Endless Love Letter (Love Letter Duet Book 2)

by Anderson, Callie

  “You have this all planned and ready to go?”

  Stacey sat back on her chair and jokingly kicked her feet up in the air. “I learned from the best. Not to mention, if Emilia found out I wasn’t delivering my A–game, she would come in here and kick my ass!”

  I chuckled and shook my head. When it came to work, Emilia didn’t play.

  “So, what else is new?” Stacey asked.

  I sat back and kicked my feet up like she had done. I made myself comfortable knowing that I would be a while catching up with life and our plan of action for the band.

  * * *

  I arrived home early that afternoon. Emilia sat in the center of the floor with my old vinyl records scattered around her.

  “What are you up to?” I sang in the same beat that The Beatles were playing behind her.

  “We need a music room.” She closed her eyes and danced while she sat on the floor listening to Paul McCartney. “These need to be played every day and not hidden in boxes.”

  I strolled over to her, making sure I didn’t step on any records. Pulling her off the floor, I laced my arms around her lower back and we began to step side to side. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

  Emilia stood on her tippy toes and brushed her lips against mine. Her arms wrapped around my neck and we danced for the remainder of the song. “How was your meeting?” she asked when the track changed.

  “Good.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “I have to fly out to Chicago on Friday morning.”

  “Can I come? I haven’t seen Leslie since the wedding. Please?” She folded her hands under her chin.

  I nodded. “Let’s go to Chicago.”

  Emilia jumped into my arms and claimed my lips with hers. My hands slid down her body and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around my torso. Our lips never parted as I gently laid her on the floor and deepened our kiss. Surrounded by my records, we made love.

  * * *

  We left Lyra with my mother and hopped on a plane to Chicago. It was a quick weekend trip, but one we were both excited about. Leaving O’Hare, we headed straight to Leslie’s brownstone apartment.

  The cool air had clouds of steam coming out every time I exhaled and Emilia danced around to keep warm as we waited for Leslie to open the door. She looked so small in her bulky coat and knitted hat.

  “You look like a marshmallow.” I joked and pulled her closer to me to warm her up.

  Emilia sucked her teeth and punched me in the gut. For a girl who was so tiny she had some strength behind her.

  “Welcome to the fucking cold!” Leslie said when she pulled open the door, a glass of wine in her hand. I released Emilia from my arms and she greeted Leslie with a lengthy hug.

  “I’m still freezing here,” I said while they held each other.

  “Geez, when did you become such a pansy?” Leslie joked and gave me a quick kiss before leading us into her apartment.

  Leslie took our coats and grabbed me a beer and a warm tea for Emilia. The table had been set for dinner already. Unlike Emilia, Leslie didn’t cook. She had ordered takeout—it was what she considered her specialty. The delivery guy showed up shortly after us and we sat for dinner.

  After we were done eating I lay on the couch that was right next to the dining table and watched the Tom Sloan show while they caught up on life. I tried to focus on the show, but as they continued to talk, I tuned out the show to listen in.

  “How are you feeling, Em?” Leslie asked.

  “I’m okay,” Emilia exhaled. “The mornings are still tough, and the doctor said I will get my strength back eventually, but from what I read, it’ll take a year before I feel like myself again.”

  “And married life? Are you liking it better this time around?”

  I shook my head at Leslie’s comment.

  “And you’re still an asshole, clearly.” Emilia laughed. “To answer your stupid question, yes. I’m loving married life. I got to marry Weston.” She sang my name. “Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

  “That’s so cliché. Hey!” she complained, and I knew Emilia had probably thrown something at her. “No, seriously, Emmy, you had a pretty hard life these past couple months. I think it’s time good things happen to you.”

  Emilia inhaled and exhaled extravagantly. “I guess.”

  “What are you gonna do when they go on tour?” Leslie paused from what I assumed was to take another sip of her wine. “Are you going to follow them or are you gonna stay home?”

