by Donna Alward
She met his gaze. “The whole ‘we have history’ part. This whole weekend has been strange and it’s like we’ve danced around the whole topic of our past. It feels...unfinished.”
The worry cleared, but she noticed the barriers he’d erected to keep her out were still in place. His gaze was distant, impersonal. “There’s not much to tell. You didn’t feel the same as I did, and you left.”
The words were a knife to her heart. “Yes, I suppose that’s how it looked. How it...must have felt.”
Cold eyes locked with hers. “How it felt? How about it felt like you’d ripped out my heart and stomped on it, then handed it back to me and told me to have a nice life? Some of those dents don’t pop back out, you know. They’re permanent.”
“I’m sorry, Dan. I wasn’t good at breaking up with you.” She bit down on her lip. Loving him had been the easy part. Leaving had been horrible.
“Then why did you?” He backed away, reached down and fiddled with a fork that was on the room-service cart. “I’ve gone over and over it in my mind, Adele. It never felt right, that your feelings just up and changed like that. Not that I’m perfect, but...” He put down the fork and sighed. “It was so out of character for you. It made me wonder if everything that was ‘us’ was really a lie. If it had ever been real, or if I’d just wanted it to be.”
She walked over to the window and looked outside, her chest aching at his last words. She’d loved him, all right. More than she’d thought possible. Which was why she’d wanted to spare him the pain that would follow.
When they’d been together, she’d lived in an apartment close to campus, with a view of downtown Toronto. The view that greeted her this morning was that of snow-covered mountains, blue sky and evergreens so dark, they were nearly black. Worlds apart. Maybe she should just tell him the truth and get it over with. Maybe he would understand.
Maybe she finally would, too. Because what had seemed like an obvious choice eight years ago suddenly seemed less sound.
“It wasn’t a lie,” she said quietly, resting her hand on the window frame. “None of it was a lie, Dan.”
“Then it just doesn’t make sense. And it makes me angry all over again.” His voice came closer, and she knew he was standing behind her. Chills shivered up her spine and along the back of her neck that had nothing to do with her illness.
A lump lodged in her throat in response to the rawness of his voice. “Maybe I should just go.”
He sighed. “It might be easier. Best. Something.”
She escaped to the bathroom and hurriedly changed out of his clothes and back into yesterday’s trousers and sweater, already missing the spicy man-smell. A glance in the mirror had her reaching for a cloth to wipe the smeared eye makeup off her face, and she scraped her hair back with her fingers, wishing for a hair elastic to tame the wild strands. She smoothed it as best she could, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t shift.
Guilt. That was what she felt. Guilt at lying and guilt at leaving. And she wasn’t sure if telling him the truth would make him feel better or worse.
When she left the bathroom, he was standing by the window, in the exact spot she’d vacated. He looked lonely and unapproachable. Had she done that to him? She’d considered her actions a kindness and had told herself that repeatedly over the years when thinking of him. But now she was wondering if it had been a convenient way to avoid accepting the hurt she’d caused.
“You hated me, didn’t you? And you still do.”
He shrugged, but didn’t turn around. “I wanted to, and that’s enough.”
But he hadn’t. And oh, that hurt, too. But what could she say? That she was wrong? That she’d made a horrible mistake? It had been the right thing, breaking it off. Nothing had changed, had it? Except he still didn’t have that big family he wanted, despite her setting him free.
Why?
“Thank you for looking after me last night,” she said softly. “It was more than I deserved.”
He spun around. “You keep saying things like that, and I don’t understand. It’s like you’re telling me one thing and meaning another. Just like the day you walked out. Cut the subtext already and just say what you mean.”
“I... I can’t.” No one here knew about the cancer or the hysterectomy. Not even Harper, who’d become her best friend.
Dan’s lips were a thin, angry line. “Then maybe you should go. We always had honesty between us, Delly. Right up until that last month. I knew something was wrong, but you wouldn’t tell me. I thought maybe it was that we were graduating and you were unsure of the future.” He laughed, a bitter, sharp sound. “I thought if I proposed it would be okay. But instead you dropped me like a hot potato. That’s when I figured you’d met someone else. I can understand you not wanting to admit it back then, but for God’s sake, you could at least have the guts to be honest now.”
His words bit into her like a bird’s beak pecking relentlessly against her skin. She wasn’t one for crying, but tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and the lump in her throat tightened to the point of pain.
He had been going to propose.
She didn’t reply. Instead she stumbled toward the bed, grabbed her coat and handbag from the floor, and then headed for the door.
“Delly...wait.”
The plea in his voice sent the tears spilling over her lashes.
She kept going.
* * *
Adele slept for two hours that afternoon, and then went back to bed again at eight and slept through until Monday morning. When she woke and rubbed her eyes, she realized it was still dark out and checked her phone on the nightstand. Barely seven. She coughed, a dry-sounding hack that hurt her chest, but the worst of the congestion was gone.
