Ghost of You || L.H.

12.

"Da-da!" she squealed, over and over again. Her legs bounced giddily and her arms waved frantically as she chanted the name over and over and over again.

I'd never felt love like this. I'd never been so worried about someone, so overwhelmed with emotion at all times. I've never wanted to spend every single moment watching over someone. I've never felt so needed, so completely and utterly wanted. Emily didn't even make me feel this kind of love and yet, as the little squeals rang through my ears, it made me love my Emily even more. She gave me this blessing, she gave me this little bundle of heaven in stinky diapers.

When those blue eyes open I can see the sky in them. When that laughter rings through the apartment it's like angels singing down on me from the heavens. When she smiles and that one tooth in the very front of her mouth shows I feel like I'm seeing my perfect little girl for the first time all over again.

I never saw myself as wanting kids but now that we have little Madeline Anne, I want twelve more. She's everything to me, my absolute world. I thought my love for Emily was the strongest love I'd ever feel but damn, God fucking damn was I fucking wrong. I'm repeating myself and I don't even care because holy mother of Jesus Christ, I love this little girl so much and I don't know how else to try and dim down this swelling feeling in my chest.

"She's getting so big already," Emily coos as she pinches Madeline's fingertips gently. "Ooh yes you are, say 'I'm so big, mommy'!"

Madeline squeals and her head throws back in laughter just as Emily's eyes crinkle in pure joy. I can't seem to find a way to look away from the two of them, Emily with her legs crossed over one another, Mads with her legs butterfly style in front of her mother.

The pregnancy fluff still hugs her hips, bunching out around her leggings in the sexiest way. Watching the way she acts with our perfect little girl, the way she tucks her hair behind her ears before hiding her face behind her hands in a game of peek-a-boo, the way she puffs out her cheeks as she mimics Maddi's babble...

I want another one.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It's not just relived moments anymore, they've evolved to false memories. It felt so real it's almost hard to remind myself that it never happened. That we never had that moment together, I never got to feel that love or that joy.

It never happened.

This truly has to count as cruel and unusual punishment. Isn't that illegal? Not that I'd be able to prove it, anyways. It's all in my head. They're just distant memories and dreams. Wishes, mostly.

I should've been there, done more, said more. Fucking hell why didn't I show her how much I loved her? Love her. Not past tense. Present. I still love her.

Sun shines in my eyes and I realize I've been laying here in my own cold sweat for probably two hours now. I roll over to climb out of the king mattress, half expecting the whore to be in my bed but, thankfully, whatever Michael told her has kept her away all week. Maybe he kicked her off the tour. I'd be okay with that. She's a headache. But she always relieves the headache with those cosmetically swollen lips...

Pushing the thought away, I force myself out of the plush oversized bed and head to the bathroom. My eyes are sunken, a hollow, defeated look in them, tied together with dark blue and yellowing bags underneath. My cheekbones are prominent but not in the usual flattering way. Disheveled hair, day-sixteen scruff, same black T-shirt that I've worn at least once every day since it all happened. It was her favorite. The collar still smells like her shampoo.