Love, Cass

by St. Klaire, Stephanie

  “How could I forget?” Safe answer. I wasn’t committing to anything in that moment. I wasn’t being set up by impossible fantasies that wouldn’t be brought to life if I just left it all right there. Leave it as I remember. Don’t encourage or feed the conversation I knew was brewing. Just…leave it.

  “I was thinking we should maybe…do that again?”

  Shit. He went there — where I wasn’t willing to go. This was a tough conversation. I couldn’t give him what I wanted if I was healthy, add my diagnosis to the mix, and it was just a fairytale that didn’t have a happy ending — it just had a sooner than later ending.

  “Liam…” I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to say, You know I can’t have any more children. I didn’t want to say, and even if I could, my times up, buddy. Sorry.

  He didn’t make me say it, thankfully. He had other ideas that would be just as painful to discuss, and I wasn’t ready to ruin the magic of the last four days. Why couldn’t I just have this one last thing — this one last grand memory where I didn’t have to live my life as a dying woman and live a dream Liam had given me?

  Why? This was cruel. I was cruel. I was either going to have to crush my husband with the truth now, or crush him later knowing I’d just spent the past four days essentially lying to him while he was planning a future that was never going to be. Cruel.

  “Cass, I know.” He said.

  That had my attention. We were back to that — him knowing. Knowing what? Maybe he was as good of a liar as I was and had been pretending all this time too. Not pretending to be deeply and utterly head over heels in love but pretending there was nothing terrible looming on the other side of happy. Just waiting for us to get home. Waiting to destroy the joy.

  “You know”— I really sucked at this —“what, Liam?”

  “I know what you are going to say, and I’m not going to make you repeat it. It must be hard for you, but hear me out.”

  Here we went again – knows what I’m going to say? Must be hard for me? This roller coaster of what he did and did not know was getting old — really old. More than likely, it was just my own guilt making this seem like such a tumultuous ride of does he or doesn’t he know he’s about to lose me. I knew my husband and there was no way he could know that and still have had the long weekend we did. No way. That was my conscience interfering, trying to make me feel better, or maybe worse, for basically living a lie for the past several days.

  Liam knew something, but not that. And given where this conversation was headed, it wasn’t going to be any easier. I guess that’s what I got for not telling him. Sure, it was selfish, but well intended selfishness — that was a thing, right? I wanted to live in the pre-cancer bubble as long as I could — what were a few more days? Was it really that awful of me to want this one last rendezvous with the man I loved? This was as much for him as it was for me…wasn’t it? When he looked back at our life together, he’d have this, just like I did.

  I’d spent the past few days making the memory of all memories — partly out of guilt, but mostly because I needed it, needed him, like this, one last time. The minute I told him, everything would change, and I didn’t want it to change, not yet, not until the very last minute at the end of our trip.

  “Cass?” Liam interrupted my thoughts, bringing me back to the moment I’d just been mulling over. I must have been getting good at this pretending thing because without a flinch, I jumped back into my role and plastered on an adoring smile. “Where’d you go just now? Did I spook you or something?”

  “Spook me? Oh no, just thinking about…what you said.” I continued to smile — he was buying it.

  “So, you do know where I’m going with this? Have you been thinking about this too?” His tone was almost giddy. “We always do that — it’s like we’re in each other’s heads, always finishing each other’s thoughts!”

  This was brutal.

  “I guess that depends. Tell me what you’re thinking…” I said, not willing to give anything away.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to upset you.” He reached across the table for my hand.

  There was no way he could upset me anymore than I was — it didn’t get much deeper than this. I just nodded, willing my emotions to stay in check.

  “Another baby. A little sister or brother for Reagan. She’s old enough. We’re in a good place — you’re in a good place,” he said, so full of hope, it stung. “Is that…what you were…thinking?”

  He went there. He fucking went there. So much for denial and willing those emotions to stay at bay. It all came to head and poured over. I’d lost all control. Liam slid around the table we were seated at and wrapped an arm around me while he brushed away tears I hadn’t realized were flooding my expression.

  “Oh, Jesus, Cass. I thought…I mean…shit. You weren’t thinking this at all, were you? I just assumed we’d…you know…have more children eventually.”

  Shaking my head, I tried to collect myself. “No. Don’t be sorry. It’s a valid…assumption. I just…I don’t know why I’m crying. I love being here with you, and I love the idea of returning, but…”

  This was where I was supposed to come clean. I was supposed to say something like, “I’d love to, but we need to talk…” Or, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…” I was supposed to be honest and quit stringing him along, but I was overcome with the need to drag this out. I’d like to think I was sparing his heart a brutal blow, but really…I was sparing myself. It was that selfish thing again, or maybe I was a coward? A selfish coward living in denial. I was a disgusting liar bound to hurt the man I cherished more than anything worse than I would have had I just…been…honest.

  Honesty eluded me. “Liam, I thought you understood. This is permanent, nothing we can do about it — I can’t have any more children. The cancer…it took that away from us.”

  And it was about to take so much more — but I left that part out. That hole I’d been digging just kept getting deeper and deeper. I was digging my own grave, literally and figuratively.

