"Scenes from a Broken Heart"

Author: Samantha
Email: sammer77@aol.com
Notes: Italics denote flashbacks and/or memories.

She remembered the day it happened like it was yesterday. The day her life ended. It was summer and the weather was warm, a breeze blowing through the trees and taking the edge off the heat. The sun shined brightly. It was a beautiful day. It was a day that was perfect for new beginnings. But not for her. For her, it was the day the earth stopped revolving around the sun, the day darkness enveloped her world.

She had confessed her sins to him, had told him the truth. She hadn’t wanted any secrets between them. And she knew that he would be hurt, that he would be angry. But she never in a million years thought that he would leave her, that he would just walk out and not look back. She couldn’t forget the look in his eyes, the pain-pain that she had put there. He couldn’t even look at her and when she had tried to touch him, he shied away. That was what hurt the most. When he shut the door behind him, she kept telling herself that he would be back. But he never came back. Summer turned to fall, fall into winter, and still no Riley.

So she went through the days alone. She still had the boys, but it just wasn’t the same. She had destroyed not only Riley’s life, but the lives of her friends as well. Because of her mistakes, she had lost the people she cared most about in the world.

"Riley, I need to tell you something." Her heart was pounding in her chest and she was finding it difficult to breathe. She rubbed her palms together roughly.

Noticing his wife’s discomfort, he walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked at her closely, concern flooding his eyes. "Honey, what’s the matter? What is it?" he asked softly.

She stared into his eyes, but then quickly turned away. God, this was going to be harder than she thought. She tried to swallow down the lump in her throat as tears stung her eyes. Turning her back to him, she whispered, "Riley."

He was really starting to worry. She hadn’t been acting herself for the past few days. Ever since he returned home from his teaching seminar, she had been distant. Almost scared to be around him. He reached for her again. "Baby, please tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me."

She started to pace. She looked out the window, at the couch, around the room-anything so that she didn’t have to look at him. God, what was she supposed to say? She didn’t know how to do it. But she couldn’t go on trying to hide it. Keeping the secret was killing her. Finally, she stopped and turned around. Resolve covered her face like a mask. She was trembling but she ignored it. This was it.

She took a deep breath and tried to blink back her tears. "Riley, I’ve done something that I need to tell you about. Something really terrible."

Riley looked at her, confused. But then a slow smile spread across his face. She had a tendency to exaggerate things. So whatever it was was probably nothing major. She had probably dented the car or something and was afraid to tell him. "Buffy, it can’t be that bad. Just tell me," he said lightly.

"No. You don’t understand." She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly. Oh, for the right words. But she guessed there really weren’t any right words for what she had to tell him. So she just opened her eyes and said it in one quick sentence. "When you were away, I slept with someone else." There, she said it. Quick and painless. But she knew that it was anything but painless as she watched her husband, the words hanging in the air between them.

Riley stopped breathing. His eyes were directed at Buffy, but he couldn’t focus on anything. He just stood there silently, his world spinning out of control, unable to put together a coherent thought.

"Riley," she whispered, "please say something."

Her words came to him through a haze, registering slowly in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak, but the only words that came out were, "This must be some kind of joke." His brow was furrowed in confusion, his eyes pleaded with her to tell him that she was only kidding.

But she didn’t. "I wish it were, Riley. But it’s true. I’m so sorry." He looked as though he were about to collapse. She went to him, took his hand, and led him to a chair. She kneeled down in front of him, bowing her head, the tears falling down her face.

"You’re sorry. That’s nice." He regained some of his faculties and stared down at his wife who knelt in front of him, hands covering her face. His reflex reaction was to reach out for her, like he always did when she cried. To hold her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t do it. Instead, he rested his hands on his knees and spoke softly. "Why are you telling me this?"

Buffy looked up at him, her face wet with tears, longing for him to hold her but knowing that he wouldn’t. His eyes were distant, no trace of a tear. "I couldn’t hide it anymore. It was getting harder to look you in the eye. I didn’t want any secrets between us, Riley." Her eyes were wide, child-like.

But Riley was shaking his head, pushing back the chair and standing up. He took a step back, trying to put as much distance between he and Buffy as possible. "Honesty’s the best policy, is that it? You know what? I’m beginning to think more along the lines of ignorance is bliss." He ran his hands through his hair roughly, barely able to look at the woman who sat on the floor a few feet in front of him.

She stared up at him, standing up slowly. She wanted so badly to run to him, to wrap her arms around him and beg him to forgive her, but she didn’t. "It only happened once, Riley. That’s all. It didn’t…"

"Please don’t tell me it didn’t mean anything, Buffy. I don’t want to hear it," he said harshly, cutting her off. He shook his head roughly, putting a hand up. "You know what? I don’t want to hear any of it." He headed for the door.

"Riley, please." Buffy was pleading with him not to go. They could talk, they could work it out. She felt a bit hopeful when he stopped at the door, his hand on the knob.

Riley turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "I do want to know one thing, though. Who is he? Anyone I know?"

Buffy didn’t answer right away. Why did he want to know? "It doesn’t matter." She looked down at the floor.

But her cryptic answer confirmed it. "It is, isn’t it? Who is it?" He stepped from the door and covered the ground between them in three steps. He grabbed her arms tightly and forced her to look at him. "Tell me, Buffy."

She swallowed hard and focused her sad green eyes on his face. "Graham," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.

But Riley heard her. He didn’t need her to repeat it. To him, it sounded as though she screamed it. He let go of her and took a step back, his mouth slightly open in shock. Then he turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Buffy stared after him long after he left, frozen in time.

That had happened almost six months ago. Six months without him. Six months of loneliness, bitterness, and regret.

He had been kidding himself when he told himself that it would get easier with time. Sure, it got easier to get through the day without her. But the pain itself-that didn’t get easier. It still hung over him like a shroud everyday, making its presence known whenever he managed to stop thinking about it. Every whisper, every laugh, every smile reminded him of what he had lost.

The ironic thing about it was that this would be the exact thing he would turn to Graham about. Graham had been his best friend since they met in basic training almost twenty years before-his confidante, his ally. They had been through so much together, had saved each other’s life more than once. And after all that, it had come down to this.

He shook his head wearily, remembering the day Graham tried to approach him after Buffy’s confession. It was something that he’d rather forget, but couldn’t. It was just another way for the pain to rear its ugly head.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Riley asked icily, glaring at the man who had betrayed him.

Graham stood his ground, his eyes resting on Riley’s face. "I wanted to try to explain…" he said softly.

Riley laughed bitterly. "What is there to explain, Graham? You fucked my wife." He felt his temperature rising and he clenched his fists tightly. He really did not want to do this.

"It wasn’t like that, Riley." Graham’s voice remained low, even. "We didn’t mean for it to happen." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he regretted saying them.

