And If You Ask Me, I Will Stay.

Chapter Eight.

Though my iPod had been on shuffle since December and Nicole had dragged me into the bathroom and sat me down to do God knew what to me, I had barely followed along with the songs. The music and lyrics drifted in and out without really sticking; this seemed to be the case with everything lately.

Never in my life had I felt this broken. The pain had never been this intense, not even the first time around.

It had been close to a month since I had been face to face with Declan. He continued to come by for September. I avoided him at all costs; even the thought of seeing him cut me deeply. When I wasn't numb, I was dealing with a pain so crippling that it was a struggle to drag myself out of bed every morning. My only reason for doing so was September.

I felt as if I no longer had a heart, like it had been ripped out in the most brutal way and all that remained was a gaping, festering hole where it should be. And I knew exactly where it was. My heart was with Declan, just has it had been the first time it was broken. God, I missed him. I couldn't even begin to describe the depth of it, even if I wanted to. The pain was worse this time. This time, I had walked away from him. And I couldn't deny the deep seated aching that I felt over his absence. He was so close, yet so out of reach, and it was slowly but surely killing me.

I was aware enough to realize that another song had started, but too out of it to really pay much attention to it. Or maybe I just didn't have the capacity to care anymore.

Emma was perched on the counter, helping her mother with whatever she was doing, humming along with whatever song was playing.

September sat in my lap with my arms caging her against my torso. The eyes I had given her swept over me in the mirror before us. She smiled at my reflection.

"Your hair looks pretty, Momma."

I followed September's line of sight to see what she was complimenting.

Nicole stood behind me, putting the finishing touches on my hair. Ebony locks fell in loose, glossy curls, framing my face in a tame way that only Nicole could pull off. She reached forward and fluffed the curls out gently with a tender smile.

I did my best to return each of their smiles, but my lips felt more like they were twisting into a grimace. Nicole's smile softened. She leaned forward to kiss the crown of my head.

"Missed a spot," December said. I watched through the mirror as she moved to Nicole's side to curl the spot that had gone unnoticed.

The next song started on my iPod and my spine stiffened. The familiar opening for Back To December filled the bathroom. I blinked rapidly, refusing to cry; the day had only just begun.

December reached toward the iPod, but her hand paused halfway there when I began to sing along. My voice was soft, a soprano echo of Taylor Swift's; my eyes were fixated on September's hair. I ran my fingers through it, noticing yet again with a sharp pang that it was the exact color, the exact texture of her father's. September began to sway lightly in my arms. She always loved it when I sang to her, the main reason that I was now.

My eyes fell closed as the bridge came. I sang with a little more volume. Memories of Declan crept into my mind without permission; memories of his gorgeous smile dazzling me, his tanned skin exposed before my eyes, the sound of the laugh that had always been music to my ears, the secure feeling of his arms around me, the heavenly feeling of his lips; they played as if they were a slide show, deepening the heartache I was suffering from.

When I opened my eyes again, September was cuddling up to me, snug in my arms. A faint smile touched my lips. If there was one comfort I had, it was the unconditional love of my daughter.