And because I want to be honest, I will also admit that I wanted to spare myself the pain of losing you. The truth is that I don’t think I’m worth your love or all the trouble it will take to care for me. Maybe that’s because of my childhood, or maybe it’s just because I know I can be a selfish, stubborn prick and you shouldn’t have to put up with my bullshit, but there it is. So I tried to protect both of us by breaking things off.
I was wrong, and for that I am deeply sorry.
What I should have done was tell you the truth and give you the choice to be with me or walk away.
Which brings me to now. As you know, I am having the surgery on Friday, and the surgeon is hopeful he can remove the entire tumor. After that, we will wait for the biopsy to tell us if it is benign or cancerous. If it is cancer, I will likely need additional treatment like chemotherapy and radiation. It would be a long, difficult road to travel.
I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m scared.
I’m scared of losing feeling in my right hand. I’m scared of losing speech and memory. I’m scared of being dependent on someone else to take care of me. I’m scared of waking up and not feeling like myself anymore. And although I’ve never felt this way before, I’m scared of dying—not because I don’t want to face whatever reckoning awaits me, but because I don’t want to leave this earth yet. For the first time in my life, I’m looking ahead and thinking to myself, I’m not done.
I’m not done living, and I’m not done loving you, Maren Devine. Not by a long shot.
Granted, I’m not much of a catch right now, but I swear to God if you’ll give me that second chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you the happiest woman alive.
You once asked me to let you love me, and I promised I would. Let me keep my promise.
Now, then, always and only yours,
Dallas
I read it over a million times, took a deep breath, and hit send.
Then I closed my laptop, lay back, and prayed she would have it in her heart to forgive me. To accept me. To be mine.
It was going to be a long night.
I was awake for hours—frantically checking my email every five minutes—but eventually fell asleep sometime after three a.m. When I woke up, it was nearly eight, and I quickly looked at my inbox again.
Nothing.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried not to feel like this was a hopeless cause. But my head was pounding, my stomach was upset, and I had a horrible stiff neck from the awkward way I’d slept. Dragging myself out of bed, I followed the smell of coffee downstairs.
“Morning,” Bree said cheerfully, pulling clean plates from the dishwasher. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” I admitted.
She gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. Can I get you some coffee?”
“I can get it.” I took a cup from the cupboard and filled it with coffee from the pot. “Finn at work already?”
“Yes. He went in early today, and he said he’ll be late tonight. But he’s taking off tomorrow and a few days next week.”
That was because of me, and I felt guilty about it as I sat down on a stool at the island. “I wish I didn’t have to inconvenience you guys.”
“You’re not an inconvenience, Dallas.” She gave me a look. “You’re family. This is what we do for each other.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate everything.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused in her work and sipped from a mug on the counter that said There is a good chance this is vodka on it. “Finn told me you guys had a nice time in Portland.”
“We did.”
“I’m really glad. I think it really bothered him, more than he realized, that you two didn’t have a very close relationship. It bothered me, that’s for sure. I was always on him to do something about it, but he was just so darn stubborn.”
I gave her a half-grin. “Runs in the family.”
She laughed. “True. Anyway, I’m so happy about it. I’ve always been so close to my sisters, I can’t imagine what my life would be like without them.”
Her comment got me thinking about something. Maren was close to both her sisters. If I didn’t hear back from her by this afternoon, could I reach out to one of them?
“So what are your plans for today?” Bree asked.
“Uh, not sure, exactly.” Stalking my ex-girlfriend’s sisters seemed like a bad answer.
“Just let me know if there’s anything you need or if you want to go somewhere. I’m happy to take you. And is there anything special you want for your last … for dinner?” She caught herself, but I could see the slip had made her uncomfortable.
I wanted to put her at ease. “You know what was really fun? The night last week when we grilled hamburgers and hot dogs and hung out by the pool.”
She smiled, relieved. “Pool party it is!”
I drank some coffee, ate the toast Bree insisted on making for me, and checked my email again—nothing from Maren. After a quick shower, I unpacked my suitcase, putting clothes in dresser drawers and hanging a few things in the closet, although I hadn’t brought very much. When the kids got up, they wanted me to swim with them, so after checking my inbox one more time—nothing—I put on my suit, and followed them out to the pool.
“Hey, Oly, can I use your sunscreen?” I asked, spying some Coppertone near her pink unicorn towel.
