by J. L. Berg
“And Reed knows this?”
“Since we were kids. My dad never made it a point of keeping it from us. The man my mom had slept with wanted nothing to do with me, so I was just this constant reminder to my dad of her infidelity. A burden. They tried to keep up pretenses—they even had Reed. But my dad never forgave her.”
“Is that why they treat you so poorly?”
He shrugged, but there was an edge to it. I knew he was trying to downplay something that hurt him deeply. “I guess it was just easier that way. To pretend I didn’t exist.”
“But your mom? Surely, she stuck up for you?”
Shaking his head, he answered, “She knew her place—right beside my dad.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you still want me, Elle. Tell me you don’t regret this. Us. Everything.”
I took a deep breath, trying to imagine my life without him. I could walk away, leave this entire mess behind me.
No more Gallaghers. No more drama.
But I couldn’t.
He was ingrained in me. Part of me.
We were two halves of a whole.
But how could I trust him? How could I trust anyone?
“I can’t stop thinking about that night at the bar.”
His eyes met mine. “I know, and I’m sorry. But believe me, I didn’t have some devious plot to end your marriage so I could swoop in. I was just trying to be the brother he’d never allowed me to be. He was hurting. I offered a helping hand. I should have known better.”
“I know.”
If there was one thing I knew about Sawyer, it was that, above all else, he was kind. Helping out a brother who loathed him sounded exactly like something he’d do.
“But I can’t forget that you had a part in it. If you had never brought him there… I used to think this was some divine plan—that we were meant to be—but I can’t help but feel like it’s all—”
“Wrong?”
“Yeah.”
He chewed over my words for some time, carefully choosing his own. “Look, Elle, I don’t know if we were some sort of fated plan or if we just happened to stumble into one another at the right moment in time, but what I do know is how I feel about you. And yes, Reed was right. Those feelings didn’t just start when I walked into your store that day, but I had given up on them a long time ago. My intentions were honorable,” he said before adding with a sly smile, “Well, mostly.”
“Why did you walk into my store that day?”
“I wanted to check on you,” he confessed. “I knew your father had just died, and after what Reed put you through, I had to know if you were okay.”
“So, you didn’t need a job?”
He could see the humor behind my eyes. “Oh, I definitely did, but I had planned on getting one that actually paid. I couldn’t work for my dad anymore.”
Biting my bottom lip, I felt a twinge of guilt. “Are you struggling because of me?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m thriving because of you. For the first time in my life, I’m choosing to do what I want rather than what will inconvenience my family the least. I’m sick of being invisible.”
“Is that what the phone call was over? Your new rebellious nature?”
“Basically,” he answered. “My mom called, trying to talk some sense into me. She’d heard through the grapevine about you and me and hoped I wouldn’t continue my embarrassing behavior—for the sake of the family.”
“She said that?”
“In so many words, yes.”
Something clicked together in my mind. The missing puzzle pieces that I’d so desperately wanted to find were suddenly fitting together. “She’s why you lost that job for the family friend, isn’t she?”
He nodded. “She gave me an ultimatum. Give up my ridiculous infatuation with my brother’s ex-wife, or she’d make sure I didn’t have a chance in hell of making it in the furniture business.”
“But it’s your dream.”
“No,” he answered, rising from his chair to kneel before me. “You are. When are you going to see that?”
It was everything I’d wanted to hear—to be someone’s everything.
Their endgame.
Their forever.
I wanted to tell him exactly the same—that I chose him, that he was my everything—but words failed me. So, I answered him with my body, with my touch. Every caress was a yes to us. To our future.
Every kiss told him I loved him—unconditionally.
He was my perfect match.
We made love slowly that night, as if we had forever—because both of us believed exactly that.
But when I woke up the next morning, the chill of air bringing me back to reality, I realized I wasn’t ready.
So, I ran.
From him. From our future.
From the possibility of failure.
Believing in love didn’t make it real.
Was this just another doomed fairy tale?
I was a coward.
There was no other way to look at it, and as much as I wanted to believe this was nothing more than me taking some time for myself, I knew what I was doing.
I was running.
Fleeing a situation too big for me to handle.
Escaping feelings I hadn’t been prepared to feel.
Leaving only a scribbled-out note for him to find, I’d snuck out of my own house in the cover of darkness, running away from Sawyer who was still asleep in my bed.
I thought I had no idea where I was headed, just that I needed to put some distance between us. I simply got in the car and drove.
But as the miles dragged on, I discovered I knew exactly where I was going.
Four hours later, I found myself pulling up to the palatial palace that was my brother’s family home. When I stepped out of the car, the smell of the ocean hit me instantly. It was a grand place with white columns and a perfectly landscaped exterior.
