Hook

by Chelle Bliss

  Roger laughs again. It’s hard not to with a kid like Tate. “I like this kid.”

  “She’s a hungry little thing.” Vinnie pats her on the shoulder. “Just like her uncle. I’m sorry we barged in here like that.”

  I wave him off. “It’s fine, Vinnie. You’re always welcome.” I turn toward Tate, who’s moved her attention toward the display case. “Tate too.”

  Vinnie rubs the back of his neck. “Tate insisted we come get her daily cupcake.”

  “Kid forgets nothing,” I say with a laugh.

  “Not when it comes to food.”

  “Why don’t you help her pick something out and whatever you’d like too.”

  Vinnie’s eyes light up. “Are you sure? I’m happy to pay.”

  I shake my head. “I insist.”

  Vinnie nods before joining Tate by the display case. I watch them as they stand hand in hand, staring at all the cupcakes.

  “He’s a hot one.” Roger leans over and whispers in my ear.

  “He’s like twenty years old.”

  “They must be descendants of Roman gods. I mean, look at that.” He motions toward Vinnie’s ass as he bends over to talk to Tate.

  I smack his chest with the back of my hand. “You need help.”

  He shrugs. “I’m going to take out the trash for you, and then I have to run.”

  “Where are you going so early?”

  “I have a meeting at noon with a new client.”

  “Call me later?” I ask.

  He leans forward and kisses my cheek. “You’ll be the first to hear how it went. Now go get the kid a cupcake before she slobbers all over the glass.”

  I smack him again. For all the love Roger has to give, he’s not much of a kid person. His apartment and clothes are immaculate, and there’s no place for a messy kid in his life. He’d be a great father if he’d let go of some of his obsessive cleaning disorder.

  “So.” I walk toward Vinnie and Tate as Roger disappears into the back room. “What looks good?”

  “Everything,” Tate whispers with wide eyes.

  “These are really something, Tilly.” Vinnie looks up at me over the case. “I can see why she insisted we come here.”

  “I like seeing her so happy.”

  Kids are resilient. With everything she’s been through, she deserves to have a smile on her face always. A cupcake is the least I can do to make that happen.

  “You seem to have that effect on a lot of people in our family,” Vinnie says, knocking the wind out of me.

  “What’s that one called?” Tate points to the cupcake covered in chocolate frosting and bits of dried banana.

  “That’s the Funky Monkey.”

  Tate erupts in laughter.

  “You want one?”

  “Yes!”

  “Make it two,” Vinnie says. “We’ll take them back next door because we’ve taken up enough of your time.”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

  Sometimes the quiet in the shop is almost too much for me to bear. I can’t wait for the day I officially open the doors and there’re people bursting at the seams, allowing me to focus less on who’s missing and more on what’s ahead.

  “Thanks, Tilly,” Tate says as I hand her a box with two Funky Monkeys. “You’re the best.”

  She’s buttering me up, and I’m swallowing it hook, line, and sinker. Tate’s charming, just like the rest of her family. She’s someone I have quickly found myself pulled toward, and I could easily love her as my own.

  “Stop over for a drink or some food later,” Vinnie says. “I’m sure my brother would like to see you.”

  I nod my head, but I’m not sure about being in Angelo’s presence at this moment. I could fall hard for that man, but am I ready to take that step?

  “See you later, Tilly.” Tate holds her box like it contains a treasure.

  I wave, not moving otherwise as I watch them walk out the front door and head next door to the bar. Angelo’s entire family is something I’ve always dreamed about. Growing up as an only child was lonely and sometimes smothering because my parents focused their attention only on me. I wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up with so many brothers and never have that feeling of being truly alone.

  “Roger,” I call out when I hear the back door slam shut. I figured he’d come back out front and say goodbye, but he disappeared without another word.

  When I walk into the kitchen, I see an envelope propped up next to my mixer with my name written in Mitchell’s handwriting. I run, snatching up the paper as quickly as possible, and drag my fingers across the script.

  When I turn it over, there’s a Post-it from Roger.

  Don’t open until later. Love, Roger xoxo

  14

  Angelo

  “Do you love me?” Marissa asks as she gazes up at me. Her hand’s covering my heart, warming my skin from the cool fall breeze.

  “I do.” I cover her hand with my own. “More than the stars in the sky above us.”

  “Will you forget me?”

  “How could I?”

  She props herself up on her elbow, hovering above me. “You need to move on,” she says softly. “I can’t stay with you forever.”

  I slide my hand against her cheek, cupping her face in my palm. “I want to be with you always.”

  “I’ll always be here.” She presses softly against my chest. “Watching over you. But it’s time,” she tells me as her body starts to fade.

  I gasp, sitting straight up, half asleep with tears streaming down my face. My dreams of Marissa have virtually stopped. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen her when I close my eyes. I’m both comforted and overcome with grief from the dream, feeling like I lost her all over again.

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed, letting the tears fall to the floor. I feel such anger in this moment, wishing I could crawl back into the dream and hating myself for waking up.

  “Come back,” I whisper into the darkness. “Just one more time.”