“Sure,” my niece said, watching as I gently put some on my new tattoo, which had healed nicely. “Why do you have to do that?”
“To protect it.”
She looked closer. “What does Maren mean?”
Everything, I thought. “Maren is a name. She’s a friend of mine.”
“In Oregon?”
“Actually, she lives in Detroit. But I hope she comes to see me in Portland sometime.”
“Can I come to Portland sometime, too?”
“You better,” I said, giving her a threatening look.
She flashed a gap-toothed grin my way and went running for the pool. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
I pretended to hustle but let both her and Lane jump in before me.
“You’re a rotten egg, Uncle Dallas! You stink!” Olympia taunted, holding her nose. I retaliated by hoisting her up over my head and throwing her into the deep end. When she surfaced, she was laughing. “Do it again!”
I spent the day at home with the kids, and Finn surprised us all by coming home early. While he went up to change, I checked my email on my phone again, but there was no message from Maren. At this point, it was hard not to feel despondent—she had to have seen it by now, and she’d replied fairly quickly to Finn, hadn’t she? I’d texted and called and emailed. She had to have seen one of those attempts on my part. It was becoming increasingly clear that the issue wasn’t communication—the issue was that she was choosing to walk away.
But even if that was the case, I wanted to know for sure.
“Be right back, guys,” I said, wrapping a towel around me and heading into the house.
Upstairs in my room, I searched “Emme Devine wedding planner” on my phone. From what Maren had told me, Emme was the most romantic of the three sisters, so I figured she was my best bet. The website for Devine Events came up in the search results, and I clicked it.
Then I called the phone number.
“Good afternoon, Devine Events. Amy speaking.”
“Hi, I’m looking to speak with Emme Devine, please.”
“She’s not in the office right now, can I take a message?”
Fuck! I frowned at the water I was dripping on the carpet. “Is there any way I could get hold of her? It’s sort of urgent.”
“Can I have your name?”
I cringed. Emme was not going to want to speak with me. “Dallas Shepherd.”
“And what event is this regarding?”
“It’s not regarding an event. It’s about her sister, Maren.”
“Oh.” Amy sounded alarmed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No. I mean—there’s no emergency or anything, I just really need to speak with Emme about her, and I’m running out of time. Maybe.” God. I sounded like a fucking lunatic.
I was wrong, and for that I am deeply sorry.
What I should have done was tell you the truth and give you the choice to be with me or walk away.
Which brings me to now. As you know, I am having the surgery on Friday, and the surgeon is hopeful he can remove the entire tumor. After that, we will wait for the biopsy to tell us if it is benign or cancerous. If it is cancer, I will likely need additional treatment like chemotherapy and radiation. It would be a long, difficult road to travel.
I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m scared.
I’m scared of losing feeling in my right hand. I’m scared of losing speech and memory. I’m scared of being dependent on someone else to take care of me. I’m scared of waking up and not feeling like myself anymore. And although I’ve never felt this way before, I’m scared of dying—not because I don’t want to face whatever reckoning awaits me, but because I don’t want to leave this earth yet. For the first time in my life, I’m looking ahead and thinking to myself, I’m not done.
I’m not done living, and I’m not done loving you, Maren Devine. Not by a long shot.
Granted, I’m not much of a catch right now, but I swear to God if you’ll give me that second chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you the happiest woman alive.
You once asked me to let you love me, and I promised I would. Let me keep my promise.
Now, then, always and only yours,
Dallas
I read it over a million times, took a deep breath, and hit send.
Then I closed my laptop, lay back, and prayed she would have it in her heart to forgive me. To accept me. To be mine.
It was going to be a long night.
I was awake for hours—frantically checking my email every five minutes—but eventually fell asleep sometime after three a.m. When I woke up, it was nearly eight, and I quickly looked at my inbox again.
Nothing.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried not to feel like this was a hopeless cause. But my head was pounding, my stomach was upset, and I had a horrible stiff neck from the awkward way I’d slept. Dragging myself out of bed, I followed the smell of coffee downstairs.
“Morning,” Bree said cheerfully, pulling clean plates from the dishwasher. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” I admitted.
She gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. Can I get you some coffee?”
“I can get it.” I took a cup from the cupboard and filled it with coffee from the pot. “Finn at work already?”