  “I know that. Shit.” Liam slid back to his spot on the other end of the half-moon bench that made up the booth we were sitting at. “I’m so sorry. I sound like such an asshole.”

  Great. Now he felt bad when it was me who owned the asshole title. He hadn’t done anything wrong and now had a heavy heart, and it was entirely my fault. I was really making a mess for myself to clean up — if I could clean it up. I’d let my charade and secret drag out too long.

  “Cass, I meant adoption. I guess I should have started with that. I just assumed you knew where my head was. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.” Yeah, oh was all I could say. I should have been apologizing and pleading for forgiveness, but I said oh. “You said come back every month like we did when we were trying to have Reagan, I just assumed—”

  “Yeah. I just thought we could, you know, play the part.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Ugh, I was already playing a part, and it was killing me — probably faster than the cancer.

  “Practice.” I offered him that same smile I’d been giving all night. The one that said there wasn’t a damn thing wrong in the world. The smile that was my greatest lie to date. “I like where your head’s at, O’Reilly.”

  Liam signed the check on the table before reaching for my hand and pulling me to my feet along with him. “Let’s get out of here. We have one more night, and I plan to spend the whole thing practicing. Care to join me?”

  I followed his lead as he swept me away, out of the building, and down the path that led to various cottages sprinkled along the property. He jumped up on a bench, running its length, then twirled me at the end before he hopped down and continued on. Winded from the run, I tugged at his hand, trying to catch my breath between laughs. We stood under a chandelier hovering above a round courtyard-like area where the lone path broke into several leading all over the grounds, each illuminated by a strand of lights that fed from the chandelier’s center.

/>   It was a magical spot in a magical place on a magical weekend with a spectacular man. Liam wrapped his arms around me, and our once fast movement became a subtle sway to music only we could hear. These were the moments I would cherish most — moments just like this one. I hoped it would be one he carried forever too.

  “I love you, Mrs. O’Reilly. More than anything.” And he kissed me, hard, full of meaning and promises I knew he wouldn’t be able to keep, but I didn’t care. This moment was everything I’d lived for and was grateful to have one last time. I would cherish it as I would cherish him for all of eternity. Just this one…last moment. This one…last…kiss.

  “I love you too, Mr. O’Reilly. Forever and always. Bigger than you’ll ever know. Don’t ever forget that.”

  With fire in his eyes, Liam just stared at me, speechless, expressionless. For the first time, I couldn’t read him. Was my plea suspicious? Was he pondering my choice of words? I’d said every one of them to him before, but never together…not with such intensity and desperation to get him to hear just how much I loved him, and I couldn’t tell if he saw right through it and became suspicious or was simply moved by the need he sensed in my words.

  If I needed anything, in that moment, it was for him to know just how madly, deeply, and desperately I loved him — to the point of painful — that was how big and hard I loved this man. It was taking everything I had to keep it together while trying to convey that with just a handful of words.

  Before he could respond and I could dig that hole I’d been nurturing a little deeper…it began to rain. It wasn’t a light mist or subtle drizzle, it came down hard and with a thunderous roar. Timing couldn’t have been better. I needed that rain, needed it to hide the tears I could no longer withhold. Tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of sadness, tears of happiness. I was all of those things right then and more. I was in pain, I was lost, I was full of regret. This man was my everything, and I was misleading him and letting him hold onto what would never be possible.

  I was taking something from him — taking his right to grieve. That was what would happen, right? A person didn’t have to be gone for someone to grieve them — you didn’t just grieve what you’ve lost, but also what you’re losing… That was the step right before anger, right? It had only been a handful of days, but those days could have been spent reconciling emotions and preparing for what was left of our future, preparing for the end.

  So, I laughed, because he laughed, as we danced in the rain, and…I cried. I was at war with myself. As much as I was overwhelmed with guilt, there was pleasure — pleasure in knowing despite what I was robbing him of, I was giving him these days together. Was that so wrong? Did he have a right to decide that, or was it okay I had decided it for us? I had planned to tell him the morning after I found out, but I didn’t know he had planned this trip.

  I was justifying my actions by deflecting and blaming him for my choices. I didn’t tell him because he ruined the plan by surprising me with a romantic weekend — how dare he. I wasn’t a terrible person, but in that moment, I felt like one. A confused and conflicted asshole.

  Pushing all that down, as I had been for days, I played the part. The one I’d mastered the past few days where I’d pretended there was nothing wrong and everything was okay. Where I’d smile and laugh when I wanted to cry and fall apart. I’d push it down. One more day. One more day, and I’d tell him everything. But first, I needed to give him this, and I would be okay with it, I had to be. He deserved this.

  Liam twisted me around one last time with a final twirl. “Let’s get out of this rain, baby. It’s not good for you. Let me warm you up by the fire and show you all the ways I love you.”

  So, we did, we’d paused our dance, there’d be time for that, in front of the fire, I was sure. But just as quickly as the magic started, it came to a screeching halt when we were halfway to down the path to our cottage and ran into another couple trying to get out of the rain.

