Happily Ever After: A Romance Collection

by Amelia Wilde

  “This is confusing. I want to run away far away from him but a part of me wants to stay and find out what’s next with him.”

  “When are you breaking up with Heath?” Brynn is now lying next to me, playing with her phone.

  I unlock my phone typing a message. “Today?”

  Me: We need to talk.

  Heath: Where were you?

  Me: Out with a friend, lost track of time and left my phone behind.

  Heath: I have the kids today.

  Me: I’m going out of town tomorrow morning, can I swing by?

  Heath: Mom agreed to come over to check on them later tonight. I’ll be there around seven.

  “It’s not you, it’s me,” Brynn recites, staring at her phone. “We’re better as friends. We are too alike. I need space.”

  “Cliché much?” I comment.

  “I’m not ready for commitment.” She laughs, and I join her. As she sobers up, she looks at me. “I think we’re moving too fast.”

  “You’re ridiculous!”

  “The question is, are you breaking up to get rid of him?” I raise an eyebrow, what is she getting on about? “Or are you breaking up to start something with Anderson?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  12

  Anderson

  I hate thinking about that douchebag touching Aspen.

  “You’ve been looking outside my window for the past two hours.” Mom lowers the volume of her television. “Watching The Walking Dead by myself isn’t as fun. What happened to ‘that’s not possible. No zombie can walk as fast,’ or my favorite, ‘that guy should’ve died three episodes ago’?”

  I check my phone, tempted to text her. We’re leaving tomorrow morning for San Jose, and she’s not home. Fucking jealousy.

  “She’ll be back soon,” Mom declares with confidence.

  “Who?”

  “Aspen,” she says, smiling knowingly at me. “You like her.”

  “We’re friends,” I lie because friendship is the last thing I want from the girl-next-door.

  Running a hand through my hair, I let out a breath. For years, my missions took priority over my life. They came first. My unit came second. Socializing wasn’t on my mind. Not until I quit and started living a civilian life, or something closer to it. People, mainly Mom, don’t understand it. They don’t realize that what I do takes center stage, and it’s the engine that drives my life. Dedicated to the cause, I never had time to meet a woman the way I’m getting to know Aspen.

  Last night was different. Every day with her is special: a dose of life, something new to learn, a call from the outside world. Like in everything I’ve done, I have to research and explore my surroundings. I need to understand what’s happening between us, and wait for her to trust me.

  “I’m glad you found someone.” She ignores my ‘we’re friends’ declaration. “Happy that it’s one of my girls. Leaving you is getting easier.”

  My head snaps back at her. “No. You’re not leaving.”

  “You don’t want to listen to the doctors, but I’m not responding to treatments. This illness might win over my body, but I won’t let it dictate my last days. You have to stop.”

  “One more doctor, you promised.”

  “She’s here,” Mom says, pointing at the window. “Those red lights next door are usually his car.”

  Mom’s right. The black sedan is here. “How do you know?”

  She tilts her head, winking at me. “It’s a gift. Go check on her before your head explodes.” Crossing my arms, I glare at her. She touches her temple. “That vein is pulsing fast, just like the one on your neck.”

  “Aspen is a friend, Mom.”

  “You keep saying that, honey.”

  “Be right back, Mom.” I lift my hands, giving up. She can’t possibly understand what Aspen and I have. I don’t even know what we have. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing with her.

  I walk outside through the back door. I’m making my way to the main entrance when I hear her utter, “drive careful.”

  “Call me when you get back, Aspen,” he kisses her on the cheek, turning around and sauntering to his car.

  “You can come out from wherever you are, Anderson,” Aspen calls out when douchebag turns on his engine. “I know you’re there.”

  “How?”

  “What’s going on, Hawk?”

  That name slips out of her lips, it’s like a siren call. I want her to scream it while I fuck her hard. I stop in front of her, my boots touching her colorful, flat shoes. Did he touch you? I stare at her lips, recalling our kiss and smile.

  “Hmm.” She bites her bottom lip. “I just noticed that you have a fake smile.”

  Her hand lifts, caressing my jaw. “Do you want to come inside to watch a movie with Brynn and me?”

  “Not tonight.” I stop her hand, pressing it to my lips, trailing kisses along it and stopping at the inside of her wrist. “Mom and I are watching a series. I came downstairs to check on you.”

  She purses her lips. Her eyes smiling. “For years, I’ve been able to come and go from home without any issue. You don’t have to check on me.”

  “So, why was the douche here?” I use a casual voice, and serve her a smirk, poorly masking the grinding of my teeth. I don’t mention how much I loathed these couple of hours while I thought of another man touching and kissing her.

  “Douche?” She raises an eyebrow critically, shaking her head and chuckling. “Heath, that’s his name. And he’s nice. I don’t owe you an explanation of why he was here.”

  I nod, pressing my lips together, reserving any nasty or angry words toward the fucker for my next mission.