  I lowered the volume on the television to hear Emilia better. I wanted to know how she really felt about me leaving. In all honesty, it was something that scared me. If our sophomore album did well, we would have to go on tour. That took days on the road. Hours away from loved ones.

  “I’m hoping they don’t go on tour until next summer.” Emilia sounded hopeful. “That gives me nine months to get better. And I’m not sure if Lyra and I will go on tour the whole time with them, especially if she is still in school. I want to keep her life pretty normal. I grew up on a tour bus, and I don’t want the same for her.” Emilia paused. “But enough about me, tell me about you. What’s going on? We barely spoke this past month and when we did, it was about chemo and how I was feeling.” Emilia laughed. “I’m kind of really tired of talking about cancer, so tell me something juicy. Who are you dating?”

  “Eh, you know how I am. I only fall for the asshole who I’m going to try to fix, and then I’ll get hurt.”

  “Les . . .”

  “It’s true.” She laughed. “I come with a lot of baggage, Emmy. You know that. I’m all dark and twisty and no one wants to commit to me.” She laughed again. “There have been casual hook ups but no one who caught my attention.”

  “Don’t say that. You can’t give up on love.”

  “I’m not giving up on love.” I heard a chair slide against the hardwood floor. “You had your baggage with you parents. I have mine.”

  “Okay,” Emilia said, another chair slid against the floor. “And look at me now. I swore I wouldn’t be my parents. Their death screwed me royally,” Emilia laughed sarcastically, “but you can’t fight destiny. Trust me, I tried. My dad was a lead singer in a band. Weston is a lead singer in a band. My mom had me. I had Lyra. Mom had cancer. Guess what I got. Cancer! Me!” Emilia exhaled. “Everything I didn’t want turned out to be the best thing in my life. I never made so many mistakes as I have with Weston. The shit I did with Lyra is unforgivable, and fucking chemo was the worst thing possible, but look at us now. You can’t hide from something because it might scare you or because you don’t want history to repeat itself. I would go through chemo every single day if it meant I could have Weston and Lyra in my life.

  “You’re right.” Leslie said and walked toward the kitchen. “But you were afraid of relationships because you were afraid of them. My problem is I’ve been burned so many times I continue to find these assholes and it becomes my pet project to fix them. You’re not the only one with daddy issues. To me, every man will turn out like my father. A deadbeat who will break my heart and then leave, no matter how much I try to fix them.” Leslie’s voice cracked and I knew the air between them had shifted.

  “Do you want chocolate pudding?” Leslie asked and laughed.

  “Yeah,” Emilia said quietly.

  Their conversation was over.

  I turned the volume back up on the television and went back to watching Tom Sloan.

  * * *

  Later that night, Emilia lay curled up on the hotel bed. White pillows surrounded her and her laptop lay open in front of her. I had finished my conversation with Pete and walked back into the bedroom. The nightstand light was on and a wide grin appeared on her face before she began to laugh at whatever she was looking at on the computer screen.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, standing at the edge of the bed.

  Laughing harder, she turned the computer screen toward me. “You have to see this.” I pulled back the comforter and c
rawled into bed with her. “Sally just sent me this. It’s from Halloween,” she said before she pressed the play button. The video was of their son, Edward, who had been scaring Axel with his Halloween mask. When Axel screamed of fright, Edward fell on the floor laughing hysterically. It was that infectious baby laugh that no one could help but laugh along with.

  “Isn’t he cute?” Emilia turned the computer back to her and watched the video once again.

  “You know we can have another kid.” I turned to face her, my head held up with my hands.

  “Did you hit your head?” She closed the laptop and placed it on her nightstand. “Do you not remember the past five months of our lives?” She shook her head and pulled the down comforter higher on her body. “No uterus means no baby.”

  “I’m not saying that you’ll get pregnant and have a baby. We can adopt. Doesn’t have to be right now. I know there’s a lot going on, so maybe in a year or two.” I ran my thumb over her lower lip. “When our life is a bit more normalized.”