“Yes. He went in early today, and he said he’ll be late tonight. But he’s taking off tomorrow and a few days next week.”
That was because of me, and I felt guilty about it as I sat down on a stool at the island. “I wish I didn’t have to inconvenience you guys.”
“You’re not an inconvenience, Dallas.” She gave me a look. “You’re family. This is what we do for each other.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate everything.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused in her work and sipped from a mug on the counter that said There is a good chance this is vodka on it. “Finn told me you guys had a nice time in Portland.”
“We did.”
“I’m really glad. I think it really bothered him, more than he realized, that you two didn’t have a very close relationship. It bothered me, that’s for sure. I was always on him to do something about it, but he was just so darn stubborn.”
I gave her a half-grin. “Runs in the family.”
She laughed. “True. Anyway, I’m so happy about it. I’ve always been so close to my sisters, I can’t imagine what my life would be like without them.”
Her comment got me thinking about something. Maren was close to both her sisters. If I didn’t hear back from her by this afternoon, could I reach out to one of them?
“So what are your plans for today?” Bree asked.
“Uh, not sure, exactly.” Stalking my ex-girlfriend’s sisters seemed like a bad answer.
“Just let me know if there’s anything you need or if you want to go somewhere. I’m happy to take you. And is there anything special you want for your last … for dinner?” She caught herself, but I could see the slip had made her uncomfortable.
I wanted to put her at ease. “You know what was really fun? The night last week when we grilled hamburgers and hot dogs and hung out by the pool.”
She smiled, relieved. “Pool party it is!”
I drank some coffee, ate the toast Bree insisted on making for me, and checked my email again—nothing from Maren. After a quick shower, I unpacked my suitcase, putting clothes in dresser drawers and hanging a few things in the closet, although I hadn’t brought very much. When the kids got up, they wanted me to swim with them, so after checking my inbox one more time—nothing—I put on my suit, and followed them out to the pool.
“Hey, Oly, can I use your sunscreen?” I asked, spying some Coppertone near her pink unicorn towel.
“Sure,” my niece said, watching as I gently put some on my new tattoo, which had healed nicely. “Why do you have to do that?”
“To protect it.”
She looked closer. “What does Maren mean?”
Everything, I thought. “Maren is a name. She’s a friend of mine.”
“In Oregon?”
“Actually, she lives in Detroit. But I hope she comes to see me in Portland sometime.”
“Can I come to Portland sometime, too?”
“You better,” I said, giving her a threatening look.
She flashed a gap-toothed grin my way and went running for the pool. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
I pretended to hustle but let both her and Lane jump in before me.
“You’re a rotten egg, Uncle Dallas! You stink!” Olympia taunted, holding her nose. I retaliated by hoisting her up over my head and throwing her into the deep end. When she surfaced, she was laughing. “Do it again!”
I spent the day at home with the kids, and Finn surprised us all by coming home early. While he went up to change, I checked my email on my phone again, but there was no message from Maren. At this point, it was hard not to feel despondent—she had to have seen it by now, and she’d replied fairly quickly to Finn, hadn’t she? I’d texted and called and emailed. She had to have seen one of those attempts on my part. It was becoming increasingly clear that the issue wasn’t communication—the issue was that she was choosing to walk away.
But even if that was the case, I wanted to know for sure.
“Be right back, guys,” I said, wrapping a towel around me and heading into the house.
Upstairs in my room, I searched “Emme Devine wedding planner” on my phone. From what Maren had told me, Emme was the most romantic of the three sisters, so I figured she was my best bet. The website for Devine Events came up in the search results, and I clicked it.
Then I called the phone number.
“Good afternoon, Devine Events. Amy speaking.”
“Hi, I’m looking to speak with Emme Devine, please.”
“She’s not in the office right now, can I take a message?”
Fuck! I frowned at the water I was dripping on the carpet. “Is there any way I could get hold of her? It’s sort of urgent.”
“Can I have your name?”
I cringed. Emme was not going to want to speak with me. “Dallas Shepherd.”
“And what event is this regarding?”
“It’s not regarding an event. It’s about her sister, Maren.”
“Oh.” Amy sounded alarmed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No. I mean—there’s no emergency or anything, I just really need to speak with Emme about her, and I’m running out of time. Maybe.” God. I sounded like a fucking lunatic.