"Famous last words," Riley muttered through clenched teeth. "So it was an accident. Is that what you’re saying? What, you bumped into each other and just like that your clothes fell off and you wound up in bed together?"

Closing his eyes, Graham shook his head sadly. He knew he shouldn’t have come here. But then again, what did he expect? That he would say he was sorry and that everything would go back to the way it was? Who was he fooling? "I’m so sorry, Riley," he whispered, opening his eyes to look at him.

"That’s what Buffy said," Riley replied, his eyes dark. He found it hard to even say her name. "She’s sorry, you’re sorry. Everyone’s so fucking sorry."

Graham watched his friend a moment longer, silently observing how hurt he was. Then, without a word, he turned and left.

It hadn’t even been all that long since he and Buffy had renewed their vows. That whole business back in Huxley-he thought that would be the hardest thing that they would have to deal with since her slaying days ended. But he was wrong. This was so much worse.

Willow sat on the back porch, watching her children play quietly in the yard. That’s mostly all she did these days-sit and watch her children, cook, clean, breathe. She went through her life calmly, doing the things that were necessary to get through the day. Then at night after the kids went to bed, she would watch television and usually fall asleep on the couch. She still couldn’t bring herself to sleep in her bed, their bed. It just didn’t feel right.

He had moved out, saying that he couldn’t stand seeing the pain in her eyes whenever she looked at him. She hadn’t even asked him to go. It just worked out that way. She had come home from picking the kids up at school to find his suitcases by the door when she walked in.

She walked through the door, almost tripping over the bags piled next to it. Josh and Anne ran upstairs to their rooms, seeming not to notice them at all. She stared at the luggage for a moment, knowing what it meant. When she looked up, she found his eyes.

They stared at each other in silence for a long time. Finally, Graham said softly, "I was hoping to be gone before you and the kids got home." He fumbled nervously with the keys in his hand.

"You weren’t going to say goodbye." It wasn’t a question, just an observation.

Graham shook his head sadly. "I left you a note."

Willow nodded wordlessly. "What about the kids? What should I tell them?"

Sighing heavily, he looked at his wife wearily. "Tell them the truth, Willow. Tell them that I had to go because I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. Tell them that I am a horrible person who doesn’t deserve such a wonderful family. Tell them whatever you want." He didn’t mean to snap at her, but he couldn’t help it. How did he know what to say to his kids when he didn’t know what to say to himself?

She was taken aback by Graham’s words, but did not respond. She didn’t have the strength or the inclination to soothe him. "At least tell me where you’re going. In case there’s an emergency."

"I don’t know. I’ll let you know." And with that, he grabbed his bags and headed out the door.

She often thought of that day, his words. They had barely spoken since. And despite all of the hurt, she missed him. She missed the sound of his voice, the melody of his laughter, the way he would hold her. She missed the feeling of having him in the same room-that comfortable, safe feeling that would warm her from the inside out. She didn’t want to let him go. But she didn’t know what else to do.

His room at the Blackstone Hotel was less than homey. But perhaps he didn’t deserve any of the amenities that home offered. He truly felt alone. And the hardest part was that he had brought it all on himself. His weakness, his mistake had cost him everything he loved.

A phone call changed everything. Or at least served as the catalyst to his inevitable downfall. He could still hear the phone ringing in his head sometimes when he closed his eyes at night. The conversation-brief, but to the point. Her words had made his heart stop, had made his world start spinning out of control.

"He knows, Graham." Buffy’s voice was just a whisper on the other end. He could tell that she had been crying.

Graham’s chest tightened. "Oh, God," he said weakly. He was in the kitchen, grasping the counter tightly, his knuckles turning white from the grip. "W-What…how?"

Buffy took a ragged breath. "I told him."

"What?" he asked loudly. He looked through the doorway. Willow was sitting on the couch with the kids, watching a movie. She didn’t seem to hear his outburst, for which he was grateful. He turned around and leaned against the counter, his mind racing.

"I had to…I couldn’t take it anymore." She paused and he could hear her choking back a sob. "He’s gone," she whispered.

Graham couldn’t think. "I can’t believe this," he muttered, shaking his head roughly. "I can’t believe this."

"I’m sorry…" he heard her say.

But he couldn’t listen to anymore. He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it, gripping it tightly in his fingers. Then he hung up without a word.

He remembered being so angry with Buffy for telling Riley, for not keeping their secret. But now it seemed so silly. He had no right to be angry with her. It wasn’t up to her to protect him from his own mistakes. It was just that he wasn’t ready to admit to himself just how much he had screwed up his life.

The nights were so hard. She was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about the emptiness of the bed, the emptiness of her heart. Riley hadn’t set foot in their bedroom since he was there to get some of his things. That had been months ago.

Riley was standing in front of the closet, searching for his suitcase. He found it on the top shelf and pulled it down roughly, several other items tumbling down onto the floor with it. He cursed under his breath, bending down to pick them up. It was then that he realized he was crying, the tears in his eyes making it difficult to see what was right in front of his face. He knelt there, unable to move, just letting the bitter tears flow.

"Riley," he heard her say. He stood quickly, his back to her, wiping his eyes. He picked up the suitcase and turned to set it down on the bed, popping open the latches easily and flinging the top open. He avoided eye contact.

"Riley," she said again, stepping into the room. "Please don’t go." Her plea was simple and direct.

He paused by the dresser and closed his eyes. Then, without saying a word, he opened the top drawer and grabbed handfuls of his clothes, turning to throw them into the suitcase.

"Please talk to me." She stood at the end of the bed, watching helplessly as the pile of clothes in the suitcase grew larger.

"I don’t think you want me to do that right now, Buffy," he said flatly, trying to keep his raging emotions in check.

Buffy looked at him. "Where will you go?"

Shrugging, Riley pushed past her and walked quickly to the closet. "Don’t know yet." He grabbed some clothes from the rack and shoved them, hangers and all, into the suitcase. This continued for a while until the suitcase was full. Then he slammed the suitcase shut, popping the clasps back in place. He grasped the handle tightly and headed for the door.

"What about the boys? They won’t understand," she said to him as he was about to step through the door.

Riley paused, bowing his head. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to look into hers for the first time. "I don’t understand it myself." He lingered there in the doorway a moment longer before turning and walking away.

He hadn’t been back since except to pick up the boys. And then, he usually just stood outside by the car and waited for them to come out of the house. She would stand in the doorway and kiss the boys goodbye and watch silently as they piled into the car and drove away. Rarely would he catch her eyes, and when he did, he would always turn away quickly.

She wondered if he would ever be able to look at her again.

