“You don’t have to do that," he denied immediately, tone fierce enough that it confirmed I was doing the right thing. "Aidan would look after him.”
I had to snort. “Aidan and Savannah are the least parental people I know. He might be his godfather, but still.”
“Aela could—”
Shaking my head, I told him, “He doesn’t know her as well as he does Lena.” She babysat, but most of that time was when he was asleep so it wasn’t like he knew her better. “Lena is the sensible choice.”
Sure, being sensible sucked for me, but acting as if Lena weren’t there wasn’t going to help matters.
She’d done what she’d done.
She’d burned a bridge between us that could never be fixed.
But that was on her. Not me. Not Finn. And certainly not Jake.
“I’m sorry,” Finn whispered.
The broken words snagged my attention. I could have been sarcastic, asked him what he’d done this time, but I just didn’t have the energy to resent him right now.
Not when seeing him sitting there, my hand in his, looking as broken as I felt, talking about the daughter we’d never see, reminded me of who he was.Whathe was.
Mine.
For better or worse.
In sickness and in health.
So, instead of being resentful and bitchy, I asked, “Why?”
“For Imogen. For Callum. For letting Jake think of Lena that way.” He blew out a breath. “For letting him love her. For everything.”
I got where he was coming from, but it made me feel ridiculously small.
My son was loved—was that such a crime?
Yet…
I stared down at my lap as a different kind of pain whispered through me.
Lena was the only grandmother he’d ever knowbecauseshe had been the one who'd taken away Jake’s other grandmother.
Finn tugged on my hand and broke my woozy attention span. “I love you, Aoife.”
My mouth trembled as I pressed my other hand to my stomach. “Even though—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Forever,” he grated out. “Nothing you could do would stop me from loving you, sweetheart. You’re not the sinner in this marriage. I fucking am.”
I wasn’t a saint, but by comparison to him, I knew I was. But I didn’t say that either.
It all seemed so fucking futile.
Hating him, resenting him, being bitter, none of it brought Imogen back, did it?
None of it brought back my baby.
My body was a maze of pain and discomfort, but that glaring emptiness where life had once blossomed was something I’d never forget.
I’d endured this several times now, several times we’d named our children who’d never see the light of day.