  “He’s now a good friend, and he might stay in my life—as friends,” she adds, smiling at me while dropping a warning, and the greatest fucking news. A fucking grin tugs on my lips. “See you tomorrow morning.”

  I bend, my lips touching her ear, my hands resting on lower back. Pressing her closer to me, I tell her, “Sweet dreams, Aspen.”

  My lips trace her jaw and meet her lips. It’s a chaste kiss, one that friends can have. “I’m going to miss you tonight.”

  Resting my forehead on hers, I close my eyes. I can’t bring myself to move. The pull between us intensifies each time we see each other. At least the pull she has on me.

  “Goodnight, Hawk.” She sighs, pivoting and opening the front door. She closes it behind her, and I feel like she has taken a part of me with her.

  After a two-hour flight, we arrive in San Jose. Mom and Aspen chatted all the way from the house to the hotel about work, books, knitting, and family. About her parents and how her dad died a few years ago. They talked about her brother, Austin, who’s a counselor and a human resources administrator. Once we check into the hotel, I drive us to the clinic which is only a few miles away.

  Dr. Vadapalli receives Mom immediately. He reviews her medical history, going through the paperwork her current doctor sent and explaining his views. Not everyone is eligible for his treatment, he’ll run a series of tests for the next few days. Once he has enough information, he’ll discuss the results and a probable plan of action. He hands over a folder with Mom’s schedule if we decide to proceed.

  Opening the folder, I see that starting the second day there’s a big note. DEPENDING ON RESULTS.

  “Any questions?”

  “What does ‘depending on results’ mean?” I turn around the paper and point to the uppercase words.

  He taps his pen on the desk, looking at me. “The tests we run are a sequence. Depending on the data we receive, we either need more information to take the next step, or we can determine the plan of action. It might take a day or it could take the full five days to determine if she qualifies.”

  “What disqualifies a candidate?” Aspen jumps in.

  “Our exclusion criteria is extensive,” he responds. “And so are our exceptions to those exclusions. Naming all of them would be unfair because Ms. Hawkins might fall into one or several, bu
t that doesn’t mean she won’t be eligible.”

  Aspen nods. I’ll have to ask her to explain this to me, because it sounds like a bunch of bullshit. “Do you have statistics on your meta survivors?” she continues.

  “Meta survivors?” I turn my attention toward her, my brows arching. What is she talking about?

  “I’ve researched about Meta survivors,” she explains me. “Those who transition from a terminal illness to a manageable situation where they can live so much longer.”

  She turns then to the doctor. “What are your statistics?”

  “Every patient is different from the other, I don’t create statistics,” the doctor counteracts. “I create treatments.”

  The doctor looks at Mom. “Ms. Hawkins, I can only promise to do what’s best for you. If it’s in my hands to treat you, we’ll create a plan to either eradicate the cancer or expand your life expectancy for as long as we can do so.”

  Mom clutches her purse and nods. “I think it’s fair to give this a try.” She turns toward me. “In the event that my treatment isn’t able to eradicate the cancer from my body, I won’t continue, Anderson.”

  “Mom?”

  “Do we have an understanding?” She looks around the room.

  The doctor nods. “Let’s not make decisions based on our first meeting. Why don’t we head to my lab and start our procedure?”

  Aspen holds Mom’s hand with hers. “Would you like me to join you?”

  She shakes her head. “I’d prefer if you stay with him, sweetheart. He doesn’t want to let me go.”

  “We are fighting, Sophia.” Aspen kisses her cheek. “You can’t give up.”

  “It’s not giving up, dear.” Mom stands up. “This is giving myself a chance to feel alive during my last days. Life doesn’t have to be long; it has to be well lived.”

  13

  Anderson

  Mom once told me that the biggest tragedy in life is to lose time focusing on the negative. The biggest loss is not following your dreams while living in the past. Not death. Death is only the next step in the circle of life. Sophia Hawkins savors every moment, appreciating the fact that every day is precious. That each moment could be the last. Death isn’t a tragedy. Losing your mother to cancer isn’t a big loss. Simply put it, it’s life—according to Mom.

  It’s a big fucking deal. I’m losing my only family.

  “Accept my future,” she insists as I drive her from the oncologist to our hotel. Dr. Vadapalli’s plan of treatment didn’t satisfy Mom’s expectations.

  “The cancer is too advanced,” he said. “Once it takes over the bones and organs it’s almost impossible to eradicate it.”

  One fucking day and he already had a plan. He can promise to extend her life by about six more months, maybe a year. My world collapsed when he said that without it, she only has a couple of months left. His words stabbed me in the back. This was our last hope. Dread crept over me, numbing my brain. My stomach is full of rocks.

  “I should live my last days the same way I’ve lived my life: fully with no regrets,” she continues. “That’s what you should do, Anderson. Laugh more often, live without fear, love with all your heart.”