He missed the time he was losing with the boys. He would love to have back all the time he’d lost, all the hours he hadn’t had a chance to spend with them. Seeing them only on weekends was tough. They never spent the night; he lived at a hotel and didn’t have the room for them. Besides, he wanted them to sleep in their own beds. At home is where they belonged. At home is where they all belonged.

They were sitting in the booth-Riley sat on one side of the table, Michael and Jason sat on the other. He was watching them as they ate, his mind elsewhere. It had only been a few weeks since he left, but they seemed to have grown so much in that span and it seemed to him that he had missed most of it.

"Dad," Michael said insistently, waving his hand in front of his father’s face, trying to get his attention.

Riley sat up and focused his gaze on his ten-year-old son. "Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?"

Michael studied his father closely. "You okay?" he asked carefully.

Riley stared at his son, shaking his head. The kid was smarter than he was. And it was all backwards. He was supposed to be the one to look out for Michael’s well-being. Not the other way around. He broke from his analysis to smile and answer, "Yeah, Mike. I’m fine."

Another silence passed by as Riley gathered up the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind all day. He took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly. "So, how’s your mom?" he asked softly.

Michael looked at his father closely. He really didn’t like being the go-between for his parents. He wished they would just talk to each other. But they didn’t. But at least his dad was asking about her. Just as he knew his mom would ask about his dad when he dropped them off. "She’s okay. She’s real quiet."

Riley nodded, letting his son’s words sink in. Then Jason, who had been busy picking at his food, spoke up. " I saw her crying yesterday. She doesn’t know I saw her, but I did."

Michael nudged his little brother roughly, whispering harshly, "Shut up, Jason!" He looked at his father.

Riley felt his stomach twist into a knot and he swallowed hard to push the lump back down his throat. The thought of Buffy crying alone was not a happy one for him. It never had been.

He still longed to hold her, to feel her body next to his. He missed the way she laughed, the way she touched his hand, the smell of her hair as it lay spread out on her pillow next to his head. And sometimes the urge to be near her was so strong that he would drive to the house in the middle of the night. He would just sit outside in his car, staring up at their bedroom window, wondering if she was having sweet dreams or if she was lying awake restlessly. He even went so far as to walk up to the front door, keys in hand. But he would always stop before going in. He just couldn’t bring himself to take that final step. It was like returning to the scene of the crime.

She had never dreamed that her life would take such a drastic turn. She had always had an idea of what her life would turn out like and it wasn’t like this. A wonderful man, a couple great kids, good friends surrounding her-that’s what she had seen in her future all those years ago. And for a while, she had had all of those things. She had always heard that a person’s life could change in an instant. Well, she was living proof that that was true. One night of mindless oblivion had changed her life forever. The wonderful man, the good friend-they were gone.

He sat on the couch, his head in his hands. She could see that he was trembling, but when she tried to reach out to him, he pulled away. "Graham. What is it?" she asked, frightened.

The look in his eyes when he turned his face towards her caused her to catch her breath. "Willow," he muttered, barely able to get the word out. He looked away again quickly.

"What’s bothering you? You can tell me," she probed gently.

"No, I can’t. You don’t understand." He stood up and started pacing nervously, finally stopping and standing in front of the window, looking out into the sunshine.

She stood slowly and took a few steps towards her tortured husband. "Make me understand, then."

"I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry," he whispered, shaking his head roughly.

"Graham, you’re scaring me. Please just tell me what happened. Please," she said softly, closing the distance between them and touching his arm gently.

He turned to look at her, his eyes rimmed with tears, taking her hand in his. "Buffy and I…we…slept together." He closed his eyes again and bowed his head, not looking at her.

"No…" she said hoarsely, taking a step back. "No. You’re lying."

She couldn’t breathe and she searched for something to focus on. "It happened a few nights ago. While you were at your parents’. It was only one time. That’s all," she heard him say through the whirlwind in her head.

All she could do was stand there, trying to make the world make sense again.

That day was etched in her memory forever. No matter how hard she tried to forget it, it was always there-mocking her, reminding her, haunting her. Like a broken record it played in her mind.

Broken record, broken marriage.

Looking back-which is all he ever did-he couldn’t remember why it even happened. Or maybe he just didn’t want to remember. People tended to forget things that reminded them of their own fallibility. But the last few days, it had been all he’d been thinking about. He had been trying to figure out how he had ever reached this point-this incredibly dark, low place in his life. How had he managed to take all the gifts he had been given in his life and throw them away?

They sat next to each other on Buffy’s couch, laughing. The movie had just ended and Buffy reached over and changed the channel. "I hate watching the credits. Who cares who the second assistant key grip was anyway?" she said casually, a smile still lighting up her face as she looked at Graham.

Graham stretched and looked at his watch. "Wow. It’s late. I should get home," he said, starting to get up.

Buffy grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Just stay a few more minutes. Please?" she asked sweetly. "It’s nice having another adult around the house. With Riley away, it’s just me and the kids. It’s nice getting to talk about something besides video games and cartoons." She laughed.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Graham answered, understanding. "Willow’s been gone for almost a month. I mean, we talk on the phone. But it’s mostly to talk about the kids and to hear her say that she’s not sure when she’s coming back." He leaned his head back against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Buffy sighed heavily. "I’ve heard that one. Riley called me today to say that his business is taking longer than he thought and to not expect him for at least another two days. I miss him."

A silence fell between the two friends as they both wallowed in self-pity, feeling neglected. Then, Graham started to chuckle softly.

"What’s so funny?" Buffy inquired, turning her head to look at him.

Graham met her eyes. "Look at us. Here we are feeling sorry for ourselves because we aren’t getting enough attention. We are no better than our kids."

Buffy smiled. "You know, you’re right. We’re pathetic. We should watch another movie. How about Rocky IV? I always love watching Rocky kick that Russian’s ass." She laughed, winking at him.

He smiled, sizing her up. "I would’ve figured you’ve had enough ass-kicking in your lifetime," he said, teasing her.

"What can I say? I like to relive my past vicariously through Stallone." She smiled widely, her green eyes twinkling. "So, you wanna watch it or not?"

Graham looked at his watch again, debating. Then he shrugged and said, "Sure. I’m game."

They didn’t get to see Rocky kick Drago’s ass. They had both fallen asleep before the main event. When Graham opened his eyes, he saw snow on the screen and Buffy’s arm across his stomach. He looked over to find her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. Her breathing was deep and even and he knew that she was sound asleep.

He didn’t have the heart to wake her. She shifted and in the glow of the television, he could see that a small strand of hair had fallen across her cheek. Reflexively, he reached over and gently brushed it away, his fingers grazing her skin lightly.

Buffy’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled. "Hey," she said groggily, sitting up but leaving her hand on his stomach. It was nice being next to another warm body again.

