When Forever Changes

by Siobhan Davis

  “What do you mean, if I’m going to be around? Of course, I’ll be here! Where the hell else would I be?”

  He hugs me again. “You’ve no idea how grateful I am to hear you say that, but you need to think about this, Gabby, because it’s not going to be pleasant.”

  I shuck out of his arms, more than a little irritated. “I don’t need to think about it, Dylan. I’ll be here with you for however long you have left, and I can’t believe you were going to take that choice away from me!”

  “I was trying to protect you.”

  “Your mom was right. I would never have forgiven you if you’d gone ahead with it.”

  “Then it’s just as well you barged your way in here and forced my hand.” He grins.

  I slump on the couch as the emotional weight of today does a number on me. I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically, and I have yet to break the baby news to him. “I still can’t believe this. It’s surreal. I keep hoping I’m going to wake up and discover it’s just been a horrible nightmare.”

  He sighs, dropping back on the couch beside me. We both stare up at the ceiling. “I know. I’m not sure it’s even properly sunk in with me yet. Some days, I wish I’d never had that seizure. That I lived in ignorance until my dying breath.”

  “Don’t say that.” I twist my head to the side so I’m looking at him. “That would be a horrible way to go.”

  “Babe, my death is not going to be easy. The doctors have explained how I’ll deteriorate, and it’s going to be fucking awful by the end. I don’t want that for me or you or Mom.”

  I thread my fingers in his. “We don’t need to think about that now. We should just take it one day at a time and fill each day with as many happy memories as we can.”

  “There she is,” he whispers, lifting our conjoined hands to his mouth. “There’s my beautiful, optimistic fighter.” He presses a kiss to my knuckles. “And that’s the best thing you can do for me, Gabby. Help me to forget. I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left being all morbid and shit because I might as well shoot myself now if that’s the case. I just want to enjoy the time I have left. With you.”

  I smile at him through fresh tears. “I can do that. We can do that.”

  “Good. Now we best drink our coffee before it goes cold. Momma Woods is pretty fierce these days.” He sits up straighter, scooting to the edge of the couch, and pouring coffee into two cups.

  I add a dribble of cream and absently nibble on a cookie as I mull over everything. Dylan is reflective too, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable, because there is no way two people as close as Dylan and I are could ever experience awkward silence. It’s like I said to him, this whole situation is surreal. On the one hand, being back in this house, drinking coffee with Dylan, seems so normal it’s almost refreshing, but, on the other hand, it seems weird that the world still carries on as usual after delivering such a bombshell. After the initial shock and tears have subsided, I’m in a bit of a numbed aware state, and it feels odd to be almost pretending like the big C doesn’t exist.

  And I still haven’t worked out how to broach the baby subject. I’m tempted to put it off for another day, but I can’t take even a single day for granted anymore. I came here to tell Dylan he’s going to be a daddy, and I’m not leaving until I do.

  I’m sure I’ll want to rage at the world once my emotions return with a vengeance, but it’s like my body and my mind are working in sync, understanding I can’t cope with the pressure of everything that’s shaken me like a violent thunder storm today.

  I finish my cookie and put my coffee down. “Dylan, I came here today because I had something to tell you too.”

  Worry lines crease his brow. “Okay.” He draws the word out, and I sense the fear building inside him. He puts his cup down and gives me his full attention.

  “This was already going to be a shock, but, after what you’ve told me, it’s going to be an extremely emotional thing to hear, but I can’t sugarcoat this either.”

  “Rip the Band-Aid, Gabby. I can handle it.”

  I wet my dry lips and draw a brave breath. “I’m pregnant, Dylan, and the baby is yours.”

  “He fucking knocked you up!” Ryan roars, storming into the room with his fists clenched before Dylan can even respond.

  I jump up, holding out a hand to stop him. “I told you to wait out in the car, so what the hell are you doing here?!!”

