Unbreak My Heart

by Lauren Blakely

  That was before the cancer fully returned with a vengeance in March. Talk about the nick of time. “You guys were like Indiana Jones grabbing his hat before the stone wall came down.”

  “Yes, I suppose we were,” she says, and the conversation ceases as the waiter returns with the drinks.

  “How did he take the news?” I ask once the waiter’s gone.

  “He took it well. He was sad but happy, if that makes sense. I told him in person.”

  I tilt my head, grasping for when she might have seen him. “I thought that was his last trip.”

  “I flew to Los Angeles. Do you remember?”

  “It was when I was in Miami. I wasn’t able to meet you,” I say, a little wistfully.

  She nods. “Yes. I saw him and told him then.”

  I scrub a hand over my jaw. I never thought twice about her visit. It never occurred to me how important it was. It was simply a trip—her last trip.

  But it was so much more.

  “I came to town to tell him,” she adds, filling in more gaps. “I couldn’t give him that kind of news on the phone or over Skype. I needed him to know in person, so I visited him, and we went out and celebrated with a game of bowling.”

  Like a bright flash of neon at night, the last puzzle piece slides perfectly into place.

  Everything that mattered to Ian lay on the table in a neat pile—my parents’ last words, the reconciliation with Laini, the news of his child.

  But wait.

  No. That’s not possible.

  “Ian didn’t come back. He didn’t leave the magnet in the pile,” I say slowly, taking my time with each word.

  She swallows and pushes a strand of hair from her face then takes a sip of the drink. “I left it there,” she says quietly, when she sets down the glass. “I wanted it to be with the other memories. It was my memento of the last time I saw him.”

  Next to me, Holland’s shoulders shake, and she wipes a finger under her eye.

  A lump rises in my throat, and I swallow roughly. “I can see him celebrating at a bowling alley. I love that you were able to.”

  “We talked about when to tell you. We didn’t want to say anything right away, in case it didn’t work out. I told him I would wait as long as I could before I told you. He wanted that too.”

  “Why?”

  She takes a breath. “He didn’t want you to face any more loss if you didn’t have to.”

  That was my brother. Always looking out for me. “I get it. You don’t have to apologize for keeping it to yourself. I completely understand,” I tell her, and the thing is—I do.

  There was a time when I wouldn’t have. But that time has passed. I’m not the guy who clipped a car for no reason. I’m someone who tries to understand.

  “I was twelve weeks pregnant at his memorial service. He didn’t want me to travel. He didn’t want anything to happen to the baby. So I stayed home. I stayed here. It broke my heart not to go,” she says, her voice stripped bare. She stops, swipes at her cheek, and Holland grabs a napkin from the table and hands it to her.

  Kana thanks her and dabs at her eyes.

  “But he gave me something when I was in California. He asked me to bring it back here and hold on to it so I could give it to you once I told you about the baby. I didn’t know then, of course, that you’d be in Tokyo, so I planned to send it to you. Now I can give it to you myself. I don’t know what it says.”

  My spine straightens. “For me?” I ask, the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

  Kana dips her hand into her purse and takes out an envelope. She gives it to me. “It’s sealed.”

  I regard it like a precious artifact with terrifying and beautiful powers.

  I try to steady my breath. Try to keep my shit together. Holland rubs my back, a soothing gesture.

  I stare at the envelope for several seconds, maybe a minute. I don’t know how I won’t fall to pieces when I read this letter that comes from beyond the grave.

  But I don’t know if it matters whether I fall apart or not.

  I’m here with the women in my life—the one I love, and the one who is the mother of my brother’s child.

  I slide my finger under the flap.

  36

  Hey Andrew,

  If you’re reading this letter . . .

  Wait, hold on . . .

  Cue: laugh track . . .

  I mean, c’mon. How awesome is it to say that? It’s like something you’d see in a movie, all foreboding and whatnot. How many times can you truly say, “if you’re reading this letter?” Maybe . . . once.

  But seriously, if you’re reading this letter, it means one thing: I knocked up a woman.

  Who knew the boys could still swim that far? But hey, I suppose I’ve got strong swimmers.

  It also means I need you.

  This is the truly serious part. This letter is for you. No one else has read it. No one else has seen it. You need to know this because you’re the only one who can help me now.

  I’m not here, but you are, and that’s why this falls on your shoulders.

  I need you to take care of my kid.

  No, I don’t mean raise the kid. Please. Go live your life.

  What I mean is this: please make sure Kana is taken care of. Please make sure our baby is too. In late April, I opened a new mutual fund. You might have found it when going through my financials and wondered what it was about. You might not have gotten there yet. In any case, you will, because it’s part of what I left behind.

  You’ll find all the paperwork for it if you go to my accountant’s and get the info. It’s the new one, nicknamed “tadpole.” Clever, huh?

  You’re in charge of my stuff, and I need you to look out for my family. My family includes you, but it also includes two new people.

  I’m asking you this from beyond the grave because I know you’ll do it. Because this matters to me. Because you’re my brother, and I love you so damn much. You used to say I looked out for you, and maybe that’s true.