I’d been here only a handful of times. My brother and I loved each other, but I wouldn’t say our relationship was the closest. Since he’d moved away for college, we’d been more acquaintances than siblings, and neither of us seemed to mind.
I wasn’t sure what had brought me here. Looking up at the place, I seriously contemplated getting back in the car and turning around. But the second my mom stepped out the door, I knew.
I’d come for her.
Nothing was right in the world without her.
With a toddler on her hip, she met me halfway, pulling me into a tight one-armed hug. “What a lovely surprise,” she said.
I took that moment to breathe her in. She smelled of jasmine and lavender, a smell that took me back to my childhood almost instantly.
How many times had I nuzzled my head against her chest, crying over scraped knees or broken friendships, knowing she was my safe place?
My home.
“I missed you, Mom,” I said, not realizing there were tears falling from my eyes.
“Oh, Ellie,” she answered, holding me tighter. “I missed you too.”
“Why did you go?” I asked, wiping the moisture from my cheeks. “Why didn’t you call?”
She placed my niece down, the little girl’s attention completely focused on the toy in her hand, then my mom cupped my face. “I wanted to. You don’t know how many times I picked up my phone and then talked myself out of it.”
“But why?” I asked. “I needed you.”
Her expression shifted as she tilted her head to the side and took me in. “Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll explain? And then maybe, after a cup of coffee, you can tell me why you’re here?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
I followed her inside, my niece tagging along behind her. I noticed right away how natural she seemed in her new habitat.
But it wasn’t the only thing I noticed.
As we walked inside, I took a moment to really look at her. She walked with purpose, her back straight and her gaze forward. It was a stark contrast to t
he frail woman I’d taken care of at my father’s funeral.
“You look good, Mom,” I said as we entered the kitchen.
It was gleaming and new. Bright white cabinets lined the walls while marble covered basically everything else. It screamed money and excess, something I’d never associated with my mom but she seemed at home nonetheless.
“Thank you,” she answered, moving about the kitchen with ease as she prepared our coffee in my brother’s fancy coffeemaker.
“Are you happy?”
She turned to me, her eyes brighter than they’d been in years. “I am,” she answered. “It’s a different kind of happiness without your father, but it feels good to be needed. Being here gives me purpose, and I didn’t know how much I needed that in my life.”
“But you had purpose, Mom. The store—”
“Wasn’t mine anymore,” she finished.
“What do you mean? Of course it was yours.”
“It was something I realized shortly after your father’s funeral. Returning didn’t feel the same. I wasn’t the same. I watched you supervise the arrival of that new inventory, admiring how well you’d done, and it hit me—I didn’t belong there anymore.”
“Mom,” I began, but she quickly stopped me.
“And I was happy to walk away.”
“But it was your life.”
She shook her head. “It was part of my life—one I loved dearly. But life changes. Priorities change. People change.”
“And this was the change you needed?” I asked.
She sat down beside me as the coffee percolated in the background. “I think so.”
“I guess I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me. Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”
Taking my hand, she squeezed it between her own. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I think, in the beginning, it was just an idea—something your brother and I talked about in the hypothetical. But then, when your dad started to reach the end of his life, I knew I wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces after he was gone.”
“You wouldn’t have had to. I was there.”
She smiled. “You were. You always were. And that’s what finally made up my mind—the fact that I knew if I stayed, your life would always revolve around mine, and I didn’t want that. I never wanted to be a burden to you.”
“You were never a burden,” I argued. “If anything, I was yours.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“My marriage exploded, and I moved home when you were just starting to deal with Daddy’s cancer. Helping out was the only way I could show my gratitude.”
“Yes, maybe that was your intention at first. But I think, in time, we became your distraction. Your crutch. You hid behind your duties to us rather than trying to move on after Reed.”
“I was happy to do it.”
“I know dear, which is exactly why I had to go. You would have been happy with taking care of me for the rest of my days, and then what?”
“I…” I had no answer.
“You needed the push.”
“So, you gave me the store and the house. But why didn’t you call?”
It was the one question I’d wanted to ask more than anything. Why had she abandoned me?
“I knew you were angry when I left. I knew you were hurt, but I also knew you needed time. Time away from me. Time to face everything you’d been avoiding and time to finally move on.”
“I thought you were mad at me,” I confessed. “I thought you needed to get away from me.”
“No, sweetheart. I could never be mad at you.”
She pulled me into her arms. These were the arms that had given me comfort throughout my entire life.
Today was no exception.
Pulling back, she gave me a warm smile. “Now, how about I fix our coffee, and we can finally talk about why you’re really here?”
I nodded, not wanting my visit with her to ever end. As I watched her grab mugs from the cabinet, I couldn’t help but wonder, why am I here?
