Quixotic (2)

1

NOTE: This is book 2. The first book is called Impractical. 

More than ten years passed, so why did the thought of her continue to make his heart drop to the bottom of his stomach? He was stuck in second gear, paused with a strong feeling of guilt pulling at his heart. She was gone, and he was still afraid to speak her name.

Exiting his room, all energy was drained from his body as he slumped toward the cluttered shelf at the opposite end of the living room. It was still crowded with the same trinkets and useless paperwork from ten years prior. For years he avoided the shelf in its entirety, but as he passed his eyes locked on the center drawer.

Ten years had passed, yet he never had the courage to open that drawer.

Today was different, the fear of his past wasn't controlling his movements. Reaching forward, his hand was shaking as he paused on the knob. His heart lifted for a moment as he took a deep breath and pulled the drawer open. He expected a clustered drawer of papers, but found a neatly organized binder, "Of course," He hummed with the smallest hint of a smile pulling at his lips, telling her, "You were always so organized."

Pulling the large binder from the drawer, he moved to sit at the couch and stared down at it. Olivia, his spine shook at the thought of her name. He could never explain how his heart ached. What would she have done if she had more time? What would be different? He would be a father.

At the sight of a child, his heart would drop. His mind would pause and his heart filled with the terrible feeling of pure heartbreak.

He was afraid of the heartache he would open himself to by flipping the cover of the binder sitting in front of him. His daughter was taken care of. He loved her, but there was a hole in his heart.

Opening the binder, he felt his heart lift at a picture of he and Olivia. Bright smile on both of their features, it was taken only days after she reentered their lives. He saved her again and again, but he couldn't save her from the inevitable and that killed him. When it mattered most, he wasn't there. He wasn't supportive of her, and he couldn't provide a home for his daughter.

Placing the image in the pocket of the binder, he narrowed his eyes at her ultrasound photos. She was the size of a peanut in the first, but changed as the images continued. He watched his child growing, but he was ten years too late.

Tears escaped his eyes, splashing onto the pages. His lungs were struggling to keep up with the swiftness of his breathing. All medical information regarding the baby was documented and sealed in the thick binder. Every image taken during those nine months was locked in place and protected by a sheet protector. He was afraid to mess something up.

An hour later, the images were spread around the table. Unorganized and panicked, he couldn't remember the order. Fear cut through his heart as he sat alone in silence. He couldn't escape the terrible feeling that accompanied the memories and regret opening the drawer.

A knock at his front door made his eyes widen in a panic, "You home?" He heard Joe's voice call and his heart dropped as the knocking continued. He glanced at the clock, seeing that he was almost two hours late for work, "I'm coming in!" Joe called as he pushed the front door open, making Q jump to his feet.

He moved quickly, struggling to carefully place the images into the album as Joe stepped inside, "Q, what are you doing?" His friend asked with a laugh as he rounded the corner to enter the living room, commenting, "You're almost two hours late --." His voice trailed to silence as his eyes scanned the scene.

He looked to his friend, noticing how he stood completely still with tears stained across his features. His eyes dropped to look at the cluster of photos spread around the living room, "What's going on?" He asked cautiously, hesitant to take another step forward.