  “Eavesdropping is obviously a James family trait,” Dylan says, standing and pulling me away from Ryan.

  “This is why you were crying and why Slate isn’t returning my calls,” Ryan surmises. Understanding ghosts over his face. “Aw, shit, man. He knows, and he thought it was his, didn’t he?”

  I’ve no idea if Dylan knew Slater and I were officially together, but I’m not going to lie. “We both did,” I confirm, nodding at my brother. “Slate came with me to the ultrasound, and he was devastated when the doctor confirmed I was much further along than I thought.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Dylan says, looking shell-shocked as he sinks to the floor, taking me with him. I’m on his lap with my legs off to one side. I rest my head on top of his as he lowers his hand to my belly, rubbing the small bump. “My baby, our baby, is growing inside you?” An awestruck expression adds much-needed color to his face. I nod. He kisses me, and I let him. It’s a soft, tender kiss that doesn’t last more than five seconds. When he pulls back, tears cloud his eyes. “I imagined this moment so many times but never like this.” His voice is swimming in emotion. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

  “What a fuckup you’ve made of your life, asshole,” Ryan unhelpfully cuts in. “And if you think you’re going to abandon Gabby and leave her to deal with this alone while you shack up with that slut Bianca or fuck your way through every skank on campus, you have another thing coming.”

  Ryan obviously hadn’t been eavesdropping long enough. “Sit down and shut up,” I tell my brother, pointing at a chair. When he opens his mouth to retaliate, I pin him with one of my special death glares. “There is stuff you don’t know, so before you say one more word, sit down so I can explain.”

  He perches on the arm of the couch, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at both of us. “So, explain.”

  “I have terminal brain cancer,” Dylan bluntly says.

  Ryan’s eyes almost bug out of his head. “What?”

  Dylan slings his arm around my waist, holding me firmly against him. “The tumor is pressing on the part of my brain which controls my moods and inhibitions, among other things. It altered my personality in a way I couldn’t control. For months, it felt like there was a different person inside me. I’d react, say and do things, without thinking, hurting others in the process, and then I’d snap out of it and hate myself for it. It was kind of a relief to finally have an explanation although it doesn’t make up for all the hurt I’ve caused.”

  Ryan looks floored, plopping down onto the chair. “Shit, man. I don’t know what to say.”

  “There isn’t much to say. I’m dying, and all I can hope and pray for now is that I live long enough to see my child born.”

  That statement cracks through whatever hazy wall I’ve been sheltering behind, and I burst out crying again. Dylan cradles me to his chest, holding me tight as I sob.

  No one speaks, because there’s nothing anyone can say to take away this pain, or the realization that my child is going to grow up without a father.

  Dylan will die knowing he’s leaving his son or daughter behind without the privilege of ever getting to know and love him.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The next couple days are some of the most harrowing I’ve ever experienced. I called a family meeting at our house, and Heather and Dylan came with me. Together, we told my family the news about Dylan’s cancer and my pregnancy.

  Copious tears were shed.

  Freq
uent hugs were doled out.

  Numerous whiskeys were drunk. I had to stick to water, and it was one of the few times in my life where I desperately wished I could ingest alcohol until I passed out. At least I had a partner in crime—Terri was abstaining too. We’ve discovered we are due to give birth only nine days apart. My child will have a ready-made playmate in his or her new cousin. It brings some small degree of comfort to know my future sister-in-law is pregnant alongside me.

  I’m stumbling through life at the moment like I’m walking through fog. But I’m trying to hold it together for the sake of my baby, and for Dylan. But it’s hard. Because I remember how difficult it was for Slater those last few weeks when his mom was dying, and I know exactly what’s lying in store for us down the line. However, every day I give myself a little pep talk, reminding myself that dwelling on that now will not change the outcome. All it will do is ruin whatever time we have left. So, I’m choosing to push it aside. I will handle that bridge when we come to it. For now, I’m going to do everything in my power to forget about that. To just take each day as it comes. If Dylan can maintain his composure, and not fall apart with everything going on, then I owe it to him to be strong.

