by Amanda Cuff
“Oh no, Drake has feelings,” I joke, and he chuckles.
“It’s just that…I’m with Rachel. I probably shouldn’t be talking about another woman so intimately.”
I want to choose my next words carefully, but I’m tired so my brain tells me to screw decorum and just tell him like it is. “I get that, but a man shouldn’t light up when he’s talking about a near stranger and then look sad when he talks about his girlfriend.”
“Fuck, I know,” he says, rubbing his hand over his face. “It’s just so hard! She wants me to fit into this perfect mold and she wants our relationship to follow her perfect timeline. She’s pissed I haven’t proposed yet. And once that argument is settled, it’s on to…why can’t I at least move in with her? Why can’t I get a different career? Why can’t I leave Gamble Springs? Once we’ve hit all those talking points, we’re fine for a while, and then it just circles back around.”
“Okay, so why can’t you do any of those things?” I ask. “I’m not saying you should, I’m just asking why you don’t want to do those things?”
“Well, I haven’t necessarily said no about moving. It’s just that, this is home. My mom is here, Willow, Chase. And when Emily…” He clears his throat and lowers his voice. “When Emily is no longer here, they’re going to need me. Fuck, I’m going to need them.”
All I can do is nod my head, my throat too full of emotion to manage another word.
“Anyway, enough about me. Let’s talk about the you-know-what,” he says, dropping his eyes to my midsection.
“You know?” I ask surprised.
“Thin walls,” he replies, then cocks his head at me. “A baby is a big fucking deal.”
My face falls and my stomach twists in knots. Suddenly losing my appetite, I lower my pizza down to the plate. For some reason, I feel like I have to defend myself.
I didn’t plan this, I want to shout. I didn’t mean to get pregnant. I didn’t know he was married.
Instead, I take a deep breath and try my best to remain calm. I’m not sure crazy pregnant girl is a good look for me. “I know it’s shit timing. I’m truly sorry for what’s happening—me, intruding into Emily’s space—but I’m not sorry that I’m having this baby.” My voice sounds a little shaky, but I’m proud that I’m at least sticking up for myself.
“Hey, I’m not asking you to be sorry! It’s complicated, sure, but what part of life isn’t? Besides, I’m excited to have a new niece or nephew to hang out with!” His response seems genuine, so I allow my haunches to lower.
We sit in silence then, until I’m fighting back yawns and my eyes are watering.
“Thank you for dinner, Drake, but I’m exhausted. Is it okay if I head to bed?”
“Of course. Please make yourself comfortable around the house and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” He places our plates in the kitchen sink and begins putting the pizza away.
“Thanks, Drake. For everything.”
He sends me his award-winning grin and I leave the room to grab some toiletries.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth in the bathroom—and going pee for the hundredth time that day—I head back to the bedroom.
Up on the bed lies Kevin, eyes closed and softly snoring.
“All right, dude. Let’s do this.”
7
Chase
A man can only stare at the ceiling for so long, talking himself through his problems over and over, before starting to feel like he’s going to come unglued. Minutes tick by. Hours pass. I count sheep, try to read, even take a long hot shower, but nothing is enough to turn my brain off and get some sleep.
With a deep sigh, I grab my cell phone from the charger on my night table and—not for the first time this morning—pull up Addison’s contact information. I hover over the call button—also not for the first time this morning—waiting until the clock ticks from seven fifty-nine to eight.
Waiting. Waiting.
The second the clock changes, I press the button and wait for her to pick up. As the ring trills in my ear, I wonder if it’s too early for me to be calling her. She has to be worn out after the past few days. Maybe I should have waited for her to reach out to me instead of calling her at the ass crack of dawn.
“Hello,” Addison’s groggy voice hits my ear.
I’m immediately taken back to the last time I heard that sexy rasp, when our limbs were wrapped around each other, and my mind was focused solely on her. She might not be in my arms now, but my thoughts are still on her.
“Hey, it’s Chase. Did I wake you?” I feel like a teenager sneaking a call to his girlfriend after his parents have gone to bed, a bundle of nerves and excitement.
“Yes,” she says then giggles softly, “but it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.” Maybe a small part of me is, but mostly, I’m just happy to be hearing her voice. I’m a selfish man.
“Don’t be. I’m glad I’m not the one who had to make the first call.”
I hear her rustling around as she stretches and groans and my mind immediately wanders to what she’s wearing. The color, the material, how easy it would be to remove. I think back to the little sleep shorts she wore in Colorado and how tightly they hugged her round ass.
Is she wearing those shorts now?
“Are you still there?” she asks.
“Yes,” I reply quickly, pushing my dirty thoughts aside and willing certain body parts of mine to cool down. “I’d like to meet up and talk today. Do you have plans?”
“No plans. I’m pretty new around here, remember?” She laughs and then, “When are you free?”
“How about lunch?” Maybe getting out together would help us clear the air better than being stuffed up in the house I live in with my wife. “I could pick you up at noon.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Okay,” I reply.
“Okay,” she says back, and I smirk.
“Talk to you later, Addison.”
“Bye, Chase.”