Graham looked at her, a slight smile curving his lips. She really was beautiful. He had never thought about it much before, but right now, looking at her, it really hit him. "We missed the ending," he said softly, motioning his head towards the tv.

"Oh well. We both know Rocky wins," she answered, still looking at him.

He suddenly became aware of her hand on his stomach, could feel it burning a hole through his shirt. He turned away, saying, "I really should be going." He knew those were the right words to say even though they weren’t the ones that were playing in his mind.

"You don’t have to," she said without thinking. "I mean, if you’re too tired to drive, you can stay here."

Graham stared at her, knowing that he should get up and leave, but unable to move. His mind screamed at him to say, "Thanks, but no thanks." But the words that actually came out of his mouth were, "Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind."

"I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it," she replied casually. He thought he felt her hand move ever-so-slightly against him and his pulse quickened against his will.

She smiled and said, "I’ll go get you a pillow and blanket, then. Be right back." She stood and went up the stairs.

He had no idea what he was thinking when he followed her up the stairs. He wasn’t thinking at all. He found her standing at the linen closet door, reaching on her tip toes for something. "Here, let me help you," he offered, walking over to her and reaching up to grasp a pillow.

They both held the pillow in their hands and stared at each other. "Thanks," Buffy whispered.

"No problem," Graham responded, his heart pounding.

After a long moment, Buffy said, "Well, goodnight." She smiled tentatively.

Graham, shaking off his reverie, whispered back, "Goodnight." He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

But it wasn’t her cheek he made contact with. He felt her lips under his, soft and warm. His mind was yelling at him to stop, to turn away and run out the door. But he didn’t. And when she didn’t pull away, he pressed against her lips harder. He felt her hand slip against his cheek, over his ear, into his hair. The pillow dropped on the floor at their feet and he felt her other hand press against his chest.

The kiss deepened as their mouths opened, allowing their tongues to touch. He slipped his fingers into her hair-the same golden locks that he had brushed off her cheek a few minutes earlier. He pulled her to him with his other arm and pressed her against the wall. He felt himself drowning in her embrace.

And for a few mindlessly blissful moments, Willow and Riley ceased to exist.

If only he had gone home. If only he hadn’t gone over there in the first place. If only, if only, if only… It was easy to go back and admit to all the things that he should have done differently. But it still didn’t change what happened. What’s done was done. All he could hope to do was pick up the pieces.

The last time she saw Willow was a few days after the big confession. Buffy had been avoiding her on purpose because she didn’t know what to say to her. Willow had approached her. Buffy was shocked to see her standing on her doorstep, hands clasped in front of her, eyes full of sadness.

"Willow," Buffy said softly, surprised.

Willow nodded slightly. "Hello, Buffy."

The two women stood face to face in silence. Finally, Buffy spoke. "Would you like to come in?" she asked cautiously.

"No, thank you." Willow paused and took a breath. "I just wanted to come by and say that I know. Graham told me."

Buffy didn’t know what to say to this woman that she loved so much and had hurt so deeply. She felt tears sting her eyes for the millionth time in the past few days and she tried to blink them away. "I…don’t know what to say." She bowed her head, unable to look at her.

Willow spoke gently, calmly. "Just tell me one thing, Buffy. I just need to know one thing."

Lifting her head slowly, she met Willow’s eyes. "Anything," she managed.

There was a brief pause as Willow searched for the courage to ask. "Why?" she asked softly.

Buffy shook her head slowly, trying to search for the answer to the same question that she had asked herself a thousand times. She took a deep breath and said in a low, clear voice, "I needed someone and Graham was there." There, she said it.

Another deafening silence fell between them. Willow nodded and whispered, "Thank you." Then she turned and walked away.

She had barely spoken to Willow since. Several times she had picked up the phone and started dialing her number, but she always chickened out and hung up before completing it. What could she possibly have to say that Willow would want to hear? What could she possibly say that would magically make things better between them?

Things would never be the same again.

There was only one person in the world that understood what he was feeling, only one person who felt the same betrayal and pain that he did. Willow. He went to see her not long after Graham had stopped by to see him. He wasn’t exactly sure what had driven him to go to her house. Maybe it was just a need to be with someone who understood. Maybe it was just a need to not be alone. But when he got there, he found a heartbroken woman.

She opened the door and was surprised to see him standing there. "Riley," she said weakly, looking at him through dull eyes.

Riley studied the redhead closely, thinking to himself that she looked like he felt. "May I come in?" he asked gently.

"Sure," she said, stepping aside to let him pass. She closed the door and followed him into the living room. "Can I get you anything?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "No, thank you. What I need no one can give me."

Willow tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "Yeah. I know that feeling." She paused, settling in a chair across from Riley. "So, how have you been?"

"About as well as can be expected, I guess." He folded his hands in front of him and studied them. "I moved out."

"So did Graham," Willow answered softly. "A couple days ago. I came home and his bags were packed. I never even asked him to go…" She let her breath out slowly and sank into the chair.

Riley looked at her, seeing the sadness on her face, hearing it in her voice. He could see that she missed him, that she didn’t seem like a whole person without him. He felt the same way about Buffy. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but he didn’t know what else to do. So there they were, he and Willow-two halves of two wholes trying to figure out how to keep going.

She reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. He covered her hand with his other one and sighed. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to.

They were still friends, maybe even better than before after having experienced this whole thing together. He wondered how she was doing. She was going through a tough time. She had more to think about than he had, more to deal with. Unexpected complications, she called them.

Telling him had been one of the hardest things she had ever had to do. Thinking about it now, she wished she had done it differently. But then again, she wished she had done a lot of things differently. But she hadn’t expected this to happen. Not now. Not like this.

"Hello?" she heard the familiar voice say on the other end.

She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling her heart begin to pound. She gripped the phone tightly and thought about hanging up when she heard him say, "Willow? Is that you?"

"Yeah," she said weakly, closing her eyes and swallowing. Her mouth was dry. "It’s me."

There was a pause on the other end and she could hear him breathing. Finally, he said, "I didn’t expect to hear from you."

"Yeah, well, there’s something I need to tell you…Something you should know." She fought to keep her voice under control. Just hearing his voice brought tears to her eyes and she started to tremble. Her fingers tightened around the receiver.

"What is it? Something happen to the kids?" he asked urgently. She could hear the panic beginning to rise in his voice.

"No…the kids are fine. All three of them…" she answered.

She heard him pause again, thinking it over. Then she heard him let his breath out sharply into the phone as it sank in. "Willow…oh God," he whispered.

"I just thought you should know," she said quickly. "Everything’s fine, so don’t worry." Then she hung up before he could respond.

She dropped the phone on the bed and laid back against her pillow, rolling over and burying her face in it, crying.

