Her Second Chance Dream Groom

by Emma St Clair

  Amy flopped back on her bed and put a pillow over her face. It didn’t silence the thudding of her poor, broken heart.

  No, that wasn’t her heart. She sat up. It was the door. Someone was pounding on the door.

  Adjusting her shirt and crossing her arms over her chest to hide the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra, Amy pulled open the door. Delia stood there, mouth gaping open like she had been about to speak. Her eyes trailed over Amy’s body, from her mismatched socks to whatever state her hair was in.

  “Are you coming in or are you just going to stare all day?”

  “What … happened to you?” Delia stepped inside the front hall, still staring.

  Amy locked the door and headed for the kitchen. She needed coffee. Stat. The pressure of a headache formed right at the top of her head.

  “Ames? Are you okay?”

  Amy gave a short laugh as she rinsed the coffee pot. “I’d say I feel about as bad as I look, but that’s not true. I feel worse.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “Actually, yes. But that’s not why I look like this.” Amy spun around to face her sister, anger simmering dangerously close to the surface. She couldn’t blame Delia for all of this, but she was definitely responsible for some of it.

  Delia sank down onto a stool. “So, you’re sick? What is it? Flu?”

  Amy shook her head. “Breast cancer.”

  This wasn’t how she meant this conversation to go. But it felt like something inside Amy had broken along with her heart. She couldn’t have stopped the words if she tried. Delia gasped and rocked back, almost falling off the stool.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “I’m supposed to start treatment next week, but I can’t bring myself to call and make an appointment. And I told Sy we couldn’t date, like I promised you. I hope you’re happy, because I’ve never been so unhappy in my life. I am miserable. My heart is in a million pieces, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m probably going to die. At least one of us deserves to be happy. So, I hope you are.”

  Amy couldn’t look at Delia, so she turned her attention to the coffee. With shaking hands, she tried to measure out the grounds. How many scoops per cup? How many cups of water had she added to the machine? Had she even put in water?

  When Delia’s arms snaked around her waist, Amy was so startled that she dropped the spoon. It clattered against the counter, then fell on the floor. Coffee grounds dotted her socks. They blurred away as her eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m sorry for being mean,” Amy said with a shuddering breath as Delia’s cheek pressed into her back. “I shouldn’t have said all that. It didn’t make me feel better.”

  “No,” Delia whispered. “I’m sorry. About so many things. Too many to count. I’ve been incredibly selfish. I was angry and jealous, and I just feel like so much of a failure. I couldn’t make it in L.A., and here you’re running this amazing bed and breakfast for Nana—”

  “I’m going broke,” Amy said. “I can’t afford the property taxes due next month.” It wasn’t funny. None of it was. But Amy’s shoulders started to shake until a giggle escaped her lips. “Sorry,” she said.

  Against her back, Delia began to shake too. “Look at us. We’re both failures. Total disasters.” She laughed loudly, and the sound drew out more of Amy’s laughter.

  Amy spun and threw her arms around Delia’s neck. “You are so, so selfish. But you aren’t a failure. I love you, D.”

  “I am selfish. I can’t believe I told you that you shouldn’t date Sy. That was really terrible of me.”

  Amy breathed out long and slow. Her humor disappeared as fast as it had come, leaving her feeling empty and cold. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. I’ve got cancer. I’m not bringing him into that again.”

  Delia pulled back, holding Amy in place and piercing her with a firm look. “That isn’t your choice to make, is it?”

  “It is, actually. I’m doing what’s best for him.”

  Pursing her lips, Delia frowned. “What you think is best for him. But he’s an adult. And he gets to choose, Ames. You aren’t allowed to withhold that from him and make a decision like that. It’s his to make.”

  Amy closed her eyes. “I don’t want him to be with me because he feels sorry for me. I don’t know if I can handle his pity.”

  “Did Sy ever pity you? When you were young and scrawny and bald from all the treatments, did he ever look at you like he felt sorry for you?”

