Saving Grace

I saw John's figure pass by the living room in the television's screen after two hours of laying in the dark, staring at the blank, reflective surface. Silently, I leaned up when I heard the door open and click close. I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders as I silently crossed the room and peered out the tall, vertical window beside the door.

John was sitting on the porch steps, looking out at really nothing. I opened the door and stepped outside before sitting beside him. He didn't notice, or maybe ignored my presence as I stared across the street at the neighbor's house.

We sat in a comfortable silence before I cleared my throat lightly. "What's your favorite color?"

He turned to look at me with an odd expression but answered with 'green' nonetheless.

"Well, are you going to be rude or ask me my favorite color?" I asked teasingly, looking up at the stars. I noted that the Big Dipper was visible. I'd never been the most interested in astronomy but that constellation was one that I could almost always pick out.

"I already know your favorite color," he stated.

I looked at him curiously. "And how do you know that?"

"Your car is blue, most of your wardrobe consists of blue jeans and blue tops and you seem to like the blue M&Ms that you thought no one had saw you eating yesterday. I'm going to have to assume that your favorite color is blue."

I gaped at him. "You're right, what else do you think you know about me?"

"You get really embarrassed by your stuttering- which hasn't been so bad lately, might I say- but of course, that's really no secret.

"This is just a wild guess here, but I'm going to have to say that your favorite song is Someday You Will Be Loved by Death Cab For Cutie; you kept mouthing the words to it on our drive down here." He knew he was right by the look on my face. "You're not close with your parents, especially your father."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering how he knew that.

"He wasn't the nicest guy to you and your mother took his side over yours all the time; I overheard the conversation you had with my mom... The day that I walked in on you in the bathroom... I didn't mean to, the smell of you two baking was driving me nuts so I planned on stealing a cookie when I heard the both of you talking."

I stared at him in a mixture of shock and awe. "Creeper," I finally muttered when I composed myself.

"I'm not a creeper! I just notice things... I can't help it!"

I smiled at him and allowed my eyes to scan the neighborhood.

"You're excited to become a mom..." I turned back to him with a questioning look. He nodded toward my stomach where I was subconsciously resting my hands. I blushed lightly and nervously tucked an unruly wave of my hair behind my ear. "You have nervous habits, too. Like tucking your hair behind your ear and tapping your fingers, sometimes you chew on your lower lip."

I scowled at him. "You wrinkle your nose a little when you're angry too," he pointed out.

"What!? No I don't!"

He laughed and nodded his head. "You do, you don't even realize it. It's not the terrible kind of wrinkling. You can just barely tell; it's actually kind of cute," I frowned and rolled my eyes as another silence filled the time between us. "I think you'll be a good mom," he said softly after a moment.

I studied him as he looked across the lawn. "You really think so?" I whispered.

He nodded, looking to me with a soft smile. "Yeah, I do."

I smiled at him. "Thanks.” With a goober grin, I looked toward the neighbor’s house again before sighing. “It's apparent than you know a little more about me than I do about you. What's your favorite dessert?"

The night slowly faded to morning as John and I made light conversation, trying our hardest to avoid the reality that was sure to catch up to us in a matter of hours.

-----

I forced my eyes open and stared at the ceiling above.

Today, after days and days of planning and dealing with the grieving, was Bree's funeral.

My stomach sank within my body cavity at the thought and before pushing myself up to start getting ready.

John was nowhere in sight. Regardless of that though, I got up and forced my weary self into the bathroom where I took a quick shower. It wasn't until I got out of the warm spray that I realized just how pale I looked. Dark circles sat beneath my eyes and my lips matched the pallor shade of my skin.
I didn't feel right, but then again, I hated funerals as much as I hated the bouts of morning sickness that I had been experiencing lately.

I quickly did my make-up to make myself look a little less ill before focusing my attention on my hair.

After I was completely ready, with the exception of my lack of shoes, I stepped out of the bathroom and made my way toward the kitchen where I was positive everyone was huddling in.

I slapped a completely fake and cheery smile over my face as I entered the room, hoping to lighten the mood though I knew that it was going to be a wasted effort on my part.

Shane was too busy consuming a bowl of mushy cereal to notice my presence but the three other men in the room returned my smile half-heartedly. I perched on one of the counter stools after pouring myself a cup of decaffeinated coffee and took small sips in attempt to ease my unsettled stomach.

John leaned against the opposite counter and gulped down what I assumed to be his fourth or fifth cup of coffee. He casually picked at a bagel but didn't eat much of it. Jay was looking over the paper, trying to make everything it seem like today was just another ordinary day while Ross was tiredly fixing himself toast.

It was tense though there was perfectly good reasoning for it. They all had known Bree’s statics for surviving were slim but death was still so hard to accept.

"I suppose," Jay started, folding his paper and setting it aside before pushing himself out of his chair. "I'm going to go get ready. The three of you boys should too. We have a long day ahead of us," he said with a light sigh, looking to his sons and glancing at me one last time before taking his leave to change.

Shane, as if told something terribly disgusting, allowed his spoon to fall from his fingers into his bowl and stood. He dropped the ceramic dish in the sink before he left the room, making me pity the poor boy even more so. Ross grumbled something as he followed his younger brother, leaving only John and I in the open kitchen.

He turned his green eyes to me before pushing his body away from the counter. "Nick is coming," he stated as he walked by me. I froze as I heard his footsteps slowly fade away as he distanced himself from me.

Nick, my Nicholas, was coming.

I wasn't sure how this was going to all work out: John had feelings for me. Nick had feelings for me. And I had some sort of feelings for the both of them… This was now beyond fucked up.