There was only a stunned silence; the kind that sucks all of the oxygen out of the room, the kind that is measured in the inability to produce the correct words. If it were a common situation, any kind of joyful announcement, Bradley was fairly certain the quiet would be immediately followed up by everyone talking at once; slow building thunder. Elation, he had to acknowledge against the sorrow that had closed his throat, that would have surely been a reaction to their pregnancy announcement.
The grief kept stacking up.
They had made their way over to the Upper West Side in the early evening hours after a nap and getting Stefani to eat half a bowl of soup. She moved slowly, clutching him, sliding a pair of sunglasses down to cover her eyes; bloodshot from sobbing.
"Hey, love," he began, as they put on their coats, stationed by the door, "we could always wait until tomorrow to talk to them. I know you're in pain, I see it in your face."
It was so much more than physical and he hurt, too, but she was fragile at the moment, and his first thought was to protect her.
"The longer we wait, the closer it gets to Christmas," she shook her head, pulling on a long black parka. "I just have to do it. Get it over with."
She sounded raw and exhausted and he reached over to help her zip, his fingers brushing tenderly over the ends of her hair. "You know I'm with you, one hundred percent."
"I know," her voice broke a little, and behind the dark lenses, she wiped at her eyes. "We'll do what we have to do and then I can come back here and be with you and Lea."
After they'd reunited with Lea and come into the apartment bustling with conversation, Frank Sinatra tunes, and smelling like freshly prepared pasta, the questions began. Natali had told everyone that Stefani hadn't been feeling well, leading to a hospital stay and that she would explain everything when she got out. Her phone had been off, so Cynthia couldn't text and that alone rose alarm bells, though Natali reassured her Stefani would discuss it later.
Sensing what was about to follow, the younger woman offered to take Lea in the kitchen, requesting her help with making some cookies and after the pair had left, Stefani and Bradley asked their families, who were befuddled as to what was going on, to sit.
The bad news was further compounded by hopeful faces; he was fairly certain that the assembled group thought their announcement was going to be of the happy variety.
Cynthia was the first to break into the total quiet, her hand over her mouth, her eyes instantly filling with tears. "Oh, sweetheart... Stefi, honey, I'm so sorry."
She made her way across the room, taking her daughter into her arms and Stefani went into them, albeit a little stiffly, and her mother's tears became her own.
It went like that with everyone else; little was spoken, aside from words of shared grief, condolences, embraces, and a river of tears.
Joe was the last to speak up; his head resting in the palm of his hands until Stefani went over to him, touched his shoulder.
"Dad?"
When he lifted his head, his eyes were red-rimmed. "I hate that you had to go through this alone," he told her thickly and then realizing the implication, he shook his head, turning to Bradley. "I know you were with her, son, and I appreciate that but you know you didn't have to be afraid to say something, honey. You needed your family."
She sniffed and Bradley immediately put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. "With all due respect, Joe," he replied quietly, "Stefani knows exactly what she needs. Now, and at the time, too."
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FanfictionBradley is a highly regarded (and grossly underappreciated) chef at one of Los Angeles's hottest restaurants and a single father, just trying to give his daughter everything. Lady Gaga seemingly has it all, except the love she so desperately wants...