She was due in less than a month and he hadn’t even made an effort to be a part of the whole pregnancy. Not that she had made it easy for him. Whenever he came by to pick up the kids, she avoided him. She never told him when her doctor’s appointments were, so of course he was never there. She thought she had seen him once at the doctor’s office, but she had just been seeing things. Wishful thinking, she guessed.

It was just that he had always been there every step of the way with Josh and Anne, sharing the whole experience with her. And this time around, he wasn’t there. He was so close. She knew exactly where he was-all she had to do was pick up the phone. But she didn’t. He just felt so far away.

Willow didn’t know that he was there at her check-ups, but he was. Every time. She had had the same obstetrician since she was pregnant with Josh. And he knew that Willow was a stickler for monthly check-ups. The rest of her life may have been flipped upside down, but she would never risk anything concerning her child’s well-being. The first time, he had called the doctor’s office and said that he was supposed to meet his wife there for her appointment, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the exact day and time. Hectic life, you know. The receptionist had given him the information he needed.

So he had gone. He needed to be there for her even if she didn’t want him to be. Watching from afar was better than not watching at all.

"Excuse me. My wife, Willow Miller, is having a check-up here as we speak. I’m running late and I am supposed to meet her. Could you please tell me what room she’s in?" he asked the lady at the reception desk.

The lady scanned something on her desk and then looked up at him, smiling widely. "Room 104, sir."

"Thanks," he said quickly and headed down the hall, searching for room 104. When he found it, he stopped and peered in through the small window.

There she was, lying on her back on the table. She looked so fragile. He wanted to be in that room with her, holding her hand. But he knew he couldn’t be. Being on the outside looking in would just have to do.

He watched as the doctor pushed up her shirt and squirted the gel on her belly in preparation for the ultrasound. She was already starting to show, he noticed. It was barely noticeable, but he could tell. He could see her lips moving as she answered the doctor’s questions. Perhaps he was asking her where her husband was. That was a logical question, he thought. He had always been there before. He wondered what she would answer to a question like that-oh, he’s out of my life. He cheated on me with my best friend and I want nothing more to do with him. No, he thought. She would never say that. She would probably just make up some lame excuse about how he had to work or something.

She almost saw him. She turned her head towards the door, but he ducked out of the way before she could spot him. He didn’t want her to know he was there. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. Especially now. He waited a few seconds and then peeked through the window again in time to see the sonogram picture on the monitor. It didn’t look like much to him, but he knew that their child was in there somewhere. Their baby.

He saw the doctor point to the screen and say something to Willow. He saw Willow smile and nod her head. He couldn’t hear what the doctor was saying, but he could imagine his words-"There’s the heart beating. Can you see it?"

It was too much for him to take. He should be in there, smiling along with her, hearing their baby’s heart beating. But he wasn’t. And he had no one to blame but himself. He turned from the door and walked quickly out of the office.

He had continued to go back even though it hurt to see her. Each time, they were only separated by a door, but it felt like a brick wall. He was missing so much. And the staff caught on after two or three months of his lame excuses and hasty exits. He admitted that she didn’t know that he was there and that he wanted to keep it that way. He begged them not to say anything to her. They had reluctantly agreed after seeing the look in his eyes, after hearing the sincerity in his voice. They could tell that he loved her and didn’t want to hurt her. They had even given him a copy of the sonogram picture, which was well-worn and kept safely in his wallet. He looked at it everyday.

He hoped that one day he would be able to have more than a blurry black and white picture to hold on to.

She had gone to see him once. Since he would never come inside when he picked up and dropped off the boys, she had resolved to make it a point to seek him out. Make him listen. Make him understand. She wasn’t about to let him go that easily.

But she hadn’t counted on still seeing so much pain in his eyes. It darkened his face and pulled at his body. And when he opened the door to his hotel room and saw her standing in the hall, it took her breath away.

"Riley, I’m not leaving until you talk to me," she said quickly, before he had a chance to object.

He looked at her wearily, one hand on the door, the other rubbing his eyes. Wordlessly, he stepped aside and let her in. He closed the door and took a deep breath before turning to face her.

Buffy was aware of the distance between them, the distance she knew he was keeping purposely. "Willow came to me and asked my why. Why? That was a question that I had been trying to answer myself. And you know what I said? I said that I needed someone and Graham was there. That’s all. No long winded explanation, no elaborate excuse. Just the plain, honest truth." She rested her eyes on his face, seeing no reaction.

After a brief silence, Riley said, "Is that all you wanted to say? Because if you’re finished…" He could barely look at her.

"I’m not finished, Riley." She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, warming them. She took a breath to muster the courage to continue. "Do you know why I came all the way here to tell you that? Because I wanted you to know that I’m not going to try to justify what I did. It was wrong. I know that. But it’s done and I can’t take it back."

Riley shifted uneasily against the door, shoving his hands in his pockets. "No, you can’t." He tightened his jaw.

"I didn’t set out to hurt you, Riley. Do you think I like looking in your eyes and seeing pain? Pain that I put there? Do you think I enjoy living in that house without you, sleeping in our bed alone? But I know that the only person I have to blame for that is me." Her resolve was starting to wear down the longer she looked at him. Her words didn’t seem to be working at all-his eyes still held their cold glare.

She shook her head slowly, her chin trembling slightly. "All I can do is spend the rest of my days proving to you that it will never happen again. That’s all I can do, Riley." Tears spilled over onto her cheeks as she looked at him.

"Maybe that’s not enough, Buffy," he whispered, seemingly struggling with his own tears.

She closed her eyes, his words playing again and again in her mind. So that was it, then. There was nothing left to do. Calmly she opened her eyes and wiped at her tears with her fingers, taking a deep breath. "I’m sorry to have bothered you." She walked to the door.

Riley stepped aside and watched her silently as she walked out the door.

When she thought about it now, she should’ve been more insistent. She should’ve sat him down and made him talk to her until they reached some sort of truce. But she had just walked away. She had given up. And she hated herself for it.

He had been trying to figure out how this whole thing started. The more he thought about it, the more the small things stood out in his mind-a conversation, a harsh word, a silly argument. Things that, when added together, could perhaps have led them to this place.

"Why do you have to go? You just got home from a trip," she said to him, annoyed. She sat across from him at the table. The kids had gone upstairs after being excused and Riley had just told her about a seminar in Houston that he had to attend.

"Because I am the department chair, Buffy. It’s my job to go." He looked at her closely. He could tell that she was less than happy.

Buffy stood up and started clearing the table, walking into the kitchen. "You are never home anymore," she said as she passed by him.

He stood and began to help with the clearing process, stacking plates on top of each other. He grabbed the pile and headed into the kitchen behind her. "It’s only for a couple of days. I’ll be back in no time." He knew that he had been going out of town a lot lately and he was trying to minimize the situation as much as possible.