Her cat, Mr. Num-Nums, was curled up by her feet, his black tail wrapped around his fluffy black-and-white body. As she moved, he lifted his head and blinked slowly, and then with a little chirpy meow, he hopped up, made his way up the bed to her belly, put his paws just above her belly button and started to knead.
She laughed. “Good morning, bubby,” she crooned, and reached down to rub his ears. “You kept my feet warm all night, didn’t you?” He’d been very vocal when she’d returned home yesterday morning, demanding to know where she’d been all night. She’d had just enough energy to refill his food and water before heading for the sofa and a blanket.
He gave up kneading and perched on her belly, rolled his head a few times, and then flopped down. His antics never ceased to make her laugh, and the warmth of his body had kept her from feeling lonely many nights.
She was probably a crazy cat lady, but she didn’t care. Mr. Num-Nums was her fave.
He started to purr and she put her head back down on the pillow. Today she had to ignore the fact that Dan was still in town, and instead had to get back to work. The Valentine’s Day ceremony at Lake Louise was in just over three weeks; details were starting to come together and needed her attention. While winter wasn’t her busiest season, she had two weddings coming up that were destination weddings and required a different sort of attention. And then when April hit, her busiest season would kick off from then until October, really.
There were things she needed to do now, including putting things together for her accountant for tax season.
But for right now, her bed and cat were warm and comfy, and she was going to enjoy a few more minutes.
Shortly after eight she dragged herself out of bed, hopped into a hot shower, and dressed in soft, comfy leggings and a cozy sweater. She’d bought hand-knit wool socks at a market in the fall, and she pulled them on to her feet before heading to the kitchen to brew coffee—not tea.
In moments the coffee was dripping into her mug, and she popped two slices of bread into her toaster. Daylight started filtering through the windows, and she pulled open the blinds before feeding the cat.
Then she set u
p her laptop at the kitchen table, close to the coffee maker and the heating vent, and started answering the emails she’d ignored for the past forty-eight hours.
It was all very normal, except she couldn’t get the sound of Dan’s voice out of her head. Or the strange feeling in her stomach that was at once excited and nervous and also heavy with regret and dread. He made her feel so many things.
But he was going back to Toronto in a few days. Back to his life. And she’d continue on with hers. If she was left feeling as if things were unfinished—well, that was her own fault. As her mom used to say, If you burn your ass, you have to sit on the blisters. She’d made her choice, and now she had to live with the fallout. Again.
She made another cup of coffee, and then a knock came at the door at precisely noon. Her heart hammered as she wondered if it was Dan. But a quick peek through the little window showed Harper’s face amid a cloud of her breath. Adele opened the door and stood aside. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I gave you time to sleep. And thought you could use this.” She held up a bag from their favorite lunch spot. “Chicken soup.”
“That sounds awesome. Come on in.”
Harper used her toes to push off her boots and left them on the front mat. Stocking-footed, they headed back to the kitchen. “Well, I wanted to be nosy, too. Last I saw of you was when the best man was walking you toward the door. He’s kind of hunkalicious, don’t you think?”
She must have winced because Harper’s eyebrows went up. “What? Is he a jerk? What happened?”
“You’d better sit down. Want a coffee? I’ll get a spoon for the soup. Have you eaten? Is there some for you, too?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” Harper replied, pulling out a chair. “Yes, I’ll have a coffee. And yes, I ate and the soup is just for you. Now. Spill.”
Adele popped another coffee pod into the machine and hit the button. “Well, I didn’t have time to tell you this on Saturday, but...the best man’s name is Daniel Brimicombe and he and I were in a relationship a long time ago.”
“Shut up. Really?”
Harper had swiveled in her chair so that she could face Adele. The look of surprise was priceless. Adele put milk in the coffee and brought it and a spoon to the table. “Really. In university. We broke up just before graduation.”
“But why? Like I said, hunkalicious.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Adele laughed a little, despite the little knot of pain that centered in her solar plexus. “I know. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him at the hotel. What are the chances? Anyway, our relationship didn’t end well, so the weekend was pretty awkward.”
Understatement of the year.
“It didn’t look awkward when he was helping you to the door.”
Adele wasn’t sure how to respond. She reached into the paper bag and took out the carton of soup, avoiding Harper’s penetrating gaze.
“Adele?” She said her name slowly, and Adele sighed as she took the lid off the soup and dipped her spoon into it.
“Actually, he didn’t take me to the door.” She put a spoonful of broth in her mouth and affected what she hoped was a casual air.
“Oh, sister.” Harper leaned back in her chair. “There’s a story here. You might as well let me have it.”
Adele sighed and met Harper’s gaze. “You’re right. And I probably should talk about it rather than overthink everything.”
Harper leaned forward. “Did he kiss you?”
“With the virus I had going on? Are you nuts?” Adele laughed. “I’m sure my fever and sneezing were really attractive. No, I fainted, actually. Dan took me up to his room and tucked me into bed with some medication. Then he went back to the dance.”