  “No, but—”

  “That’s enough.” Delia stepped back and got a serious look on her face. “I’ll slap you if I have to, but you are going to do some things right now. First, I’m going to make coffee while you shower. You stink. Then, we’re charging your phone. I’m assuming it’s dead since it’s been going straight to voicemail. Plug it in. I’ll call your doctor and set up the appointment. I’m guessing you haven’t told Mom?”

  Amy shook her head. “I was going to wait until after Christmas. I didn’t want to ruin things.”

  Delia rolled her eyes. “Again, you shouldn’t have taken that decision away from us. We’re here with you. If anything, it will make us embrace the holiday more. Okay?”

  “I think I like you best when you’re bossy. Forget acting. You need to be in charge of things. You’re good at this.”

  “Well, good. Because I’m applying for a new job as the manager of a charity here.”

  “You’re going to stay in Katy? Not try again for L.A.?”

  “No. Now get in the shower. We’ll talk about me later. After we take care of all your stuff. And then the next order of business? Get Sy back. Oh, and I love the pergola, by the way. When did you put that up?”

  “What pergola?” Amy’s eyes went to the window and she slapped a hand over her mouth. She had been so busy wallowing that she hadn’t even glanced out of a window. Sure enough, a pergola stood finished over the back patio. But where did it come from? It hadn’t been there the day before. Had it?

  “Sy. He must have done it with the twins when I was at the doctor’s. I didn’t even notice. Or thank him.” Her eyes filled with tears again.

  “There will be time for tears later. And time to thank him.” Delia swatted Amy’s behind. “Get. I mean it. I’ll turn off the hot water if you don’t get started.”

  Laughing and wiping her eyes, Amy started for her bedroom. “Do you even know how to turn off the hot water?”

  “There’s a YouTube video for everything,” Delia said.

  As Amy stepped under the hot water a few minutes later, she let the stinging spray turn her skin crimson. She wanted it to burn off her insecurities, her fears, and her worries. When she got out, she vowed that she would fight. Not just fight against the cancer, but fight for Sy.

  If he still wanted her, that is. Delia was right. Amy needed to give him the choice.

  Chapter 15

  FIFTEEN

  Sy checked his phone again, then turned the treadmill up higher. Sweat dripped from his body, but he just kept pushing himself. Pushing or punishing? Maybe a little of both. Not that a hard workout could be more of a punishment than walking away from Amy.

  He hadn’t expected her to call or text, but he couldn’t stop checking his phone. Just in case. Sy could have sworn that he saw hesitation in her face that day. Like she didn’t really want to be saying goodbye to him. It would have been easy to blame Delia, but Sy blamed himself. He shouldn’t have been afraid to speak up, to tell Delia he wasn’t interested and be clear with Amy that he was interested.

  Or maybe it simply was too complicated with his history and the fact that they were sisters. Maybe nothing he did would have been enough.

  Sy’s calf began to cramp and he slammed his hand down on the button to stop the machine. He stepped off to stretch, then wiped down the treadmill. The temperature had dropped, but maybe he could go for a swim. His pool out back was heated, except in summer, of course. San Antonio wasn’t as hot as Houston, but close enough. If he could have dumped ice in the pool daily during
the summer months, he would have.

  Sy checked his phone again. It was like a reflex. Groaning, he turned it off and left it on the kitchen counter, then stripped off his shirt and shoes and dived into the pool in his workout shorts. Alone in San Antonio with still a few more days to go before he had to be at practice, Sy had too much time and not enough to fill it. At least he would be totally prepared for their game next week. With nothing to do other than obsessively looking to see if Amy had messaged him, Sy worked out, ate, and slept. Though he didn’t spend every holiday with his family, Sy generally planned better when he didn’t. He would join a buddy or teammate to do something. The totally open schedule unnerved him.

