A Chance for Us (Willow Creek Valley Book 4)

by Corinne Michaels

  Devney takes a sip of her wine and watches me. “You don’t believe that. If he only cared about maintaining the lie, he wouldn’t have been there with you for a week right before the resort fully opened. He sure as shit wouldn’t have called me to ask if I would come see you so you wouldn’t be alone when you got home.”

  She’s right. “Okay, so, maybe it’s that I worry we won’t work for other reasons.”

  “Such as?”

  “Is this not incredibly strange talking about Oliver?”

  Devney raises one brow. “Not any stranger than watching you marry him.”

  “Point taken.”

  “We don’t have to talk about any of this, Maren. I came here to be a shoulder to cry on or the friend who holds your hair back if you get obliterated drunk. Either one works.”

  I rest my head on the back of the couch and shrug. “I don’t want to talk about Georgia.”

  “I understand.”

  “I should. I know I should.”

  “Says who?” Devney asks. “There are no rules for grieving, Mare. You can talk or not or cry or not, there’s no wrong way or timeframe on it either. I don’t care what people say, some days you’re going to be in the shit and other days won’t hurt.”

  “Do you still cry?”

  The last thing I want is to make her sad, but I don’t know what to expect. I was so young when my mother died that it’s hard to remember how I felt or how I endured it.

  “I do. I miss my brother. He was my best friend, and . . .” She looks into her wine as she slowly swirls it around the glass. “I hate saying this, but there are times I feel so much guilt that it can choke me. My brother was supposed to raise Austin. That was the agreement. Yes, he is my son, but that wasn’t supposed to be my role, you know? Then the accident happened, and I was a mom to this kid who thought I was his aunt. I shouldn’t have him. I shouldn’t have the life I have.”

  I reach over, taking her hand. “I think we all have the lives we have by design.”

  “Maybe, but then how the hell do you explain your love life?”

  “I can’t. I’m married to your ex—actually legally married—for now, but we’re dating, which is strange.”

  Devney smiles. “It’s also amazing. Wait, what do you mean for now?”

  I place the glass down on the coffee table. “I’m filing for divorce.”

  “What? Why? What?” She sits up straight.

  “I spoke with a divorce attorney the day before I left, and she is drawing the paperwork up. She’s not sure if I can do an annulment since I kind of tricked him into it, but she thinks he would have to file it. Either way, I’m going to let him out of it.”

  “What does he think about this?”

  “I haven’t told him.”

  Devney’s jaw opens and closes. “I’m going to assume you were of sound mind when you came up with this plan?”

  “Obviously.”

  “I’m not so sure. Why would you divorce him without talking to him first?”

  I release a heavy sigh. “Because I love him.”

  “Makes total sense. I would want to end the marriage to the man I love too.”

  I shift my weight forward, needing to explain. “No, it does make sense. Oliver has always been the guy who was second choice.”

  “Mare . . .”

  “I know you didn’t think of him that way, but it’s how he feels. You left him to marry Sean, and no one is saying that was the wrong choice, but it is how it went down. Then there was the girl he was with before you guys met.”

  Devney sits back. “I forgot about her.”

  “He was engaged to her, I think.”

  “But she met someone else . . .”

  I nod. “Exactly. He told me how he didn’t want a relationship. He had no intention of falling in love again.”

  “But he did, Maren. He fell in love with you. The fact that he was in Georgia for you proves that.”

  “It does, which is why I have to do this.”

  I have to give him up so I can prove to him that he’s my first choice. He needs to see that we are together because we love each other, not because of some mistakenly filed paperwork.

  I want him to know that I love him. I want him. And we can take whatever time we need to get to know each other and be together.

  Devney raises her glass to me. “Here’s to hoping it goes the way you want it to.”

  I grab mine and tap it against hers. “I have a plan.”

  She laughs before taking a sip. “And we see how well that went last time.”

  This will be different. It’s being done the right way.

  “When will I see you again?” I ask Oliver.

  “Soon, I hope.”

  “How is the issue at the resort?”

  “Issue?” Oliver sounds confused. “Oh, the issue I had to leave for? Yeah, it’s being handled.”

  I wipe a spot on the floor a little harder before plopping to my knees. Hearing his voice makes me eager to see him. I don’t want to waste time. It’s precious and goes far too quickly. What we have is worth making the effort for, so we’re both going to have to bend. I’m more than willing to go first.

  “Good that you could help. I was thinking that I could come there this weekend?”

  Oliver doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I’d like that, but I’m going to be working the front desk. I have to make up for the time my siblings filled in for me.”

  “I can help,” I offer. “I may not know how to run a resort, but I’m sure I can answer the phones or whatever you need.”

  “I’m good. We’ll get it figured out. Just stay there.”

  “I don’t mind hanging out in your cabin while you work,” I tell him.

  “If you’re here, I’ll want to be with you the whole time. We’ll see each other soon. Just not this weekend.”

  We may already be hundreds of miles apart, but it’s as if I can feel the distance growing. Something is different. He doesn’t sound right, and my instincts are telling me that I should proceed with caution.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  I sit back on my heels. “I just feel like something is wrong and you’re not telling me.”