Harper took a drink of her coffee, but one eyebrow was quirked in a sassy arch. “Nope. He never came back. Why else do you think I’m here? I saw him take you out and then didn’t see either of you for the rest of the night, and I stayed until nearly midnight.” She sent Adele a knowing look. “I didn’t pop by yesterday in case he was...you know, here.”
Adele frowned and spooned up some soup to cover her conflicted feelings. He’d stayed with her? The thought that he’d watched over her sent a warmth flooding through her body. It also made her uncomfortable, considering the conversation they’d had the morning after.
Yet despite his feelings, he’d stayed. Made sure she was all right. It was a reminder that he was a good guy, deep down. Even when he was mad.
“I didn’t realize,” she said finally. “I fell asleep right away and slept through until the morning.” She swallowed against a lump in her throat. “He slept on the couch.”
“Not exactly the actions of someone who hates you, Adele.”
“It’s complicated.”
Harper finally laughed. “It always is. You wanna talk about it?”
And get into the nitty-gritty details? Not really. She was still feeling quite raw from it all. “Thanks, but it’s all in the past, you know? And he’s only here for a few days. I won’t even see him again.”
She’d no sooner got the words out of her mouth than there was another knock at her door.
A delivery man stood on the step and held a fruit basket in his hands. “Are you Adele Hawthorne?”
“I am.”
“This is for you. Have a good day.”
“I don’t need to sign?”
“Nope.”
He was gone in a flash and she carried the basket inside and to the table.
“Oooh. Fruit.” Harper sat back and watched as Adele reached for the envelope with a small card inside.
Adele,
Thought you could use the vitamin C. I’m sorry about how we left things. If you’re feeling better, maybe we can meet for lunch this week?
Dan
Adele wasn’t sure what to think. It was an olive branch, she supposed. And she probably shouldn’t read much into it. After all, it was bananas and grapes and not a bouquet of flowers or chocolates, the typical romantic go-to.
“Well? Is it from him?”
She nodded. “Actually, yes.”
Harper sat back with a satisfied smile. “See?”
Adele undid the cellophane and took out a fragrant clementine. She started to peel it and forced a shrug. “It’s fruit, Harper. Not exactly romantic.”
“Right. It’s subtle. Slipping in under your radar.”
She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “He’s not an under-the-radar guy. Or subtle, really. He’s more tell it like it is.” She didn’t mention anything about the lunch request. It had been nice talking to Harper, but the details were still a sore spot that she didn’t care to share. I don’t have a uterus wasn’t really something you popped into a conversation.
Harper drank her coffee for a minute and Adele ate some sections of clementine, the fruit juicy and fresh.
“Did you really love him?” Harper asked, and Adele nearly choked.
She coughed for a minute and then took a breath. “Sorry. I guess I’m not quite over my bug yet.”
“Well, did you? Was this a big deal?”
She could lie, but what was the point? “It was,” she admitted. “Throughout most of university. We were together three years.”
“That’s a long time.”
“He was going to propose.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Harper’s eyes widened, and Adele bit down on her lip. “I didn’t know that until yesterday. But I... Our lives were going in different directions. I knew letting go was for the best.”
“And you broke his heart.”
And my own, she thought, but kept the words inside.
“Regrets?” Harper asked, reaching into the basket for a handful of plump green grapes.
Did she have regrets? A week ago she’d have said none. But now, after having seen him, after being f
ace-to-face and remembering everything, she wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know. It’s been hard seeing him. I thought leaving him was the right thing to do, but it still hurts.”
“And now he’s back here.”
Adele nodded. “Just for this week. I’ll be fine. I have work and the cat and it’s all good.”
Harper took the grape stems and her cup to the sink. “Well, I need to get back and finish touching up the photos from the wedding. But you call me if you need anything, okay? I mean it. We can do girls’ night in or go out or just...whatever.”
“Thanks, honey. And for the soup, too. I appreciate it.”
“I know. Otherwise I wouldn’t do it.” Harper chuckled and gave Adele a hug. “Take a nap. You still don’t look a hundred percent.”
“Yes, Mom,” she replied.
Harper was gone in a whirlwind, the way she seemed to do everything. But once the door shut and all was quiet again, the smile slipped off Adele’s face.
What did a fruit basket mean, exactly? And how was she going to answer his invitation?
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE WAITED FOR her in the bakery/café, wondering if they’d still be able to get one of the small tables by the time she arrived. They could always go somewhere else, but he was nervous.
He shouldn’t be. It was Delly, after all. He knew her better than he’d ever known anyone, really. Well, he knew the person she’d been back in Toronto. The new Delly looked the same but acted differently. She was more efficient, more...subdued. Serious. Maybe they’d simply grown up.
He checked his watch again and sighed. Yes, he was early. But that didn’t make the waiting go any easier.
He saw her through the window before she came through the door and his heart gave a solid thump in response. It had been like that each time he’d seen her over the past several days—that traitorous, initial reaction that said he’d never gotten all the way over her. Then his brain would catch up and remind him that she’d broken his heart. But that first glimpse...it reminded him of when it had been the two of them against the world, making plans and laughing in the dark.