  Swimming had never been his strong suit, but Sy started a slow crawl from one side of the pool to the other and back again. Even when he wanted to relax and unwind, he couldn’t. Last night, when he arrived home from Katy, he walked into his empty house and realized something. Sy had recreated the home he remembered and hated from his childhood: empty and alone. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but subconsciously, he gravitated to what he knew.

  But was that what he wanted? A life with no family, coming home to an empty house?

  It had never bothered him so much before. Or he just kept so busy that he didn’t have this kind of downtime to think about it or to really feel it. Surrounded by the team so much of the time, his time away had felt like an escape, peaceful and serene. Usually, he stayed in town at his one-bedroom loft closer to practice. But with more time, he came out to his house, perched on a hillside thirty minutes outside of town, overlooking a lake.

  Today, it didn’t feel peaceful. If anything, all the silence made him restless. He missed company, having someone to talk to. He missed Amy.

  He finished a few more laps and pulled himself out of the pool. Goosebumps broke out over his skin. Sy stood by the iron fence at the back of his property, looking down over the lake. There was a trail outside the gate that led down to a small dock with a paddleboat. It had come with the house and he’d tried taking it out—once. You really needed two people on either side to paddle or the thing spun in circles. He’d barely made it back to the dock.

  This was stupid. Sy didn’t want to give up so easily. Amy made it sound like she didn’t want him, but he felt the connection between them. He could see the way she pulled away in their last conversation, like it took effort. As though it was something she had to do, not something she wanted to do.

  Sy walked back inside, dripping all over the wood floors. It didn’t matter. If he had to live alone in a place like this, the wood floors were the least of his concerns. Turning on his phone, Sy sent a text to Amy.

  Sy: Ames, I miss you. I know you said this couldn’t work, but I have this feeling like I shouldn’t give up. I don’t want to give up. I’m going to leave you tickets for our game Christmas Eve. Three—for you, your mom, and Delia. We have a box, so it will be super fancy. Come if you want. I know I’d play better knowing that my number one fan is watching.

  For the first time in days, Sy smiled. Amy didn’t answer but knowing that he’d put that out there made him feel better. He hadn’t given up.

  Now, he had to hope that Amy really hadn’t given up on him either.

  Chapter 16

  SIXTEEN

  “You look fine,” Delia said, punching the elevator button. “For the fiftieth time.”

  “Fine?” Amy smoothed her hands down the black skirt she’d chosen to wear to Sy’s game. She still felt out of place in the skirt, which she’d paired with boots and then a women’s jersey with Sy’s number. It felt way too fancy for a pro game, but they weren’t going to be in the stands. Sy had left tickets for special VIP seating. They were on the way up now, from somewhere in the back of the stadium, the sound of music and the crowd barely reaching their ears.

  Delia had opted for a short, fitted dress. Just in case they got to meet any of the other players, obviously. Amy still didn’t know if that was going to happen. She didn’t even know if she could see Sy. On game day, players had to be completely focused, even after the game, when they were expected to meet the press and had other duties. She and Delia would drive back after, even though it would essentially be pulling an all-nighter. Christmas was the following morning, and they didn’t want to miss spending it with their mom.

  The elevator dinged open and a woman in Rebels’ colors and a name tag greeted them. “Right this way to your box.”

  Amy squealed, feeling like a little kid. Delia grabbed her arm, looking just as excited, as they walked into a spacious box overlooking the field. And if the view weren’t enough, huge flat-screen televisions covered the walls, showing the field, but also coverage from the sports station. Plush red seats filled the room and there were servers scattered around the room, with a table holding a spread of game snacks that made Amy’s stomach rumble.

  Delia elbowed her. “Okay, that’s it. You’re going to marry Sy, so this can be our life forever.”

  “Delia,” Amy hissed, looking around the room. There were clearly a few other players’ girlfriends or wives in the box. She kept up with stats, not gossip sites, so she didn’t recognize any of them. But the last thing she wanted was for word to get back to Sy that Amy was here, talking about marrying him. They’d been on one date. One. Then she essentially broke up with him. Then he sent her a text and now she was here. Hardly an engagement story.

