“I guess. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. Blake, telling those girls their daddy wasn’t coming back – to this day I don’t know how I did it, but they were strong too, and I guess that gave me strength. I think that’s why we’re all so close. Going through something like that together, well – it makes you really grasp how important your life is,” I say to him, shrugging my shoulders.

Blake seems to hesitate for a second. I know what’s going through his head before he even asks it, and I’m prepared for it.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened that day? The day Derek died?”

Seeing as though I’ve already met my emotional breakdown quota over the last couple of days, I actually feel okay sharing this piece of my life with him. I find myself wanting to share it with him, like, he needs to know what happened that day in order to really know me. Because of this, I nod my head yes, grab his hand, and begin to tell him my story.

He sits quietly as I tell him about the phone call to the office. I tell him how Harlow drove me to Round Rock and about both of us trying to hold it together. Next, I tell him about seeing the accident on the way – his eyes widen in surprise when I describe to him the state of Derek’s car as it lay alongside the highway. I go into detail about Derek’s appearance when I first saw him in the hospital and how badly he was hurt. Finally, I tell him exactly what happened when Derek passed.

He continues to hold my hand, squeezing it to help give me the strength to get through the more difficult parts. And I squeeze his hand back, because I have to keep in mind that although Derek was my husband, he was also Blake’s friend. And as difficult as it is for me to relive that day, it’s probably just as difficult for Blake to hear. Coming to the end of my story, I find my hand contract around Blake’s rather tightly. As I lessen the hold, I tilt my head, shrug my shoulders, and smile a sad smile.

“Then I came home and had to tell the girls that he was gone. That he had an accident and he wouldn’t be coming home.”

Blake continues holding my hand. “What did you tell them? I mean, how did you explain something like that to your children?”

I shrug my shoulders again. “Well, I explained to them about death, about Heaven, and about guardian angels…because I believe that Derek watches over us to this day. I made sure to tell them that every single bit of him still lived through them. How incredibly blessed they were to have been able to know and understand what a wonderful daddy he was. I let them know that they were so lucky compared to Rylie. She was so young; she wouldn’t have many memories of him – if any. But they did. I told them that they should hold on tightly to those memories and remember how much he loved them. Remember how he would play horsey on the floor with them, and wrestle, and carry them on his shoulders when taking them to bed. I let them know it was okay to laugh when they remember his silly faces, his tickles, and how he would play Big Bad Wolf or zombie while chasing them around the house.”

I find myself smiling as I relay this part to Blake. Derek was a really good zombie. He kinda creeped me out actually.

Blake smiles back and nods his head, encouraging me to go on. He stays silent, allowing me as much time as I need to speak.

“I told them they should smile when they remember his hugs and his kisses, how he would throw them up in the air as high as could, and how he would often fall asleep with them in their bed reading their favorite bedtime stories. I wanted them to be proud of him and to never be ashamed that they missed him. I encouraged them to cry as much as they needed to cry and to talk when they needed to talk. I wanted them to know that even though they lost him, I would always be there for them, to help them. But I didn’t really set a great example in the beginning.”

I sigh heavily. This part of my life was the most painful to talk about.

“It wasn’t easy by any means, Blake. There were some days I couldn’t get out of bed. As much as I love my girls, I was just so sad. So sad I can’t even put it into words. Completely broken. The pain in my chest was unbearable some days, like my insides were completely hollowed out. Some days I couldn’t breathe, some days I would cry all day long, and some days…I couldn’t do anything but sit there in my bed because my body was so physically exhausted from the grief. I would just lay there and think about Derek. Questioning how in the world I was supposed to make it without him. He was my life for so long, I didn’t know how to live it or even function without him. Thank God for Harlow and Nancy. They took turns making sure the girls were okay while I dealt with everything. They cooked for them, bathed them, read to them, got them up in the morning, took them to school. They did everything they could to make sure my girls were completely taken care of while I took the time I needed to grieve. I mean, some days were okay, but some days were – well…they were just really bad.”

I look down at my hand because it’s tingling and I realize that Blake’s squeezing my hand so tightly, he’s completely cut off the circulation in my fingers. When I glance back to his face, I find his eyes wandering all over mine. Surprisingly, for once, it’s not the look of sympathy that I have grown to hate over the last three years. His expression is one of such compassion and tenderness that I catch myself holding my breath.

But I can also tell he’s upset about something. The look on his face isn’t quite matching up with the death grip he has on my hand.

“Blake, I’m okay now,” I say with a smile because, honestly, I’m completely dumbfounded by his reaction. I can’t help but find it humorous. I look back down at my hand. He follows my gaze and when he sees my purple fingers, he immediately lets go. I wiggle my fingers to get the circulation going again.

“I only have one good hand left, Blake, please be careful with it,” I say with a chuckle.

Before I have a chance to say anything else, he’s up off the couch, pacing back and forth through the living room, raking his hand through his hair. He seems extremely aggravated about something. What the hell just happened in the last couple of seconds?

I stand up and use my body to block his path. He finally stops pacing.

“What is wrong with you? What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”

“It’s just I...Alex...”

I put my palm flat on his chest. I feel his heart beating rapidly. “Blake, I’m fine. I promise. What’s going on with you?”

He looks away and I move my face into the path of his gaze. “Blake. What is it?”

“I should have been here,” he says through his teeth.

I hold his stare. “What? You should have been where?”

“I should have been here, with you,” he says emphatically, pointing towards the floor. “I should have been here, Alex. To help you. To make sure you were okay. To protect you. But I wasn’t. And you were here, all by yourself. Handling it all by yourself. Dealing all by yourself. All because I couldn’t come back here. Because I was scared to come back; scared I couldn’t face what was waiting for me here. Scared, Alex,” he says a little louder, but catches it and lowers his voice. “Scared. While you were dealing with this shit, I was hiding in Colorado. Jesus, that kills me.”

I move my other hand up to his chest. It’s throbbing almost in time with the rapid beating of his heart. “Blake, that’s ridiculous. There’s nothing you could’ve done. I had Harlow and Nancy. And I made it through, eventually. It just took a while. I’m okay now.”

I reach up and put my hand on his face. I pull it towards mine until our eyes meet. “Look at me, Blake. I. Am. Fine. And with the way that I treated you...you had no reason to come back here to help me with anything. I don’t blame you, so stop blaming yourself.”