  She’s never said those words to me before. Not in a dream, at least. It’s like she was saying goodbye again, ripping my heart into a million little pieces.

  “Promise me, Angelo.”

  The words she begged me to say come back to me, slamming into my chest like a sledgehammer. I would’ve promised her my celibacy if it meant she’d be happy. That’s all I ever wanted—besides her next to me.

  The clock on the nightstand ticks over to midnight, and I know there’s no way I’m getting back to sleep anytime soon.

  I grab my phone and tiptoe down the hallway, careful not to wake the kids. The screen flashes as I pour myself a glass of whiskey, and I collapse onto the couch.

  Tilly: I can’t sleep. Sorry for the late text, but I was thinking of you.

  I stare at the screen and take the first biting sip of whiskey, wondering if Marissa knows about Tilly and is doing something to push us together.

  I’ve been at war with myself since this morning when Tate found us on the couch. Kissing Tilly was the closest thing to happiness I’ve felt since Marissa last lay in my arms. I spent half the day wondering if I should tell Tilly we needed to slow down, and I still hadn’t made a decision when I fell asleep.

  I lean back into the couch, placing the whiskey on the table next to me and open Tilly’s text message.

  “Is this what you want?” I look around the room like Marissa’s going to appear before I type out my reply.

  Me: I can’t sleep either, and it was nice to wake up to your text.

  I take another sip, waiting for Tilly’s reply, and try to shake off the sadness that’s settled in my soul from the dream of Marissa.

  Tilly: I barely sleep anymore.

  Me: Me either.

  Tilly: The only night I’ve slept well was last night.

  Her words hit me square in the chest. When we fell asleep on the couch, I couldn’t believe I didn’t wake up before Tate. I hadn’t slept in later than her in thre
e years. I spent every night tossing and turning, reaching for Marissa, only to find nothing but emptiness.

  Me: Me too, actually.

  Tilly: Are we moving too fast?

  I laugh and shake my head, realizing everything I’ve been feeling is normal. I’m not alone in my unease, or in finding the ability to move forward almost paralyzing.

  Me: I don’t know, Tilly. All I know is that it feels right.

  Admitting my feelings isn’t easy, but Tilly deserves truthfulness.

  Tilly: Are the kids okay?

  Me: Better than okay. Tate asked when you’re coming for breakfast again.

  I had a long talk with Tate when I put her to bed. She had a million questions about Tilly. The little thing is enamored of the cupcake-slinging Southern belle. I tried to be open and honest, but I didn’t want to get her hopes up. I explained that Tilly and I are just friends, but I could tell by the way Tate was looking at me, she didn’t believe a word of it.

  Tilly: I hope we didn’t confuse them.

  Me: They’re bored with me. They miss having a woman in the house.

  I do everything I can and am both the mother and father, but there are some things I fail at no matter how hard I try.

  Tilly: They just like my cupcakes.

  Me: I like your cupcakes too.

  I add a winky face to the message before I hit send.

  Me: I have the day off tomorrow. Want to grab dinner?

  Tilly: I’m running behind on the shop. Can I let you know later in the day?

  There’s a twinge in my chest, and for a second, I regret being so forward. But I know anything worth having is worth fighting for. Marissa was never one to let life pass by without seizing every moment. I need to at least try to carry out the wishes of my dying wife. I need to move forward instead of waiting for the few moments she comes to me in my dreams.

  Me: What time are you going to be there?

  Tilly: Probably nine. Why?

  Me: I’ll come help. That way you can’t say no.

  Tilly: I won’t turn down your muscle.

  Tilly: That sounded way dirtier than I intended.

  I laugh so loud, I cover my mouth because if the kids wake up, I’ll want to shoot myself.

  Me: I am totally not offended.

  Tilly: Phew. I was going to claim to be sleep-texting tomorrow if you were.

  Me: I better let you get back to sleep.

  Tilly: Get some rest too. You’ll be no good to anyone if you’re exhausted tomorrow.

  Me: I’ll see you at nine.

  Tilly: Goodnight, Angelo.

  Me: Night, Tilly.

  I turn off the screen to my phone and sip the whiskey until sleep finally takes me again.

  Tilly hands me a cup of badly needed coffee. “Did you get any sleep last night?” she asks as she sits down across from me.

  “A little,” I tell her, completely honest about my usual sleeping pattern.

  “Dreams?” she asks.

  “You have them?”

  “About Mitchell?”

  “Yeah,” I say, surprised she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  She nods and wraps her hands around the warm mug. “I used to have them often, but lately, they’re few and far between.”

  “I had one of Marissa last night.”

  “Ah,” she murmurs. “That’s why you couldn’t sleep.”

  “I never really do. Well, not for long at least, but last night, she came to me.”

  “What did she say?” Tilly gazes at me from across the table. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  I shake my head. “Usually, we talk about the kids or it’s a memory from our past, but last night was different.”

  “Different how?”

  “It was as if she was saying goodbye.” I glance down, staring at the wedding ring I haven’t been able to take off my finger. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll never see her again. I always had my dreams.”