I place the phone down beside me and roll onto my back. When I stare at the ceiling this time, I feel lighter than I did before.
When I finally wrapped things up at work last night, I popped by my mom and dad’s to pick up Willow. She was supposed to spend the night but decided last minute that she would prefer to sleep at home. Their bi-monthly sleepovers ended back at our house more often than not lately. Emily had been awake long enough to text me to grab Willow, but she was back to sleep by the time I got home. I’ve spent the hours since tossing and turning, but now it’s time to talk.
First, I need reinforcements.
I make my way through the hall and down the stairs as quietly as I can, hoping not to wake Emily and Willow. I don’t want to face the first without coffee, and the second is a grouch if she doesn’t wake up on her own. We have to set her alarm twenty minutes earlier each morning just to spend that time trying to bribe her out of bed. Some days it works, but usually, she’s not out the door and on the bus until the very last second.
After starting a fresh pot of coffee, I walk over to the window above the kitchen sink, sliding it up to let in some fresh air, then I make myself busy gathering mugs. Feeling a little nostalgic, I reach for the World’s Okayest Dad mug that has Willow’s wiggly two-year-old handprint on the side. I stare at it for a moment, longing for those days back. When Emily was healthy and Willow was carefree, when the fear of her mother dying didn’t cloud every day. Before all our good days became too hard for me to enjoy because I knew they were only temporary. Before I wished away all our bad days, praying for a time when it would all be done and I wouldn’t have to see pain etched along my girls’ faces day in and day out.
Living with someone who is dying is an emotional rollercoaster. Five years ago, I still had hope. I truly believed she would be able to fight this. She had a strong support system, a great team of doctors within only a few hours’ drive, and she was strong.
But those days of hope are a thing of the past. I’ve
done my best to come to terms with the path we’re on. I’ve spent my fair share of nights awake into the morning hours, drank until I was numb, talked it through with Drake over and over. Cursed God. Begged God. You name it, I’ve done it. But instead of any good news, we’ve only come closer to running out of time.
I finish up in the kitchen and head up the stairs to Emily’s room. I hug one hot mug in between my chest and forearm so I can turn the knob slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible. When I peek my head in, I find her lying on her side. She’s facing the door, phone in hand. Her eyes move to my face when she notices me, but she says nothing. When I push the door open a little wider and her coffee mug comes into view, a smile grows on her face. Of course the coffee gets me a more welcome greeting.
“Who are you Facebook stalking?” I tease, moving into the room and pushing the door partly closed with my butt. I carefully transfer the mug back into my hand and place it on her nightstand.
She sets her phone down on her blanket. “Oh my gosh, I looked at his profile one time. ONE TIME! That does not make me some crazy stalker.” Teeth gritted, she scoots herself into a sitting position, her movements just as slow and calculated as yesterday. She grabs the steaming cup between her two hands, taking a small, hesitant sip.
I smile at the look of contentment on her face and walk around her bed with my own mug, settling myself on top of the covers. “I’d beg to differ. I’m pretty sure looking into any ex without their knowledge is the very definition of stalking. And I guarantee it’s been more than once over the years.”
“Hey, his profile is public. That’s on him, not me,” she says, not disagreeing with my accusation.
I make a noncommittal sound in my throat as I fold one of her pillows in half and lean against it on the headboard.
“Besides, if he knew I looked him up, you know he’d just bask in the glory of still having my attention.” She rolls her eyes, trying to play it off like she doesn’t care, but I’ve seen her cry over his absence enough times throughout the years to know better.
After ten years, she still pines after him. I wish she’d had the opportunity to move on, maybe even fall in love again, but that’s just another opportunity cancer robbed from her.
“I’m sorry he’s a douche. He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” I say. But I’m a douche too, because no matter how much I hate that he walked out on her and Willow, I’m thankful that they’re mine.
Her sad smile is her only answer and she turns back to her coffee.
“I hope you know this thing with Addison had nothing to do with my commitment to you and Willow. I can’t say that it meant nothing, because it did. And I can’t say that I regret it, because I don’t, but—”
“Hang on a second, Chase. You really think I’m upset you slept with her?!” She rolls her eyes at me like I’m the world’s biggest idiot—and maybe I am.
“I don’t really know what to think, but I’m sure you have plenty to say to me, so let’s hear it,” I say, motioning my hands for her to lay it on me.
Of course, she doesn’t disappoint, her finger and loud whisper immediately striking the air between us. “You’re a dumbass, Chase William Prescott. That poor woman cried her eyes out all night long thinking you cheated on me with her. How terrible do you think she must have felt, thinking she might have destroyed our marriage?”
If there’s one thing that can be said about Emily, it’s that she’s a woman’s woman. It’s a trait I first noticed in high school. When the other girls began to fight over boys and were catty to each other at every turn, Emily always took the high road, choosing to build others up and cheer them on. She’s always sheltered, protected, and stuck up for any woman she felt was being wronged. That’s why I’m not surprised she’s trying to smooth things over for Addison’s sake; I just wish she’d take a bit more time to consider what’s best for her in the mix of everything too.