  But Andrew, I need you now. I need you to look out for me.

  P.S. Try not to miss me too much!

  P.P.S. If you ever make it to Tokyo, there are some pictures I took of Holland one of the days the three of us hung out. I put them behind a photo frame. I wanted you to have them. You know, on account of you being irrevocably in love with her. I took them to remind you that you really ought to find a way to get back together with her.

  Look at me, telling you what to do from the next life.

  Well, I have to sign off now. But in case I haven’t said it enough, I love you, in this world and the next one.

  Ian

  37

  Andrew

  We exit the subway at Shibuya Station, where we began our trip here more than a month ago. That out-of-time feeling returns, like I’m a little bit lost again.

  But that’s only because his letter—his news—was so unexpected.

  “I can’t quite grasp it,” I tell Holland as we head down the escalator. “There’s a part of him that’s still here on earth.”

  She squeezes my fingers. “It’s intense to think about. It’s humbling.”

  I nod. “That’s it. That’s exactly it. And it’s wild too.” I look at her and smile. “Like he had the last word.”

  She laughs. “This is one helluva last word.”

  Talking about the news—the baby, holy smokes, the baby—with Holland helps me process the enormity of what’s to come. Actually, talking with her has helped me with so many things, since way back when.

  “Hey,” I say, stopping outside the Hachiko mosaic and pulling her close.

  She tilts her head in question. “Hey, what?”

  I run my fingers through her hair. “I like talking with you. That’s all.”

  She dusts a quick kiss on my lips. “I like talking with you too.”

  We turn, and I tap the mosaic dog’s head, then she does the same.

  When we reach the crossing, I gently grab her wrist. “I w
ant to take a picture.”

  “Be my guest.”

  “Of both of us.”

  “I’ve been wanting that photo for a long time.”

  We stand in front of the intersection, and I lift the phone and snap a selfie. I send it to her.

  Andrew: We don’t have to miss each other anymore. We can have each other.

  After she reads it, she takes my hand and we walk home.

  * * *

  I pick up the Lucite frame for the first time since the night I arrived. I turn it around and slide the photos out from the back.

  “I can’t believe I ever thought anything else of these, even for a second,” I say as Holland looks at the pictures with me.

  “You didn’t, Andrew.” Her voice is soft, reassuring.

  “What do you mean?”

  She taps my heart. “You knew. You knew in here. You just weren’t ready to fully understand everything he’d done. But what else could they be but for you?”

  “You think I always knew?”

  She nods. “Sometimes we know the truth, but we can’t face it for whatever reason.”

  I wrap an arm around her and tug her close. Sandy lies at our feet, watching.

  “Do you remember this day?” I ask, showing her the picture of her hair blowing in the breeze, her gaze trained on the lens.

  She studies the shot of herself near a cherry blossom tree, and soon a smile forms. “I think that’s the day we went to the Imperial Gardens. The cherry blossoms were beautiful.”

  I turn to the next shot, the one of her outside the pachinko parlor.

  “That was later the same day. It was cold at night, so I changed my outfit. And then we sang karaoke.”

  I place the photos on the table and bring her close, wrapping both arms tightly around her. “We should do karaoke again.”

  “So you can serenade me with Rick Astley?”

  “Rick Astley, Ed Sheeran. Whatever it takes, Holland. I will do whatever it takes to keep you.”

  “You have me, Andrew.”

  “But I want to keep earning you, every day.”

  She smiles and leans her head back, looking up at me. “Just keep being you.”

  “I will.” I drop a kiss to her forehead, thinking again how lucky I am for this second chance with her. “It’s funny how Ian was trying to play matchmaker from the grave.”

  She sighs softly, snuggling closer. “You beat him to it though. You had me back before he sent you his directive.”

  “I didn’t need to be told that twice. I needed you back. I wanted you back.”

  I tug her up from the couch and take her to bed, where I show her all the ways I plan to keep her happy.

  Happy with me.

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  Holland and Kana take me out to dinner to celebrate.

  My firm landed its first international client.

  One of Jeremy’s investment start-ups is located here and needed an American lawyer. My buddy really is a rock star kind of friend.

  I still haven’t taken the Bar yet—that hell awaits me in a few more months, but I’m working closely with the other attorneys in Los Angeles, helping this start-up with its business needs here.

  “Just a few more months and I can file some lawsuits and stir things up,” I say as I raise a glass of sake.

  Holland tips her cup to mine. “Or slap up some personal injury billboards at Shibuya Crossing.”

  But we both know I’ll do neither. I like my simple life.

  Kana lifts her water glass to toast. “To the soon-to-be newest lawyer in the Peterson family,” she says, then winces, setting a hand on her enormous belly. Hats off to her—I’ve no clue how she can be comfortable doing anything, even eating a meal.

  “Is it a contraction?” Holland asks, on alert.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Kana breathes out hard then winces once more, until she smiles again. “Probably just Braxton Hicks. Let’s keep eating. It’ll take my mind off it.”