"That’s what you always say, Riley. Then a couple of days turns into a week. So don’t even bother." She turned on the water, holding her fingers under the stream to test it for the right temperature. She kept her back turned to him.

Riley was starting to get a little annoyed himself. They went through this every time he went away. He wasn’t in the mood to go through it again. "Look, Buffy. Let’s not do this. We both know how the scene goes."

"Fine," she muttered, starting to wash the dishes.

The dishwashing went to completion without another word from either of them. When the last dish was dried and put away, Buffy asked calmly, "When are you leaving?"

"Day after tomorrow," Riley answered evenly.

Buffy’s eyes darkened considerably at his words. "Thanks for the notice," she said angrily, throwing the dishtowel on the counter and walking out of the kitchen.

That had actually happened right before his last trip. By the next morning, they had both apologized and she and the boys had gone to the airport to see him off, waving goodbye to him at the gate. Of course, she had been right. The trip had taken longer than expected. And boy did he have a surprise waiting for him when he returned home.

He couldn’t help but wonder if that last argument had pushed her into Graham’s arms. He knew it sounded ridiculous. It wasn’t his job to make excuses for her. But when you loved someone, you tried to minimize their mistakes. You tried to take some of the blame when they screwed up. Because there was no other choice.

And God knows he loved her.

It was the little things that she missed the most-the things that she had always taken for granted before. Leaning against him when they watched television. Listening to him read a book to Anne. Watching him wash the car. The funny way his hair stood up in the morning. Brushing their teeth together. Things that seem so inconsequential until they’re gone. Then they become the most important things in the world.

The kids had gone to bed and she and Graham were sitting on the couch watching the news. Suddenly, Graham stood up and shut off the television.

"What are you doing?" Willow asked curiously, looking at her husband strangely.

Graham grinned at her. "You’ll see," he said mischievously. He went over to the stereo and popped in a CD, waited for it to load and selected a song. He turned to her as the music started, holding out his hand. "Care to dance?"

A smile spread slowly across her face and she tilted her head quizzically. "Now? Here?" Spontaneity wasn’t usually Graham’s style.

"Why not? Could be fun," he answered, winking at her. When she still hesitated, he said, "Well, if you don’t want to…" and turned to shut off the music.

"Don’t you dare," she said, standing.

He turned to face her again, the smile still adorning his lips. He reached for her and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. Her hair brushed against his cheek as he nuzzled her neck.

Willow circled his waist with her arms and sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Whatever it is that you did that you feel you have to make up for, I sure am glad you did it," she said playfully.

Graham chuckled. "All I did was fall in love with you." He kissed her neck.

She pulled away slightly and turned her head to meet his lips with her own. She kissed him briefly, softly, just enough to get him going. Which was her purpose anyway. She looked at him, her eyes glittering in the dim light. "Why don’t we continue this upstairs?" she asked softly, smiling.

"I thought you’d never ask," he breathed, shutting off the stereo and following behind her as she led him up the stairs by the hand.

That was the last time they had made love. Shortly after that, her father had fallen ill and she had gone to stay with her parents. Counting back, that was most likely the night she had conceived. She remembered that night like it had happened yesterday. She wished it had been yesterday. At least it would mean that he was home.

But that had been another lifetime ago.

The morning after had been the most awkward morning after in his life. He remembered waking up and, for an instant, thinking that he was at home. But then it hit him. And when he looked over to find his best friend’s wife lying next to him, he panicked. His first instinct was to run. And run he had. Carefully he had slipped out of the bed, taking caution not to wake Buffy. The last thing he wanted was to face her. He had dressed quickly and left without saying goodbye.

After that, it had been impossible to talk to her. The next time they had spoken had been when she called him to say that she had told Riley everything. And the last time he saw her had been just a few days after that. He didn’t know why he went over there. He just felt he needed to see her.

He was nervous as he walked up the front steps to her door. He took a deep breath and knocked. When the door opened, he saw Michael standing in the doorway. A wave of guilt washed over him as he looked at the boy who was the same age as his own son, at the boy whom he loved as his own. Michael and Josh were best friends and he wondered if he had ruined that relationship as well. "Hey, Mike," he said softly. "Is your mom around? I need to talk to her."

"Just a second," Michael said quickly, smiling. He went into the house and Graham could hear him say, "Mom! Uncle Graham’s here!" Graham wondered if Riley still wanted his son to call him that.

A moment later, Buffy appeared in the doorway. "Hi," she said weakly, looking at him through sad eyes. She had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and she was without makeup. Graham noticed that she didn’t smile at him.

"Buffy," he said slowly, taking a breath. He was finding it hard to look her in the eye. "I probably shouldn’t have come. I’m sure I’m the last person you want to see…"

"It’s okay, Graham," she replied wearily. She stepped outside, closing the door behind her. She stood facing him on the front porch. "What is it you want?"

"I’m not sure," he said softly. "I guess to say I’m sorry." His weary eyes met hers in a silent stare.

Buffy nodded slowly. "So am I," she whispered.

Another silent moment passed between them. Then Graham started to turn away. "Take care of yourself, Buffy." He began walking down the steps.

"Graham," he heard her say. He stopped and turned around, looking at her. "Yeah?" he asked softly.

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. "Nothing," she sighed.

He nodded and turned to go.

That was the last time they had spoken. He thought about her sometimes, wondered how she was, if she and Riley had made any attempt to mend things. He prayed that they had made more progress than he and Willow. It was bad enough that he had broken up his own marriage. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he had destroyed theirs as well.

She had actually found out by accident. Literally. She had been at the store picking up a few things for dinner on her way to pick the boys up from school. She turned down the aisle, scanning the shelves for saltines, when she pushed her cart right into a display of oyster crackers. She bent down and hurriedly began to pick up the boxes, but her haste only made the mess worse.

She was struggling to straighten the disheveled pile of boxes. She knelt on the floor, blindly trying to pick up the mess through her tears. She could feel everyone looking at her and it angered her that no one offered her a hand. Then someone did. She looked up to see a face that she had not seen in weeks. "Willow," she said, surprised.

"Let me help you," Willow said softly, reaching for a couple of the boxes and setting them back on the display.

Buffy didn’t move for a long moment. She just sat there, watching her old friend put the boxes back on the shelf, amazed that she of all people was helping her. She was startled from her reverie by Willow saying, "Hey, you’re the one that made the mess. I think you should at least help." She smiled warmly at her.

Despite herself, Buffy smiled back and turned her attention to the boxes strewn about the floor. The two women fixed the display in silence and when it was finished and looked halfway decent, they stood up.

"Good enough," Willow said, surveying their handiwork.

"Thanks," Buffy replied, her eyes also on the display.