“I already feel like a piece of shit for all this,” I say with a grimace. “I probably should have handled things differently, but I was caught off guard. I was honest with her, maybe not from the beginning like I should have been, but when I told her I was married, I didn’t have time to say anything else before she was gone.”
“Right, and you didn’t run after her or try to explain things. That’s why I had to find her. I probably shouldn’t have gone butting into things and, to be honest, it took me some time to digest it all, but I couldn’t just let her think the worst of you.”
“I know, Em. I understand why you talked to her,” I tell her. “I just wish you hadn’t decided that it needed to be taken care of in the middle of the night. Or on your own.”
“I had a lot of emotions to work through and I needed to do that on my own. At first, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe you actually let your guard down and spent time with a woman.” She says it with a look of wonder on her face, like the thought of me with a woman is that hard of a concept to fathom. “And then, yeah, I was angry. Because I’m dying, Chase.”
“Emily,” I start, putting down my coffee cup and twisting my body to face her.
“No, hush. This is why I had to talk to Addison on my own. You’re always trying to make everything better for me and sometimes I just need to wallow in my self-pity. I needed to process my thoughts on my own and in my own time, without the guilt of what was right or fair.”
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“I’m leaving. And you and Willow are staying. That’s been hard enough to come to terms with and I don’t think I’ll ever completely get there, but now it’s bigger than that. Now, Addison gets you, and you come with Willow. It’s hard not to feel like I’m being replaced.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it in my own. “You know you could never be replaced. You will always be Willow’s mother and my best friend. There is no changing that.” My throat is strained with emotion.
I wish this wasn’t our reality. We’ve talked about it time and time again and still, there are these moments where it feels like a fresh slap to the face.
Emily is going to die.
That overwhelming reminder has me leaning into her and squeezing her hand tighter.
My parents raised me to believe I could have anything I wanted in life as long as I worked hard to achieve it. They taught me that nothing was unattainable, and I’ve lived with that mantra in mind. But for the first time in my life, I’m being faced with an impossible situation, one I can’t make right for the people I love. Helpless isn’t a feeling I do well with.
“Yeah, I do know that, but I’m only human,” she says. “I’m going to feel territorial when it comes to you and Willow. You’re my family. And sure, I knew that someday, you would find someone to love and you’d probably have more children, but I never thought I would be around to witness it.”
The word love in relation to Addison makes me feel queasy. Not because it doesn’t feel right, but because it does. I turn my eyes downward and realize Emily has stopped talking and is looking up at me thoughtfully.
“I really like her,” she says quietly. “I was terrified to talk to her yesterday morning, Chase. Oh my god, you should have seen me. I was shaking so bad and was just a complete mess. But the last of my anger disappeared when I saw how devastated she was. It’s not that I wanted her to feel bad, but the fact that she did…it made me feel like she might just be worthy of you after all. Plus, she made it clear that she ha no intentions of trying to steal you away from me.”
I look over at my best friend. The mother of my child. The woman who has been by my side during the most important moments of my life.
“No one could ever steal me away from you,” I tell her.
It’s the cancer stealing you from me.
8
Addison
When I hang up with Chase, I’m too anxious to go back to sleep, so I drag myself out of bed instead. I survey my pajamas—a spaghetti strap tank and a pair of shorts—and decide to change into something more appropriate. After a quick search in
my still-packed suitcase, I settle on a pair of purple workout capris and a white V-neck tee.
After a trip to the bathroom to relieve my screaming bladder and brush my teeth, I head toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water, surprised to find Drake already standing at the fridge.
“You’re up early,” I say, greeting him with a large smile.
“Yeah, I’m an early riser. Would you like some juice?” he asks, raising a carton in the air.
“Please.” I take a large and exaggerated step over a sprawled-out Kevin and sit down at the table.
If the masculine scent in the room is any indication, Drake is fresh from the shower. He’s sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a black wife beater. His hair is a just-out-of-bed mess, but it’s working for him.
“I see you and Kev must have had a falling out,” he says, handing me a glass of juice and leaning against the counter with his own.
“You told me I didn’t have to worry about his gas!” I exclaim, thinking back on the night.
Kevin started off at the end of the bed then slowly worked his way up beside me. At first, I found myself enjoying his presence. He was warm and cozy, and it was nice not to be sleeping alone. Then, the farting started. And soon, his gas got so bad that I couldn’t stop dry heaving. Eventually, I had to kick him out. I’ll admit, I felt bad about it, but that feeling was short lived when I drifted off to some of the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life.
Drake throws his head back and laughs. “No, I told you that he only has gas if he eats one thing.”
“Which is?”
“Pizza,” he replies dryly, a devilish twinkle in his eye.
“Drake!” I laugh. “Why do I think you did that on purpose?”
“I didn’t, I swear!” He throws his hands up in defense. “I didn’t think about it until you were already asleep. But I’m sure he’d enjoy the chance to make it up to you tonight. I promise not to feed him pizza this time.”
I look down at the giant pup on the floor, who doesn’t really look all that bothered at having spent most of his night in the living room.