  A sideways grin grew on her face. “I think I’d like that.” She shifted on the bed and rested her head on my chest.

  “So we’ll talk about this sometime later in the future?” I kissed the top of her head.

  “Yeah.”

  I hugged her tighter and inhaled her tantalizing scent. “Can I ask you something else?” I whispered.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you love me?”

  Emilia looked up at me and smiled. “You have no idea how much I love you.”

  * * *

  The holidays felt exhausting. When I wasn’t with Emilia and Lyra, I was in the studio until the late part of the night working on our new album. And when the album was finally finished, the promoting began—which only caused more fatigue.

  We traveled to Seattle to see my parents and Mama for Thanksgiving. Emilia decided that she and Lyra should stay a whole week with them while I headed to New York with the guys for a radio show and some meet and greets. It seemed like a smart idea at the time, but staying away from my girls for four nights had me itching to get home.

  The first week of December, we transformed our house into a winter wonderland. Emilia pointed while Pete, Axel, and I hung all the decorations. There were three full–sized Christmas trees in our house, including a pink tree in Lyra’s room. When I asked her why we needed so many, her response was simple.

  “When I was going through chemo, there were days I thought I wouldn’t be here for Christmas. So now that I’m here, I plan to celebrate every part of it.” I smiled and pulled her into my arms. This was what you realize when you’ve survived cancer. You learn to live each day to the fullest. You understand that the simplest moments are worth every second.

  Christmas morning, I woke up to an empty bed. It was more like the middle of the night than morning, but the fear of losing Emilia still had not left me. Frantic, I jumped up and went to find her. My heart raced with each passing second, my mind expecting the worst. I found her in the living room, tucking Lyra’s gifts under the Christmas tree.

  “What are—?”

  “Shh!” She raised her hand. “You’ll wake her.”

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  “We forgot to put these out last night and I didn’t want to ruin her Christmas,” she whispered and shoved another gift under the tree.

  I sat on the couch and Emilia joined me once she was done. The tree had been decorated with green and red glass balls, the white LED lights illuminating around each branch. I had held Lyra up so she could put the star on the highest branch of the tree.

  “Merry Christmas.” I placed my arm around Emilia and brought her closer to me.

  “Merry Christmas.” Emilia kissed my cheek. She pulled an envelope out from under the couch cushion and handed it to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked, turning over the white legal–sized envelope.

  “Your Christmas gift.” She smiled, her eyes bright.

  My fingers slid inside the envelope and pulled out the few pieces of paper. Adoption Package for Prospective Parents was typewritten at the top. “Em?” I looked over at her. “Is this our application?”

  “If you want to adopt a child, I’m on board.” She turned to face me. “Of course, it won’t be overnight, and who even knows if we’ll get approved, but I figured we could try.” She bit her lower lip. “I want a house filled with rugrats.” She leaned over and kissed my lips. “We can be the next Brangelina and have a ton of kids.”

  “I think Lyra would like that very much.” I framed Emilia’s face. “We’re going to be parents again.”

  “Hopefully.”

  20

  March

  When everything changed.

  Everything seemed perfect.

  But not everything was as it seemed.

  Emilia had been cancer–free for six months. She was stronger, the color in her cheeks was finally returning, and little stubbles were starting to form on her scalp.

  I had my girls.

  I had my family.

  I had it all.

  Until the rug was pulled out from under us.

  I woke up on a sunny morning as I had done for the past few months to find Emilia peacefully sleeping. Mornings were still hard for her. The chemo lingered in her body, making it hard for her to awaken early enough to get Lyra to school. I rolled over and kissed her bare shoulder. Her soft snores were barely audible.

  After I’d showered, I brewed a fresh pot of coffee and packed Lyra’s lunch. Lyra’s little feet stomped across the wood floor as she joined me in the kitchen. She’d dressed in her school uniform and carried her hairbrush for me. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head.