Willow turned to look at her. "You’re welcome." The two friends locked eyes for a moment before Willow said, "Well, I should be going. I have to pick the kids up from school."

"Yeah. Me too." Buffy nodded in agreement. She turned to go, but then stopped and turned around. "Hey, Will."

Willow turned around. "Yeah?"

"How have you been?" Buffy asked cautiously. She had thought about her everyday and hoped that she was alright.

Smiling, Willow answered. "I’m fine, Buffy. I’m pregnant." Her eyes still held a hint of sadness, but her smile was wide and sincere.

Shocked, Buffy didn’t say anything for a moment. "Wow," she finally managed. "That’s great news, Will. I’m happy for you." But she suddenly felt the urge to run. "It was nice to see you again," she muttered as she grabbed her cart and headed for the checkout.

All through the line, all she could think about was that Willow was having a baby and because of her, Graham wasn’t there to share in it. She was such a horrible person.

In a way, she wished that Willow had not told her. That way, she wouldn’t feel like she had destroyed another person’s life. But she had to face the facts. And the fact was that she had helped to tear apart two families without even a thought. Sure, she hadn’t set out to do so. But she had. And because of her, Willow’s baby may not have a full-time father. It was amazing how one mistake could leave so much destruction in its wake.

In the beginning of his quasi-second bachelorhood, he had stayed home every night with nothing to stare at but the television and the four walls of his hotel room. But after a while, the room started closing in and he had to get out before his memories choked him to death. These days, most of his nights were filled with sitting at a bar watching basketball. Or hockey. Or baseball. Or whatever happened to be on. Okay, so he was still staring at the television. But at least there were other people around. And a blaring jukebox in the background to fill his head and push the past away.

She sidled up to him at the bar and said with a smile, "Come here often?"

Riley looked at her, eyebrows raised. "That really work for you?"

Laughing, she replied, "I know it’s corny, but it gets the conversation started."

"Is that all you’re looking for? Conversation?" he asked, looking her over. She really was attractive-long, dark hair, tanned skin, blue eyes, crimson lips. Very attractive indeed.

"It’s a start," she answered. She signaled to the bartender. "White wine, please. On him," she said, pointing to Riley. He didn’t object. "Oh, and another…" She looked at him. "What is it you’re having?"

"Club soda," he answered evenly, grinning slightly.

Her own grin widened and she shook her head. "And another club soda for this handsome gentleman," she said across the bar. When the drinks had been served, she looked at him again. "Heavy drinker, I see. I like that in a man." She winked at him.

He tipped his head towards her glass and replied, "White wine. High maintenance. I don’t like that in a woman." A half-smile curled his lips.

She gripped the delicately stemmed glass in her slender fingers and Riley noticed her flawless manicure-she was definitely high maintenance. "I just like what I like," she said casually, taking a sip.

"Oh? And what else do you like?" Riley asked, intrigued by her.

She set the glass back down on the bar and leaned a little closer to him. "I like you," she breathed.

Riley chuckled, but did not move away. "Is that right?"

"Uh huh," she answered playfully, nodding slowly. She took a breath and leaned in even closer, whispering in his ear, "Let’s get out of here."

He could feel her breath against his skin, could smell the faint scent of expensive perfume. She lingered there a moment longer before pulling away and looking him in the eye. Her own sparkled mischievously.

There was something about her that drew him to her, something that he couldn’t resist. He smiled and whispered, "Sure."

She smiled and stood up. She was fairly tall. Of course, that could have something to do with the stiletto heels she was wearing, he thought as he looked her up and down. He stood up as well, throwing some bills on the counter. "After you," he said, motioning ahead of him.

Taking his hand, she led him out of the bar. They walked through the city, talking. He learned her name was Amanda Lawrence and that she was a financial analyst. He likewise shared with her his name and occupation. The rest of their conversation centered around small talk-nothing heavy. So the subject of wives and/or husbands never came up.

They ended up outside of her apartment, standing in front of the door. She looked up at him, her blue eyes staring into his, a smile on her lips. She curled her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her, kissing him gently on the lips.

Riley didn’t pull away. He hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time and it felt good to make that connection again. Even if it wasn’t with the person he wanted. He linked his arm around her waist and pressed her body against his, deepening the kiss. He felt her arms tighten around him, felt her tongue tangle with his. Finally, he managed to grasp her shoulders and push her away.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked him, out of breath. She touched her hands to his chest lightly.

He loosened his grip on her shoulders and drew his hands slowly down her arms. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, trying to catch his breath. He closed his eyes. "Yes, I would. More than anything," he whispered. "That’s why I can’t."

Amanda sighed. "Denied," she whispered mostly to herself.

Riley opened his eyes and stepped back, his hands still grasping her arms. "It’s not you. I think you’re beautiful. It’s just…it wouldn’t be fair to you." He looked at her closely, seeing the disappointment on her face.

"I understand," she whispered, meeting his gaze. "Really I do."

He let go of her arms. "I’m sorry," he said.

"Don’t be," she replied. "There’s nothing to be sorry about. We had fun. It’s over. Time to move on." She tried to smile.

Riley smiled in return. "Thanks for a nice evening," he said and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. He turned around to go.

He stopped when she said, "Whoever it was that broke your heart, I hope she realizes what she’s lost."

Smiling, Riley answered, "Thank you."

He really had wanted her. But he couldn’t bring himself to take the plunge. What would it have solved? Nothing at all. Perhaps for a few hours, she could have helped him forget it all. Perhaps for a little while he could have pretended that everything in his life was as it should be. But he knew that when he opened his eyes in the morning, it would all come flooding back and that he would be back where he started-searching for a way to get through the day without Buffy.

The first night that Graham was gone, Josh asked her why his dad wasn’t eating dinner with them. Willow hadn’t known what to say. She remembered her husband’s parting words to her-"Tell them whatever you want." She looked at her son and did just that.

She looked at her son, trying to find the right words. He looked at her expectantly, waiting. "Well, Josh. Your dad isn’t going to be living with us for a while." She decided that the truth would be the best thing to tell her children.

"Why not?" the young boy asked, looking at his mother, his eyes wide.

Willow took a deep breath and swallowed down her tears. She took her son’s hand. "Josh, listen to me. Both of you, I want you to listen to me." She looked back and forth between her children. "Your dad is going through a tough time right now. And he needs to go away for a while in order to make things better."

"When’s he coming back?" Anne asked.

"I don’t know, honey. But he won’t be gone forever. He loves you guys more than anything. And he is going to come by all the time to see you. I promise." She tried to smile reassuringly at the two little faces staring at her.

Josh nodded slowly, trying to make his mother feel better. "I understand, Mom. It’s okay."

