It was around half past one in the morning when he finally grew tired of tossing and turning among the sheets and quietly crept to the living room. There he plopped down on the couch without even bothering to turn on the light.
He just couldn't stop thinking of Charlotte tonight. What a merry little soul she had been before meeting her untimely death.
"Forgive me, honey. I never wanted it to end this way. I'm so sorry…"
Bitter tears began trickling down his cheeks. No parent should ever survive his own child, let alone causing their death.
How could he think that the likes of him actually deserved to father another child – another innocent creature doomed to suffer because of his foolishness?
Nonetheless, he ached for that precious little life he was still four months from meeting. He wanted to hold his baby, feel the warmth of that tiny body – so small and yet so perfect already.
He buried his face in his hands as uncontrollable sobs racked his chest. That was when he felt a gentle arm wrapping around his shoulders.
"What's wrong?"
It took him a moment to regain control of his emotions. "You should be sleeping, Teresa."
"You should too."
"I'm sorry. It's just… I'm afraid, that's all."
Her arms slid around his neck as she hugged him tightly – his head now resting against her belly.
"Nothing is going to happen to me or to the baby, Patrick. We're both fine."
"You can never tell. Look what happened with my late wife and daughter…"
She kissed him softly on top of his head. "Patrick. Red John is dead. And you're not a jinx or anything like that."
"Our child would have deserved a better father though."
"It wouldn't have been our child then."
Her logic made him smile in spite of himself. "Point taken, my love."
"You're going to make a good father. Just think about that."
"Okay."
He snuggled further into her embrace, placing a loving kiss on her swollen belly. With Teresa looking after him perhaps he wasn't going to make the same mistakes again…