  “That’s not the case, sweetheart. I want to see you, but this weekend is my first one back after being gone for weeks. I need to get caught up and let everyone else take a breather too. Plus, I have a possible wedding booking that I need to meet on Saturday. How about I come to you the following week?”

  All of that seems completely reasonable. I’m being silly, and he doesn’t deserve me being a nutjob. Well, more of a nutjob than I already am.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’d love to come out there and spend the weekend doing nothing but naked snuggling.”

  I laugh a little. “Naked, huh?”

  “Definitely.”

  “All right. That is a plan I can get behind.”

  Oliver and I talk a bit more, catching up on the changes his siblings have made and updates at my job. We saw each other six days ago, and I still feel as though the ground is shaking. When he is near, it’s steady. I miss steady.

  I miss him.

  I’ve always heard that long-distance relationships were hard, but I never truly knew just how hard. It’s like a part of you, the one you like and need, is missing. I can’t do anything but wait for it to be returned.

  “Anything from Linda?” he asks.

  “Just a text yesterday saying she needed time to process before she’d be able to speak to me again and that her lawyers would be in touch regarding my father’s will.”

  “She’s something else . . .”

  He isn’t wrong there. “I’ve been reaching out each day, wanting to see how she is.”

  “I will never understand why,” Oliver muses.

  “My father would’ve wanted it. Even though she didn’t hold to the same beliefs, I have to do what feels right. I want him to be proud of me, even
now.”

  At least that’s the line of crap I’m feeding myself. I don’t know why I’m being nice to her. She and Aunt Marie got into a huge argument after I left, and I doubt they’ll ever speak again. It’s as though Linda can be as ugly as she wants to the people who loved him now that he’s gone.

  “He is. He has to be.”

  I smile. “Cancer stole so much from him, but it never took his kindness. I watched his life fade away bit by bit and rob him of a future he should’ve had. It was impossible to understand or accept, but my father did it with humility. He was always good to people around him, even when they didn’t deserve it. I wanted to rage at everyone because it wasn’t fair. It’s never fair, and I don’t ever want to hear that word again, you know?”

  “I understand.”

  I sit on the kitchen stool. “I pray that no one in my life has to deal with it ever again. I know that’s unreasonable, but I just can’t handle it. I can’t watch it again, but I know at some point, I will.”

  Oliver goes silent.

  “Ollie?”

  He clears his throat. “Sorry, phone cut out when I moved across the room.”

  I had forgot how shitty service is on Melia Lake. “No worries. So, next weekend?”

  “Next weekend.”

  I am so looking forward to it.

  Twenty-Eight

  OLIVER

  It’s pizza night at Grayson’s, and while I really didn’t want to come, I couldn’t come up with a good reason to skip. I haven’t seen Amelia in far too long, and if there’s anything in the world that can cheer me up, it’s my nieces and nephew.

  So, tonight, I’m putting on my best smile and faking it.

  “Uncle Oliver, do you believe in ghosts?”

  “Not really,” I say to Melia as she brushes her doll’s hair.

  “I do. I think they like to hunt people.”

  “That’s . . . disturbing.”

  Amelia puts the brush down. “On this one show I watched, the ghost tried to take over a little girl’s uncle’s body.”

  “I don’t think they’d want mine.”

  Hell, right now, I don’t want mine.

  “Ghosts aren’t picky.”

  There are multiple directions to take this conversation, and being that I am the asshole of the family, I stay the course.

  “I think ghosts only like little kids. They want girls especially.”

  Her head lifts. “Why?”

  “Because they have long hair, and all ghosts really wish they had long hair so it flies in the wind as they float.”

  I catalogue this as something Grayson will make me pay for later.

  Amelia jumps a little and pats her hair. “Do you think they like little sisters?”

  This is why Amelia is one of my favorite people in the universe. She’ll sacrifice a sibling if it means she survives. If we have a zombie apocalypse, I’m totally keeping her on my team.

  “I know my ghost would like Aunt Stella’s hair.”

  “She has really long hair.”

  “She does.”

  “I wonder if we could tell the ghost to take her instead.”

  I chuckle. “I like that plan.”

  Melia leaps forward, catching me off guard. “I love you the most, Uncle Oliver. Don’t ever leave me.”

  “Leave you? Where would I go?”

  She sits back down on the floor. “With your wife. Daddy said you love her and that he thinks you’re next to leave.”

  Did he now? “I’m not planning to go anywhere.”

  “Okay,” she whispers. “You’re my favorite.”

  While I’d like to revel in this little declaration, my niece is a master at this game. She says the same thing to each of her uncles whenever they say something to make her happy. I may be the favorite right now, but if Josh gets her a doll or Alex sends her presents, then I’m back down in the pecking order.

  “For today,” I say with a smirk.

  “Just don’t die.”

  My head jerks back, and my pulse spikes. “What?”

  “That way you won’t be a ghost that takes my hair.”

