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Amanda's apartment is just how it was the last time he was here. The girls toys littered around the living room, Franny's bed squished up against the wall, the wine glass and beer bottle on the coffee table.
If Sonny looks hard enough, he can still see the indentions of their bodies on the couch.
It's as if time stood still.
Because it's been a month. A month since he got the call that dropped him to his knees in the middle of all of his colleagues. A month since he had to console two screaming little girls while wanting to scream right along with them. A month since a little part of him died right along with her.
A month. And it still feels like he's living in the moment of tragedy.
The static of the quiet seeps the memories out of his brain. Them on the couch, her molded against his side. Laughing. The inside jokes. The corny reality tv nights. Tucking the girls in together and reading them stories in different voices with overly dramatic acting. The night he wanted to kiss her outside of her motel room. The night he held her in the elevator. The night that he almost confessed it all to her. What if...
He snaps back to reality and hangs his head. Tears brim his eyelids and slowly make their way down his cheeks. His tired, grief stricken body gives out on him and he sits on the floor. Legs crossed and elbows on his knees, face in his hands.
He lets it all out. He cries so hard he thinks the veins in his eyes are going to burst. He cries until he feels empty. Until his chest burns. It feels hollow and heavy and full of anger. And regret. All the things he ever wanted to say to her will live in a small storage space tucked away in his brain. Sitting to collect dust until he's with her again.
Hey lays back on the floor and sucks in a deep breath. The image of him laying in almost the exact same spot weeks ago tossing Billie up in the air as Amanda half-heartedly yells at him to stop flashes into his memories. He didn't. Billie was laughing so hard she was crying. "I warned ya, if she throws up on ya, its on you..."
A small smile creeps across his face, but quickly fades.
He heaves a sigh trying to compose himself as he gets back up, dragging his feet over to the pile of boxes he left before. With one hand he flicks a folded box out and pops it open. He starts in the girls rooms, packing up as much as he can to take it back to his place.
As active godparent, he was granted full custody of the girls without having to put up a fight against Amanda's family. A fight he would've died fighting if it had came down to it.
That was the only shining beacon in this whole tragedy.
He gets to raise the girls that he's grown to love as his own daughters.
He just never thought he'd be doing it without her...