  “Let’s pig out, then,” Holland says, but she watches her like a hawk the rest of the meal and insists on sharing a cab home with her.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” Kana says as we drop her off.

  “Call me if they increase in frequency. I’ll go with you to the hospital,” Holland says.

  “My mom can help too,” Kana says, since her family lives on the outskirts of Tokyo. She has parents and a sister, and they’re all excited to welcome the newest family member.

  So am I. I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.

  The next day when my class ends, Holland is waiting for me outside the door, ready to burst.

  She grabs my hand. “Kana went into labor in the middle of the night. She had the baby! Let’s go!”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, I’m walking into the hospital room to meet my brother’s daughter.

  Emotion wells up inside me as I cross the threshold. This is a moment I’ll want to remember for all time. This is the stuff that matters, the people we write letters for. This little person will change the course of lives.

  Kana looks exhausted but ecstatic, holding her baby in the hospital bed. The tiny person in her arms is gorgeous, with a shock of black hair and a scrunched-up face. “Her name is Anna.”

  “That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” I say reverently.

  “Her full name is Anna Miyoshi Peterson,” she adds, and my throat hitches. Over the first name, my mother’s, and the last name too.

  I look away briefly. “That’s perfect.”

  “Do you want to hold her?”

  I nod. “I do.”

  I take Anna and hold her, and I can’t stop looking at this creation, who’s part her mom and part her dad.

  I still don’t know if I believe in God or religion, but at that moment, I decide I do believe in something greater, something truer, something bigger than my brother.

  I believe in this world.

  I believe in hope.

  I believe that love is stronger than death.

  I don’t know that Ian is watching over his infant daughter, but I know this—I am.

  And I will.

  I know something else, something that will be true her whole entire life. I lean in close to my little niece, making sure she hears me, making certain she knows. “Your daddy loves you so much.”

  I kiss her forehead, feeling his presence, and at last understanding him completely.

  * * *

  We leave and I take Holland’s hand.

  “She’s adorable,” Holland says, squeezing my fingers. “I think I’m in love with her already.”

  “She’s easy to fall in love with.”

  “She feels like my niece too. Is it weird that I think that?”

  I laugh. “No, it’s not weird at all.” Then I stop laughing.

  The time is right, because sometimes it just is. Sometimes you have to grab the opportunity to let the ones you love know how much you love them. “But what if she became your niece officially?”

  Holland stops in her tracks and shoots me a curious look. “Andrew . . .”

  “Holland . . .” The ball is in my court, so I bring her close, cup her cheeks. “Want to go ring shopping so we can get married?”

  She laughs, incredulous. “For real?”

  I nod. “As if there’s any other ending to our story but that. I’m marrying you, and you’re going to be mine forever. Are you okay with that?”

  I’m not nervous. I’m not worried. We are an inevitability. We are the sun and the moon and the stars.

  She smiles. “I’m more than okay with that.”

  More than okay. Yeah, I’d say the same for myself. I found a way through, and now I’m living and loving with everything I have. I’m much more than okay.

  I’m whole again.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading UNBREAK MY HEART! This book is a little different than my usual fun, sexy, sweet contemporary romances, and
I’m so delighted that you took a chance on it! I’d love to hear what you thought! Feel free to drop me an email at laurenblakelybooks@gmail.com and be sure to sign up for my newsletter to receive an alert when my next books are available!

  Coming next is ONCE UPON A REAL GOOD TIME, a fun, sexy, swoony rock star romance releasing in September! Chapter One follows and you can order it on most retailers!

  Mackenzie

  I’m not checking him out.

  I am solely focused on answering the next trivia question. The game emcee spouts it out for the four teams vying for the prize at The Grouchy Owl bar. The prize being bragging rights.

  The hostess clears her throat, brings the mic to her mouth, and asks the question: “Which Las Vegas hotel did the bachelor party stay at—”

  I’m perched forward in the chair whispering the answer to my teammate—Caesars, Caesars, Caesars—so we can write it on the answer slip before the hostess even finishes.

  “—in the 2009 movie The Hangover?”

  “So easy,” I say to Roxy as she smacks my palm and mouths ringer while filling in the answer.

  I’m not a ringer.

  I was simply fed a steady diet of Trivial Pursuit, trivia books, and endless facts about the world as a kid.

  That’s all.

  Also, I love trivia. Trivia helped me through some tough times as an adult, and by tough, I mean anxiety-ridden, sleepless, and stressful. That kind of tough.

  As the hostess flips her cards to the next question, the guy on stage—the one I’m not at all checking out—adjusts the amp for his guitar. The Grouchy Owl has a little bit of everything—from darts, to pub quizzes, to pool, to live music from local bands. It’s like a Vegas hotel right here in the West Village. Big Ike doesn’t want patrons to leave, so she makes sure the entertainment options are plentiful.

  And if that handsome hottie stays on the stage, I won’t want to head home for a long, long time. Except I’ll have to. I’m Cinderella, and I turn into a pumpkin in minutes.