  My heart rate starts to return to normal. “I . . . okay.” I glance at the kitchen, needing to get some air. “I’m going to get some pizza, did you eat?”

  Amelia sighs dramatically. “Dad made me eat.”

  “Okay, I’ll come back later.”

  She nods once and goes back to her dolls.

  That one statement has me on edge. While I may be able to breathe again, I keep hearing her words: don’t die.

  That’s the goal here, but what if? What if I do? What if I am sicker than I am prepared to be? I can’t . . . I can’t go there.

  My hands grip the counter, and I focus on breathing. I need to rein myself in before I go down a hole I can’t escape.

  “What is up with you?” Stella asks as she grabs a slice of pizza and tosses it onto my plate.

  “What is wrong with you?” I toss back.

  Stella leans against the counter. “Mature.”

  “I always am.”

  “No, you never are, but that’s beside the point. I’m serious, this week you’ve been sulky.”

  “Sulky?”

  “Yeah, moping around, whining about everything. You snapped at Jack and just ran away from Melia.”

  “Jack was tracking mud in the damn foyer after the cleaning crew finished.”

  She shrugs. “He’s a wilderness guide. Apparently, that means nature can follow him. Fuck if I know, but my point is that Josh is the moody one, not you. You’re always laughing, smiling, having a grand ole time with life. This week . . . you’re moody as fuck.”

  “Funny coming from you since you’re . . .” I look at her belly.

  “I have an excuse. You are worse than Josh.”

  “I think Grayson may have him beat,” I add.

  “Right!” Stella puts her hands on her hips and looks out toward him. “He’s been a bear lately. Last time he was like this was after he found out Jessica was pregnant.”

  “Maybe our brother procreated again,” I suggest, hoping my sister will take the bait. Stella is amazing, smart, and easily distracted by shiny things. Like a baby.

  She bites her lower lip. “Man, if that’s the case, we’re in trouble because after Jess’s last pregnancy, he said no more. Plus, Ember is only a year old, but it would be cool because with me and her . . . oh, do you think?”

  “You should ask him.”

  “Why would—” Stella’s eyes narrow. “I see what you’re trying here. You think that if we talk about Grayson then maybe I’ll forget about the fact we were discussing you.”

  So much for shiny objects.

  “I’m fine. Things have been stressful, and I won’t see Maren for another week.”

  “You love her.”

  “I could.”

  “No, I think you do,” my annoying sister says with a grin.

  “Whatever. That’s what’s bugging me.”

  Oh, and I have cancer. Yeah, that too.

  I saw Dr. Pang yesterday, and she informed me that she was able to call in a favor with one of the best oncologists in Charlotte and I’ll see him in two days. In the meantime, I get to sit around with this impending cloud of doom over my head.

  Until I have answers, I’m not going to bother my siblings with this. Josh and Delia have a baby, Grayson and Jessica have their kids, Stella and Jack have their own stuff to deal with, and Alex is in Egypt. So, I’m alone in my head. If I’m being a dick, well, everyone is going to have to deal with it.

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “Almost every day.”

  “I know it’s hard, believe me, I understand what it’s like to stay away from the person you love, but it’ll work out. You and Maren will figure it out.”

  She has no idea what she’s talking about.

  Once I find out more and start treatments, everything will change. Maren has her career in Virginia, and I’m here. I can’t go to her. I can
’t ask her to take care of me. She just buried her father who died of cancer.

  No, Maren isn’t going to have to suffer through that pain again. I won’t do it.

  I’ll find a way to get through this on my own.

  “Thanks, Stell.”

  “Something else is wrong, Oliver. I feel it in my bones.”

  “Your bones? Wow, that’s deep. Do you think it’s contagious?”

  She glares at me. “I think you’re an idiot and lying to me.”

  “Is this your twin osmosis shit again?”

  “Sure. Let’s call it that, but I know you, which means I know when you’re trying to hide something.”

  Of all the days for her to be a pain in the ass, she had to pick this one. I smile as authentically as I can and lean against the counter. I’m close enough to her that it’s as though I’m going to impart some amazing wisdom.

  “You know I love you, right?”

  “I do.”

  “You know I am always saying that you’re too smart?”

  Stella grins. “It’s true.”

  “You got me this time.”

  “I knew I would.”

  I want to laugh at her for thinking I’m going to tell her shit. “Well, I feel like I should tell someone, and since you know me so well, you should be that person.”

  She moves closer, waiting for the secret. “I can keep a secret.”

  “Good.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I can too.”

  I straighten, walk away, and laugh when the paper towels hit me in the back of the head.

  “Thank you for seeing me on a Friday night,” I say to Dr. Dowdle, the oncologist I was referred to.

  “Janet is a good friend of mine, so I was happy to fit you in on her behalf. How are you feeling?”

  I want to flip the fuck out right now because I’m feeling an array of things and none of them are good. I vary each day from hateful to hopeful to ready to terrified. I don’t know which end is up.

  Each time I talk to Maren, I have to pretend as if I’m not scared out of my fucking mind.

  But I am. I have cancer.

  The thing that just robbed her of her father and might possibly rob her of me.