  In a weird role reversal, I’m spending every waking minute with Dylan and every night tossing and turning in bed worrying about Slate. No one has seen or heard from him since the night he dropped me off, and I’m hugely concerned. Both Ryan and I have left tons of voicemails and sent hundreds of texts and messages, but he hasn’t reached out to either one of us. Ryan has checked with some of their buddies and stopped by Slater’s place, and he even traveled back to the house in Newark in the hopes of finding him there, but he’s vanished without a trace.

  “When are you returning to UD?” Dylan asks me later that night when we are back at his place, watching a movie. Heather has returned to work, teaching her yoga classes, happy that I’m here to keep an eye on her son. I think she’s been afraid to leave the house in case anything happens to him while she’s gone.

  I pull my knees into my chest, preparing to tell him what I’ve decided. “I’m not going back. I’ve decided to take a leave of absence for the moment. I already emailed my advisor to put things in motion.”

  He pauses the TV, twisting around so he’s facing me. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me.”

  “I’m not.” I shake my head. “I’m just prioritizing the things that are important in my life right now. That means you and the baby. I can go back to college any time.”

  I lift the framed ultrasound pic off the coffee table, smiling at the image of the tiny human growing inside me. Mom surprised me this morning with the cute frame, and I’m so appreciative for my parents’ support. My brothers too. While everyone is upset over Dylan’s prognosis, they are overjoyed at the prospect of another James’ grandbaby.

  My heart is so full of love for this child, and it was instantaneous, like I got smacked in the face with a giant love bubble the moment I found out I was expecting. I haven’t the first clue about being a mom, and while it’s scary, especially with the realization that I’ll be parenting him or her on my own, excitement is the overriding emotion. Even though I only have a small bump, I can’t stop rubbing it. It’s like my hands are superglued to my stomach.

  As if he knows I’m thinking about him, the baby levels a swift kick to my left side, and my hand instantly moves to that spot on my tummy. “Even the baby agrees,” I say, smiling at Dylan. “Quick, come here and feel.” I lift my top, exposing my little baby bump as Dylan kneels on the carpet before me. I take his hand and place it in the spot where the baby just kicked. “Give it a minute, and hopefully, he’ll kick again.”

  Dylan’s palm is clammy and a little cold on my skin, reminding me that he’s ill. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything.”

  Because you’re going to miss out on pretty much everything else.

  I think it, but I don’t articulate it, because I’m abiding by Dylan’s wishes and trying to act as normally as possible. I’m trying not to think about his illness and how he’s not going to be with me to experience every milestone in our baby’s life. It makes me incredibly sad, but I shove those thoughts aside. I don’t have much time left with Dylan, and I’m determined to do everything I can to make it the happiest time it can possibly be, given the circumstances. “This is your experience as much as it’s mine.”

  The baby rewards us with another confident kick, and the look on Dylan’s face is priceless. Tears prick his eyes. “Wow, that was a strong kick. I think our boy’s going to be sporty. He must get that from your side of the family because we both know how completely uncoordinated I am,” he jokes.

  “Hopefully, he, or she, will be the best of both of us.” I’ve taken to calling the baby “he” because I hate calling it “it,” but we’ve both decided we want to learn the sex, so, hopefully, at my next ultrasound we’ll find out whether it’s a boy or a girl.

  “If it’s a girl, I hope she looks like you.” Dylan plants a soft kiss to my stomach. “You hear that, little one? I hope you got your momma’s good looks and her charming personality.”

  “I hope our baby inherits your quirky sense of humor and your intelligence,” I say, running my fingers through his hair. He presses his cheek to my stomach even though the baby has settled down again. “If our kid has even a tenth of your intelligence, he’ll conquer the world.”