  Tilly reaches across the table and touches my arm. “I dreamed of Mitchell last night too. It’s been months since I’ve spoken to him.”

  “Are we normal?”

  She nods. “Completely.”

  “Why did we both dream about them last night?”

  Tilly shrugs with a pained smile. “Maybe because we both felt guilty about what happened.”

  “I didn’t feel guilty kissing you, Tilly. Nothing has felt that right in so long.”

  “We feel guilty in our joy, Angelo.”

  I turn my hand over, capturing her fingers in mine. “You did make me happy,” I admit, caressing her skin with my thumb. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

  “Me too.” She glances down to our interlocked hands. “It’s easy to be with you. You don’t judge me when I talk about Mitchell, and that’s refreshing.”

  “I’ve experienced what you did, Tilly. I’ve lived through the sadness no one else can understand.”

  “I never dated because I didn’t want someone to feel they were competing with Mitchell,” she tells me, finally bringing her eyes back to mine.

  “Many would find the memory too hard to compete with, but it’s not a competition. If it were, it would be unwinnable.”

  Tilly reaches into her pocket and places an envelope on the table. “Roger gave this to me yesterday,” she says, pushing it next to our hands.

  I stare down at the ivory paper, noticing the ink smeared from tears. “Do you want me to read it?”

  “I want to share it with you. Although the words are meant for me, I think they’ll do you just as much good as they do me.”

  I touch the paper, running my fingers over her name. “Are you sure?”

  She nods. “I’m going to prep a few things before we get started. Finish your coffee and read it.”

  “You don’t want to stay with me?”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t. You’ll understand why when you read it.”

  I give her a small smile before releasing her hand as she stands. “I won’t be long.”

  She glances at me over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving me alone. I stare at the envelope as I drink my coffee, wondering if his words were meant to be shared. It feels almost sacrilegious for me to read his private thoughts and last words meant only for his wife.

  I slowly unfold the letter and start to read.

  My dearest Tilly,

  There’s not a moment in the eternal blackness that I’m not thinking of you. I never meant to leave you so soon, I planned to spend my life loving you and sheltering you from pain.

  Roger was instructed to give this letter to you after you finally took a step forward, going on your first date. While a part of me hopes you waited at least a few years, I pray you didn’t wait too long.

  There’s nothing more important to me than your happiness. You are a creature that was never meant to be alone. You’re strong, Tilly. A constant source of strength for me since the day I laid eyes on you. I need you to find that strength to move on, to go forward, and find your piece of happiness again.

  I can never be fully at rest knowing you’re alone. I’ve never loved someone as much as I loved you and never will again. But you’re alive, Til. Don’t forget that. Don’t let your soul die along with my body. Let your heart experience joy and love again. Let yourself be free.

  Move on knowing I’m with you, watching over you, and doing everything in my power for you to find that happiness. Don’t think of a new relationship as throwing away a piece of us or cheating on the memory of our love.

  I hope the man who has the good fortune to make you feel again is worthy and kind. Move forward without guilt or remorse. Live and love for me…for us.

  There’s no greater joy than love. Follow your dreams and your heart. Love fiercely. Don’t be afraid when faced with the prospect of happiness again.

  To honor my memory, to honor our vows, love again and live for me. Live for what we could’ve had and carry a piece of me with you, but don’t let
it take away the lifetime of happiness you deserve.

  Find someone who will treat you as I did. Who will love you harder and deeper than me. Go forward without guilt, knowing I’m smiling down on you, finally able to have peace wherever I am.

  I will always be yours, but you are no longer just mine to have. I love you more than you’ll ever understand.

  Move forward, baby.

  Love again and never look back.

  Eternally Yours,

  Mitchell

  15

  Tilly

  Strong arms wrap around me from behind as I stand at the prep table in the kitchen. He doesn’t speak as he holds me and burrows his face in my neck. I close my eyes, missing the comfort of being in someone’s arms without having to say a word.

  He links his fingers near my stomach as his warm breath skids across my neck. “I’m sorry, Tilly,” he whispers as he tightens his hold, pressing his front flush against my back. “I can’t take your hurt away. I can’t bring him back. The only thing I can do is be here for you, knowing everything you’re feeling.”

  Emotion bubbles up inside me as tears start to form in my eyes. “Do you feel lucky to have been able to say goodbye?”

  He inhales and presses his face harder against my skin. “Sometimes,” he admits. “Sometimes, I’m haunted by the memories of her trying to cling to life.”

  “I never got to say goodbye.” I exhale as the tears fall down my face, wishing I could’ve touched Mitchell’s warm skin one more time before he took his final breath. I cover Angelo’s hands with mine and rest my head back against his chest. “The day he left, our goodbye was short and quick. I never thought he wouldn’t come back.”

  “The letter was his goodbye, Tilly. He knows how much you love him. A man knows these things deep in his bones. We don’t need to hear them in our final moments to know what we’re leaving behind.”

  I close my eyes, sliding my hands up his arms to grip his biceps as I turn around. “There’s so much left unsaid, Angelo. I never got to say them to his face. I lay across his flag-covered coffin, telling him everything I wanted him to know before they laid him to rest.”