  This was another one of those twists of fate. You know, the type that seemed to be endless these past days. The ones where you wonder if the universe was just a bully and had its sights on you.

  Of all the people in the world we could have run into at our favorite little escape from our lives in the city, it couldn’t have been a stranger, or even a family member or parents from Reagans play group. No, life wasn’t that kind to me, and the more deceptive I became with my secret, the more life handed me lemons — sans the vodka to make a stiff drink — and it fucked with me.

  This time, it wasn’t my conscience. It was exactly what I deserved like a little visit from mother karma herself. It didn’t pay to keep secrets. They always came out. I was learning that lesson the hard way as I stood in a puddle deeper than my shoes in the middle of a rainstorm at the most unlikely place on earth to come toe to toe with Dr. Rick Mendoza…of all people.

  What was this? How was this happening? The silence between us was deafening as he looked from me to Liam, then back to me, clearly unsure what to say. I was probably the last person he’d expected to see galivanting around in this weather at the winery on a romantic weekend with my husband seeming to have zero shits to give…when he knew I should have had plenty to give.

  “Mendoza,” Liam said, offering his hand. “What brings you out here, man?”

  “Oh. Some friends. They got married…here.” Mendoza made eye contact with me, more so than Liam, like I’d just put him on the spot. He had the same question for us. “Uh, how about you two?”

  Liam wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him when he noticed my shiver. I wasn’t cold; I was frightened. Frightened it was all about to come out in the open, right here, right now, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. The storm seemed so fitting at that moment.

  “We needed some time away,” Liam said, to which Dr. Mendoza raised his brow.

  I prayed like I’d never prayed before. I delivered a request for grace, favor, anything I could get. I hoped like hell that time away wasn’t misinterpreted. That Mendoza didn’t take that as time to get away and prepare for what was coming. I begged the universe and was all but on my knees pleading…I just needed this one night. I needed this night with Liam, and I’d make it all right tomorrow.

  “I see,” Rick said, his gaze back on me. “Everything…okay?”

  I couldn’t describe the look I gave him in reply. I think it was something like big, unblinking eyes and a subtle shake of my head, but maybe not. The message was clear enough, though, because I received a similar look in return — he read what I was trying to communicate. What had me by surprise more than anything was his wife, Lucy. The way she looked at me with sadness and something else. Maybe disappointment. She knew.

  Rick had told her my prognosis, and she didn’t agree with me not telling Liam. I might have been wrong on that last part, maybe she wasn’t judging me and that was just my guilty conscience again, but she definitely knew, and that deepened the sadness I felt for my husband. He wouldn’t be second to know — hell, not even third. He’d be the fourth to know, and that felt awful.

  “Everything’s great,” Liam said, enthusiasm dripping from his words.

  Dr. Mendoza flinched at that enthusiasm. His wife Lucy flinched as well. Now, Liam almost looked like a fool, and it was my doing.

  “Yeah,” Liam went on. “I’ve been working a lot and thought I better take my wife away on a romantic weekend before she leaves me.”

  Leave him. If he only knew how close to true his words were. Liam laughed earnestly, but for the rest of us, it was forced. That knife I’d been carrying in my gut twisted a little tighter.

  Of course, it didn’t stop there. Liam wasn’t done because the universe wasn’t done with me.

  “We were actually talking about the possibility of…” he looked at me with a proud smile, holding his jacket over us as if it were enough to keep us dry in the downpour, “expanding our family.”

  Dr. Mendoza’s brow shot up in surprise, his wife’s gaze quickly went to the gr
ound while she cleared her throat like it was the root of her reaction, and my heart sank. I was getting what I deserved.

  “Oh, really?” Dr. Mendoza asked. “That’s great.”

  Really, what was the man supposed to say?

  Lucy lifted her head, smile intact, and said, “That sounds lovely. We wish you all the best.”

  I’d dragged them into my lie and felt even worse than I had before — something I hadn’t thought was possible. I hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. Hell, nobody chooses this.

  “Thank you,” Liam replied. “Hey, go get inside out of this rain. It was great seeing you! Let’s get together soon. It’s been too long.”

  That knife in my gut twisted again — if he only knew just how often we were going to get together, with Dr. Mendoza anyway.

  “You got it.” Mendoza looked my way and gave a knowing nod. “You two take care, okay?”

  They were off before either of us could say a word. It didn’t faze Liam, not one bit. He was still wearing that smile the idea of expanding our family provoked.

  “This isn’t working,” he said, and I just stared. Of course none of it was working, but in my world, those words meant something entirely different than that in his at the moment.

  “Hold this, both hands,” he said, referring to the jacket, and I obliged. I held that sopping mess up high above our heads as best I could, given he had at least six inches on me.

  In one sudden swoop, he cradled me in his arms and began to run. I held the jacket high, but it was pointless. We were soaked to the core and all we could do was laugh. So, we did. Until it hurt. When we made it to the cottage, I reached down and entered in the code to let us in, and Liam finally put me down when we were in front of the fire. I couldn’t believe we’d left it on while we were out, but I was glad we had.