What was I running from?
Life with Sawyer was amazing. The store was getting on the right track, and I’d never felt happier.
So, what was my hang-up? Why had I driven all the way here?
“How did you know Daddy was the one?” I finally asked as she came back to the kitchen island and took a seat.
My niece was happily watching a kids program in the attached living room while the baby slept in his nursery.
Her smile returned. “Does this have something to do with Sawyer?”
My eyes widened. “How did you—” And then it hit me. “Aunt Sally?”
She nodded, taking a sip from her mug. “I might not have called, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t check up on you.”
“That’s sneaky.”
“She said you sounded happy when she spoke with you.”
“I am,” I said before correcting myself, “At least, I think I am.”
“What makes you so unsure?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “He’s perfect. We’re perfect together.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have driven across state lines to visit your mommy. Now, how about you start from the beginning?”
I thought about her words—the beginning.
Where did I start? Two months ago when he’d stumbled into my store?
Or the two decades I’d spent loving his brother?
I’d thought life was pretty perfect back then too.
Believing in love doesn’t make it real…
“Mom, I have something to tell you,” I said, realizing the root of my dilemma. “It’s about Nana.”
It was time to come clean—about my feelings for Sawyer, about the loss I’d felt when she left.
And it all started with a leather journal.
My mom hadn’t said anything for a full five minutes.
After I handed her one of the secret journals—the one with the note written out to her and Sally—I’d watched as she turned it over in her hand, inspecting it for what felt like a millennium.
“You said there are more like this?” she asked, her voice timid and small.
“Yes,” I answered, grateful I’d brought it with me. “Three in total.”
Her fingers trailed down the intricate flower border. It was as if she were committing every detail to memory.
“And you’ve read them?”
I simply nodded. “Most of them anyway. Enough to know that it didn’t work out. Was it wrong of me to tell you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I would have hated for you to carry that secret just to spare me the pain of knowing.”
“So, you are… pained?” I didn’t know if that was the right way to phrase it, but she seemed to understand.
“It’s not an easy thing to contemplate—finding out your mother wasn’t the person you’d thought she was. But I’m glad I know. It gives me some insight to what she went through. She was never much of a talker, especially after Dad got sick.”
“You two have that in common.” I smiled, remembering how much she’d kept everything so close to her chest that year.
“I guess we do.”
“Did you ever know William was your uncle?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. Family wasn’t something my father ever spoke about. I didn’t know why, but I knew well enough not to ask.”
That sounds familiar.
I wanted to say more, to tell her everything I’d learned in those three notebooks, but my thoughts were interrupted at the sound of the front door.
“Whose car is that outside?” my brother shouted. “Is Eloise here?”
I rolled my eyes. In all his years on this Earth, he’d never called me Elle. It was always Eloise, as if nicknames were beneath him.
“Ah, yes,” he announced, entering the kitchen. “There you are. Did you forget Thanksgiving isn’t until the end of the month?”
Thanksgiving? The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.
&
nbsp; “She just came for a visit. But that does remind me. Will you be staying for Thanksgiving? We’d love to have you.”
“Oh,” I answered, realizing the holiday season had completely snuck up on me. Usually, it was mom who organized everything holiday-related. Wasn’t Halloween just yesterday? “I don’t think I can. The store—”
“The store can survive without you,” Jack insisted. “This is our first Thanksgiving without Dad. You should be here with your family.”
It sounded more like an order than an invitation to dinner.
“Thanksgiving is still a few weeks away,” I reminded him. “I can’t just close the store, Jack. It doesn’t work like that. This is a busy time of the year.”
His eyes leveled on my mom, and he looked very disgruntled. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”
“What?” I demanded, my gaze darting back and forth between them. “Tell me what?”
I watched as my mother and brother appeared to have a silent conversation. She shook her head, and his stare deepened.
“She’s dying,” he said plainly, as if he were reading the newspaper out loud or discussing the weather.
“Oh, stop, Jack. I am not dying.”
“No? That’s not what the doctor said.”
They began to argue as my brain quietly exploded. They fired words back and forth at each other until, finally, I’d had enough.
“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” I shouted.
Silence.
Complete silence followed my demand as the two of them stared each other down.
“Mom has breast cancer.”
My breath caught in my throat, and I swore my heart stopped.
“No.” It was all I could say. This wasn’t possible. Hadn’t we been through enough? My father… and now this?
It couldn’t be happening.
Again.
“But you look so healthy. I don’t understand—”
“She found out when Dad was sick, and she kept it a secret—from everyone. She refused treatment, putting Dad’s needs first, and now, she’s paying the price.”
“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” she said as I looked up.
