“No need.”

“What’s wrong?”

His question rings with frustration, but I take the elevator and enter the first drugstore on the corner and buy three pregnancy tests.

Please, let it be positive.

Giddiness bubbles inside me, shoving away any thoughts of how Damien will literally lose it if I’m pregnant. When I step inside the apartment, he waits with his arms crossed and his back at the window. His eyes demand an answer to my behavior, but I slide through the living room and close myself in the bathroom. Damien paces the floor, firing a hundred questions at me, while I sit on the toilet, dangling a leg in the air, fidgeting. My eyes trail from one pregnancy test to the next, hoping, dreaming, forever wishing. When the display changes into “you’re pregnant” I jump up and squeal. He yanks the door open and storms inside.

“Baby, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

I freeze with the pregnancy test in my hand. Damien notices it, a grim shadow of comprehension crosses his face, but still asks, “What’s that?”

“It’s . . . well . . .”

He runs his hands through his hair, cussing.

“When was the last time you had your period?”

“Before our honeymoon.”

His back hits the wall, and I stare at his chest, avoiding his eyes, trying to understand what I feel as he interrogates me.

“Did you or did you not take your pill?”

I raise my hands and turn my back at him, closing my eyes.

“I forgot, Damien. It wasn’t on purpose . . . There was just so much going on with Quinn’s hospitalization, then his death and coping.”

“Yet, when you took your heart medicine every day, you didn’t think to take your pill?” Frustration and anger mix in his voice.

“I must have forgotten the pack on the island and then . . . with everything that happened . . . I’m sorry.” I half stammer, but as I say it, I realize I’m not sorry. Resolve sizzles inside me as I sway on my heels and poke him in the chest. “Actually, I’m not sorry. I am not sorry at all.” He sighs and drags a hand down his face.

“Is that a pregnancy test?”

“Yes.”

“What does it say?” he asks through a gulp, sheer terror etched in his eyes.

“I’m pregnant. Congratulations, you’re gonna be a daddy!” He drags a lungful of air, shutting his eyes.

“Fuck.”

“Yes, that is how babies are made.”

He pulls at his hair and storms away while I drop down on the toilet seat. The front door opens and shuts behind him. I rest my cheek in my hand, staring into nothingness.

I scramble up and walk to over to Alex’s. The last months bound us together even more. We will forever be a family. One dark night, he confided in me about him and Liam, their time as they gathered, sold, and used intel. They played power games with people from leading businessmen to political figures, changing the game if needed. Always behind the scenes, building an operation of sellers and buyers, all high-profile contacts.

I let myself in and step inside his home office, finding him immersed in his work and knock. He lifts his gaze from the desktop and shoots up from his chair.

“Bria, what is it?”

I show him the stick, and realization dawns on him as he drops back in his chair, scratching his chin.

“You’re pregnant.”

“Congratulations, you’re going to be an uncle.”

His mouth hangs, and he says, “I guess Damien knows?”

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

I raise my shoulders and say, “Don’t know.”

“He didn’t react as you expected, then?”

My head drops, and I fidget with the stick in my hands.

“He reacted worse than I expected. You should have seen his face. Accusatory, like I did it on purpose.”

I sniffle as Alex rises and pulls me to him in a hug. Even if he thinks the same as Damien, he’s offering me the comfort I need instead.

“Let’s make a call and be sure.”

An hour later, we sit in the waiting room of a private obstetrician’s office. Alex holds my hand as I try to calm my breathing while I dangle a leg over the other. My phone rings and Sophia deafens me with her happy screams.

“Is it true? I’m going to be an aunt?”

The doctor calls my name, and I hand my phone to Alex.

“Mrs. du Sky, I’m Dr. Michelle Hay. Please have a seat and tell me why you’re here today.”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“Did you take a test?”

“Three actually, and they all turned positive.” She hands me a urine cup, and when I come back, she instructs me, “Please lie down while I do an ultrasound.”

Only minutes later, she confirms I’m pregnant in the seventh week. Seeing and hearing the heartbeat is life altering. My hand covers my mouth, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. Two minutes later, she congratulates me on expecting twins, and my mouth drops open as I stare at her in shock.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, look for yourself.”

She points at the screen, but all I see are two dots.

“If the pregnancy develops with no complications, the due date would be the end of October, beginning of November. Babies seldom arrive on the date we expect, especially multiples.”

I blink from the screen to her, and then for the first time in my life, I believe in something I can’t explain, a surreal sign perhaps that Quinn is still here looking out for me and loving me by granting me this wonder in my life.

“Mrs. du Sky, I’d like to draw some blood for a few more tests. Afterward, you’re free to go.”

“Is something wrong with the babies?”

A wave of worry like nothing I experienced before holds me in its grip, and I realize I am a mommy- to-be.

“It seems like a normal pregnancy, they are just the typical blood tests, but your blood pressure is too high. This worries me.”

“I had heart surgery and I’m on strict medication. Could it affect the babies?”

I fill her in on my medical history, telling her about the surgery and what medications I take. When I finish, she offers a reassuring smile.

“I’d recommend a C-section when the time comes. First, talk with your doctor, but any medication has the potential to harm a baby.”

I thank her, and with the pictures of my tiny black dots, I leave her office. I find Alex in the waiting room. He’s still on the phone, his jaw twitching, hand waving in irritation. I hope he and Sophia are all right.

“What did she say?” he asks, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“I’m pregnant and . . .”

“And what, Bria?” His question rings with worry, and he’s halfway in an upright position when I mutter.

“I’m having twins.” He drops back and scratches his chin.

“Twins, are you sure?”

“She just confirmed it, Alex.”

Alex returns the phone to his ear and says, “Congratulations, you stubborn ass, you’re having twins. You could have been here in person, but no, you’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself instead of being here for your wife and babies.”

He hangs up, lifts me off the ground with his embrace. I’m crazy happy. He calls Sophia right away, and her screams pierce our eardrums for the second time.

I place my hands over my belly and let the feeling of absolute love invade me. We reach Alex’s place and Sophia rushes to us. She cries when I show her the picture of my two miracles.

I also call Filip, who keeps repeating, “I’m going to be an uncle.”

I don’t call our parents yet because I want to tell them at the same time in person.

Hours later, I still haven’t heard from Damien. I return to our apartment and I let the view of a snow-coated Central Park lull me into dreaming of my babies.

I expected he’d react as he did, but it still hurts, and I breathe through my rising anger at him. At last, the door clicks open. His steps falter and stop at the edge of our bed, but I pretend to sleep.

It’s dark outside and inside.