It wasn’t easy telling her children that their father wasn’t coming home. She had tried to be as honest as possible with them, but she hadn’t told them everything. She hadn’t told them why he left-they were too young to understand anyway. All they knew was that a part of their family was missing.

Not only was he missing out on Willow’s pregnancy, but he was losing so much time with Josh and Anne. He missed spending time with them. Sometimes he would stop by and pick them up to go to a movie. Sometimes he would take them to the park on weekends. But it was never enough. He missed just being in the house and knowing that they were upstairs. He missed hearing them laugh through the open windows as they played outside. He missed tucking them in, reading to them, driving them to school.

It wasn’t always like this. He remembered a time when things were different.

His head was starting to ache from all of the bickering coming from the backseat. Apparently, Anne had invaded Josh’s side of the backseat and Josh was unhappy about it.

"Dad! Tell her to stay on her own side!" Josh screamed from behind Graham.

Graham said patiently, "You don’t have to yell, Josh. I’m sitting right in front of you."

A brief silence filled the car and Graham looked over at Willow briefly, raising his eyebrows. He just knew that he hadn’t heard the last from the backseat and he was mentally preparing himself for the next round. Willow smiled and rested her hand on his knee, squeezing it gently.

He was right. A moment later, Graham heard a smack and then a high-pitched wail as his daughter started to cry. "Josh hit me!" she cried, her sobs intensifying. Graham didn’t say a word. He just pulled the car over and glared at them in the rearview mirror. He saw Anne’s tear-stained face and Josh’s guilty one.

"Joshua? Did you hit your sister?" he asked his son calmly, watching him squirm in the mirror.

"No," Josh muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out into the street.

Graham let out his breath impatiently. "Josh, don’t lie to me. I want you to tell me the truth. Did_you_hit_your_sister?" he said deliberately.

Josh didn’t respond right away. Graham watched him as he tightened his arms across his chest and set his jaw angrily.

"I’m not going to ask you again," Graham said evenly.

Josh relented. "Yeah, but…" he said, trying to argue his case.

Graham put his hand up to silence him. He turned to look at his son over his shoulder. "I don’t care why you did it, Josh. You don’t hit your sister. Okay?" When Josh nodded, Graham said, "Now apologize."

Reluctantly, Josh turned from the window, took a brief glance at his father, and muttered "I’m sorry" in the direction of his sister.

Knowing that was the best he was going to get, Graham let it go. "Thank you," he said to his son. Then he smiled at his daughter. "You okay?" he asked her. She wiped at her eyes and looked up at her father, nodding. He winked at her. "That’s my girl." Then he turned, looked at his wife out of the corner of his eye, and started the car.

He wasn’t sure why he remembered that scene at all. It wasn’t anything significant. Nothing unusual had happened that would make it stick out in his mind. Yet he lay on his bed in the hotel room he had called home for the last few months, thinking about that moment. Perhaps it was significant after all. Perhaps it was significant because they were all together, as a family, on their way to a family dinner. And it didn’t matter that it was full of bickering and discipline. What mattered was that they were together.

It was those moments that he missed the most.

Her eyes flew open. Something was wrong. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she looked around the dark bedroom. Then it hit her-a wave of pain that knocked her back onto the bed, clutching at her belly. Instinctively, she reached for her husband. But he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there when she needed him the most.

The pain shot through her again, catching her by surprise. Was she in labor? That had to be it. But it was too early-she wasn’t due for another three weeks. She flipped on the lamp next to her bed and pushed herself up against the headboard. That’s when she saw it-the blood. Her sheets, her legs were covered in blood. She started to shake, panicking. She didn’t know what to do. Fear gripped her.

She grabbed the phone as another wave of pain washed over her. Gripping the receiver tightly as the tears streamed down her cheeks, she dialed the number of the first person she thought of.

"Graham."

The voice on the other end was one that he hadn’t heard in a long time, but one that he recognized in an instant. He sat up quickly. "Riley."

"Willow’s having the baby, Graham. I think you should come to the hospital." Riley’s voice was strained.

"Is she alright?" Graham asked urgently, feeling his fingers tighten around the phone. His heart started to pound.

There was a brief pause on the other end. "Just get here, Graham. As soon as you can." Riley hung up.

Graham felt his chest tighten. Riley’s words, his voice, were ominous. Something was wrong with Willow. The baby… He bolted off the bed and grabbed his keys, sprinting to his car.

Riley was sitting in the waiting room when Graham ran through the door from the stairwell. Riley could see the fear in his eyes as he approached him, asking, "How is she?"

"I don’t know. No one will tell me," he answered, trying to be calm.

Graham stared at him, wide-eyed, running his hand through his hair. His pulse was racing and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. He couldn’t think straight. All he could see was Willow in pain, all alone. "I need to see her," he said absently, turning from Riley and running to the nurses’ station.

Riley watched as Graham talked and gestured, as the nurse shook her head and tried to smile. He watched as Graham turned from the nurse and walked, shoulders slumped, to the chairs and took a seat, resting his head in his hands, fingers woven through his hair.

He stood for a long time, watching his oldest friend retreat into himself. Graham’s shoulders shook with his sobs and every now and then, he would look down the hall, searching for something that he couldn’t find.

Cautiously, Riley took a seat beside him, listening to his muffled cries. He put a hand on Graham’s shoulder. "She’ll be okay," he said softly.

"I can’t lose her, Riley. I need her," Graham whispered, not able to look at him.

Riley squeezed Graham’s shoulder gently. And as he watched him cry and listened to him pray, he realized how much energy he had wasted hating him. For so long, he had blamed Graham for all of his misery, for every single thing that had gone wrong in his life. It was easier to see Graham as the villain than it was to look towards himself as the source of some of the blame. All he could see was how Graham had betrayed him, had destroyed Willow, had broken up his marriage.

But the man who sat next to him now, barely able to function because of his grief, was nothing like the man that Riley had held up as the embodiment of his resentment. The man that sat next to him now was simply a man who loved his wife, who couldn’t bear the thought of a life without her, and who would do anything to erase the mistakes that had driven them apart in the first place.

The doorbell rang. Buffy’s eyelids fluttered open reluctantly. She looked at the clock-6:12am. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon and the room was bathed in a pinkish-orange glow. She stretched and wondered if perhaps she had imagined it. But then it rang again.

She threw the covers off and put her feet on the floor, yawning. Who could possibly be at the door at this time of the morning? she wondered. Standing, she reached for her robe, pulling it around her as she headed down the stairs. When she got to the door, she looked through the peephole and caught her breath. Riley stood on the porch, illuminated by the glow of the porch light.

Opening the door slowly, she stood in the doorway and looked up into the eyes that she thought she’d never look into again.

He stood in front of her, hands in his pockets, searching for the words that would turn back time. But there were no such words. So he said the next best thing.

"I want to come home."

 

The End