  “Morning, princess.” I walked over and cradled her in my arms. I would be heading off on tour in late June and I wanted to be there as much I could for them both.

  Lyra giggled as I spun her around. Strolling into the guest bath, I sat her on the sink as I began to brush her hair. “Daddy, is Mommy still sleeping?” Her big eyes looked up at me through the mirror.

  “Yes, sweetie, is everything okay?” I pulled her tendrils back into a ponytail.

  Lyra took a deep breath and shook her head slowly. “Is Mommy always going to be tired?”

  “No, soon she’ll be strong again.”

  “When I’m sick, Mommy tells me she loves me and a few days later I feel better. Maybe if I tell her I love her more she’ll get better, too.” Her eyes were wide with hope.

  I laced the hair tie around her hair and kissed the top of her head. “I think that’s a great idea. Why don’t we make Mommy a card after you get out of school today?” Lyra beamed up at me. “Now go eat your cereal. We don’t want to be late.”

  I drove Lyra to school, walked her to class, kissed her goodbye and then headed straight home. I’d followed that same routine for months. Most days, when I walked through the door, Emilia would be sitting in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee.

  But it wasn’t an ordinary day.

  My keys dangled from my fingers as I strolled into the kitchen. To my surprise, Emilia wasn’t sitting at the kitchen table. My gaze scanned the room. The coffee hadn’t been touched.

  A chill ran up my spine.

  There was something wrong. I could feel it.

  “Em?” I called out. I jogged up the stairs two at a time and pushed open our bedroom door. “Em?” I said softly. My voice was lodged in my throat.

  The bed was empty.

  “Emilia?”

  My feet felt as if they were stuck in quicksand as I walked toward the bathroom and pushed the door ajar.

  Her frail body was on the tile floor surrounded by a pool of blood.

  “Emilia!” I cried and dove to her side. Turning her over slowly, I brought my face to hers. She was still breathing. I dug my free hand into my pocket and yanked out my cell phone. My fingers trembled as I dialed 9–1–1.

  “Stay with me. Please, Em!”

  “9–1–1, what’s your emergency?” The disp
atcher’s voice echoed in my ear.

  I blinked through my tears and tried to focus. The blood swooshing through my ears made it hard to hear anything but my rapid heartbeat. “I need an ambulance! She’s unconscious. She’s twenty–seven years old, she had uterine cancer and I found her on the bathroom floor. I think she’s hemorrhaging.”

  With shaky hands, I brushed Emilia’s hair off her soft cheek. “Please stay with me,” I begged.

  “Sir, help is on the way.”

  Please, God, don’t take her.

  Please, God, let her live.

  Please.

  Please.

  It took the EMTs seven crucial minutes to arrive at our house. Four hundred and twenty seconds. Each second felt like a lifetime.

  When I heard the sirens outside, I gently laid her back on the floor and rushed to open the door. I wanted to cradle her in my arms and bring her to them but I didn’t want to damage anything else.

  I stood to the side as the EMTs strapped her on a stretcher and rolled her out. My fists were locked at my sides, my fear laced around the muscles of my body. I hopped in the ambulance with her. The EMTs connected a heart monitor and oxygen and took her blood pressure.

  Adrenaline coursed through my veins shielding me from what was really happening. It was my body’s way of protecting me and controlling the fear that radiated within me.

  “What do we have?” A doctor in blue scrubs shouted when the ambulance doors were swung open. I moved to the side waiting for them to pull her out and wheel her inside.

  “Twenty–seven, female, unconscious, BP is one ten over fifty,” the EMT stated.

  I followed behind them. Three other doctors walked with us. One placed a stethoscope over her heart as they wheeled her into a trauma room.

  “Sir, you’re going to have to stay here.” A male doctor placed his hands on my shoulders, not letting me go any further. “Let us do what we have to do and I’ll come get you as soon as I know anything.”

  Resting my hands on the back of my neck, I felt paralyzed from the waist down. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to do something, but at that moment, I couldn’t move.