  That didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about it. She already knew her answer too. Just in case he asked. Not that he was going to ask. But a girl had to be prepared. Amy had been working on something new: thinking positively rather than assuming the worst. She had also been praying. Even if a lot of those prayers centered around Sy, it was a step in the right direction.

  “You cannot embarrass me,” Amy said. “Promise.”

  “Scouts’ honor.”

  “You weren’t ever a scout.”

  Delia giggled. “I know. Let’s get some food and sit down. That chair is calling my name.”

  A few minutes later, Amy sat perched on the edge of a comfortable chair, nibbling on nachos and staring down at the field where guys were doing warm-ups. She found Sy’s number, feeling her heart take off in her chest at the sight of him, even from so far away. She had the urge to stand at the window and shout his name, waving her arms wildly. But there was no way he could hear her. She didn’t want to make herself a spectacle in front of the other players’ wives and girlfriends.

  “You are so adorable. It’s like you’re a kid in a candy shop for the first time or something,” Delia said.

  “That’s how it feels, actually. I’ve been such a fan for so long. To see the game up close like this—it’s incredible. I might ask you to pinch me later.”

  “Oh, I’ll happily pinch you,” Delia said. “Did you tell him that you were here?”

  Amy shook her head. “He’s busy. It’s game day. He needs to focus on his job.”

  “Ames, we talked about this. You need to stop making decisions for other people. Text him. If he chooses to text back, that’s his choice. Got it? It will be good practice for when you talk to him about the fact that you made a colossal mistake, your sister is a terrible person, and then tell him you have cancer.”

  Pressing a hand to her stomach, Amy wrinkled up her nose. “When you put it like that, it sounds so overwhelming.”

  Delia sighed. “Fine. One thing at a time. Text him now. Tell him you’re here. A small start, okay?”

  “Fine.” Amy pulled out her phone as the crowd below went wild. It was almost time for the National Anthem and the game itself. Before everything could start, she shot off a quick text.

  Amy: I’m here. This box is incredible. I can’t believe I actually get to see you play in person! I definitely am your number one fan. Even if I didn’t paint my face.

  Amy tucked her phone into her bra since her skirt didn’t have pockets. She wanted it close. Just in case.

  They stood for the National Anthem and Amy found herself with tears in h
er eyes. It’s just a game, she tried to tell herself. But she felt way more invested than that. Even if she hadn’t seen and gotten close to Sy this past week, being at his game would have been a monumental experience. As the canons went off and fireworks rained down from the top of the stadium, Amy wiped her eyes. She realized Delia was wiping hers too.

  “Look at us! Crying over a football game,” Amy said, giggling.

  Delia sniffed. “Shut up. And don’t tell anyone. I don’t really even like football. This just feels like a big deal.”

  Amy squeezed her hand as they both sat down. “It is. And, despite everything, or maybe because of it, I’m glad you’re here with me. You’re a good sister, D.”

  “I’m not. But I’m working on it. And I promise to have your back, no matter what happens. Okay?”

  “You’re going to make me cry again. And I really just want to watch the coin toss, so no offense, but stop talking.”

  “Done.” Delia grinned as Amy leaned even farther over, trying to see more of the field. “You know there are TVs—”

  “Sh!” Amy smacked Delia on the arm, then stood up and cheered with the Rebels got the ball. “Oh, sorry,” she said, looking around the room. But the other people in the box only smiled and laughed. Most of them looked just as excited as she did.

  She thought that her adrenaline would calm as the game went on, but if anything, Amy got more riled up as they neared the half. Thankfully, she wasn’t the only one cheering or shouting at the refs. Delia laughed and said Amy was more entertaining than the game itself. Which made no sense. This was one of the single best moments of her life.