  Dylan lifts his head off my stomach, moving closer to me. Winding his hand around the back of my neck, he pulls my face toward his, making his intention crystal clear. As much as it hurts me to do this, I turn my face to the side so his kiss lands on my cheek instead of my mouth.

  Unspoken words settle in the space between us.

  His eyes bore into mine, and his gaze skims over my face. He’s trying to mask his hurt, but I know him well enough to see it. “I know I’ve no right to ask this, but I’m not going to hold anything back either. Where do we stand, Gabby? What is this between us?”

  I rub a tense spot between my brows, before patting the empty space beside me. “Come sit with me.” He climbs off his knees and sits down on the couch, leaving a little gap between us. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you, even though this will hurt, but I don’t want there to be any lies or mistruths or discomfort between us.”

  “Is it Slater?” he asks, and I can see he’s bracing himself for my reply.

  “Yes, and no.” I tuck my hair behind my ears and level him with an earnest look. “Slater and I have been dating these past couple months, and it was serious between us.”

  “Was?”

  “Slater let me go when we discovered the baby was yours. He was trying to do the right thing, because he knows …” I have to stop, because I just can’t say this to Dylan. I can’t put words to what we both already know and hate.

  “What it’s like to grow up without a father.” Dylan goes there. “As I do, and it’s the last thing I would wish for my child,” he whispers, hanging his head. I scurry to his side, resting my head on his shoulder.

  Silence engulfs us.

  “Do you love him?” he asks after a bit.

  “Yes.”

  There’s a pregnant pause. “I don’t need to ask if he loves you because I know he does. I suspect Slater Evans has loved you as long as I have.”

  I don’t confirm or deny it, and silence descends again. Fear rolls off Dylan in waves, and, because I know him inside and out, I can tell what’s on his mind. “Ask me,” I whisper.

  He clears his throat, taking my hand and holding it tight. “Do you still love me?” he whispers.

  “Most definitely yes,” I reply immediately, and his whole body relaxes. “And I’ve forgiven you for what you put me through, but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten all the ways in which you hurt me.” I lift my head so I’m eyeballing him. “I know now you couldn’t help your urges. I understand it wasn’t you. I know y
ou would never intentionally set out to cheat, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did. It doesn’t obliterate the pain and the hurt I still feel inside every time I think of it. And I can’t get past that enough to pick up where we left off in our relationship.” I look down at my lap. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey,” he tips my chin up with one finger. “Don’t be sorry. None of this is your fault.”

  “It’s not yours either.”

  “It doesn’t make any difference. We are where we are, and I respect you, Gabby. So much. You can’t help how you feel. How I’ve made you feel. I wish you didn’t feel like that, but you can’t force it. And don’t feel guilty about Slater. I pushed you into his arms.”

  “And Slater is the other reason I can’t be your girlfriend. I have strong feelings for him too, and it just wouldn’t feel right.”

  Air whooshes out of his mouth, and he looks so unbelievably sad that I briefly reconsider. Am I cruel to deny this to him when he’s dying? Can’t I push the hurt and betrayal aside, long enough to give him his girlfriend back for however long he has left? Am I selfish to put my own feelings before his?

  “I understand. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect your wishes.” Dylan pulls our conjoined hands up to his chest, right over the place where his heart still beats strongly. “And I know what’s going through your mind now. I know how utterly selfless you are, and that you’re beating yourself up inside for not falling back into my arms. But I don’t want you to pretend anything with me. That isn’t what I want at all, so don’t feel guilty or selfish.”

  I hate the sense of relief powering through me at his words, but I appreciate his honesty. “Thank you.” I debate whether I should ask the next question, but I don’t want to spend the next few months on edge wondering if she’s going to show up any time. “Speaking of girlfriends, what about Bianca?”

  “Bianca was never my girlfriend, and she wasn’t living with me despite what she led you to believe. That day you showed up to collect your stuff, I genuinely had no idea she’d replaced your clothes with her own shit. Once I got over my migraine, I made her take all her stuff back to her dorm.”