  With my line of work, I can attest to being fearless. I don’t experience fear during my missions. This one life I have is disposable. Like her, I’m aware that I can die during a mission or in a simple car accident. Getting over losing my mother, the only family I have left, isn’t as easy. Pancreatic cancer is killing her slowly. She lost her appetite and weight, and never complained about those stomach aches she had. She never mentioned her symptoms until the doctor told her she had cancer. The medical explanation made no sense to me—she had to start treatment immediately, and they didn’t give us a good prognosis. Fucking cancer ate through her organs faster than we could fight them.

  “Enough is enough. I want to live, Anderson. Enjoy whatever time I have left happy, and not in between appointments. I can’t waste my time in pain after they poke me with needles and poison me with chemo.”

  I park in front of the valet, they open the door for my mother and help her down. Closing my eyes, I toss my head against the back of the seat. I hear a buckle click; a hand squeezes my shoulder.

  “Hawk,” Aspen whispers. “We’ll make sure her last days are the best of her life. I’m here for you guys.”

  Angling my head, I open my eyes and kiss her fingers. “Thank you, Aspen.”

  We climb down from the rental, joining Mom who’s already heading toward the elevator. The silence inside the elevator is deafening. I don’t have words to express the heaviness inside my heart. No matter what we do, how many specialists we visit, I have maybe a year with her.

  “Unacceptable,” I bark. “You and Dad taught me to fight.”

  “There’re many ways to fight, Anderson.” She uses a calm voice, taking my hand and holding it between hers. “Quality over quantity. Spending money while visiting my sister is more fun than visiting a string of doctors who will tell us what we already know.”

  She swallows. “I’m leaving soon.”

  The elevator stops, opening on our floor. “Some get off the ride sooner than others, Anderson. You risked your life for years. I accepted your profession, praying every night that you would come back home.” We step out of the elevator. She pats my cheek.

  “Stop struggling with my decision. I worry about leaving you alone. Still, I trust you’ll find happiness.” Mom tilts her head toward Aspen who’s walking with her chin down and slumped shoulders. “This doesn’t mean that you have to stop working. The importance of your missions and the people you save are greater than waiting by my side for my last day.”

  “I’ll give you guys some space.” Aspen continues next door, leaving Mom and me behind.

  “Mom, you can’t possibly ask me to—”

  “No, I’m ordering you to continue with your normal routine. Once we arrive home, I’m planning a trip to visit Dorothy, maybe we can go to London. I’ve never been there.” She stops in front of her door. My eyes sting, my heart squeezes. This can’t possibly be happening. We traveled to San Jose, searching for the cure, the answer to my prayers. Not the nail to her coffin. “I’m going to rest. The idea of going to visit the Golden Gate is magnificent, wake me up when you want to take us.”

  “Anderson, you’re a good man, a great son, and a hard worker. But if you want me to leave in peace, you have to show me that you’re living.”

  “Mom, I love you.” I kiss the back of her hand. “I’m going to miss you. These past months we’ve spent together are the best and hardest of my life. You trying to fix me makes it agonizing. There’s nothing to fix. I have a job and a home, plenty of friends and you.”

  “I just want to see you happy, in love: sharing your life with someone, and having a family.” Happy and in love? Looking toward the door where Aspen disappeared behind, I ponder about her and my feelings toward her.

  Is this where we’re heading?

  Waving my hand dissmisively, I give Mom the most practical response I can come up with. “I’m content, and sometimes that’s enough, Mom.” I continue lying, swallowing the tears cloging my throat and kissing the top of her head. Thirty-eight years have taught me how to behave and answer to Mom. She wants to make sure I’m perfectly fine with her choice. “I’ll be in my room working, if you need me.”

  As she enters her room, my stomach falls to the floor as my soul shatters. Mom, don’t leave me. My skin itches. I want to jump out of the building through a closed the window. Any physical pain won’t compare to this heartache. The walls are closing in on me, I have to escape from the building. I search for the exit, running down the stairs, through the lobby, and rushing through the parking lot with no direction—only one goal, burn the emotions and not go back until I accept Mom’s wishes. I’m leaving someone else behind, another person I can’t save.

  Exhaling and inhaling, I continue running. My heart rate’s up. My eyes focus on the path, and my brain’s focused on thos
e whiskey eyes with the golden flecks. I allow Aspen to stay with me. Her scent, her silky voice and her sweet lips intoxicate me. The anger ceases, the sadness settles, and my soul begs for comfort. My speed increases as I change directions. I learned to work with a team years ago, understanding that without a plan, the possibility of success decreases. Improvising, I slow down stopping at the first convenience store I find on my way back to the hotel.

  I buy a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. You can only beat the vice for so long. Pulling my phone out, I call my therapist. The man who listens to me after every mission. He keeps my sanity in check after I coming home from a long period away; when I no longer have to pretend to be another person to infiltrate enemy lines.

  “This better be important. Do you know how dangerous it is to leave my grandchildren with only one adult supervising for more than five minutes?” my therapist asks.

  “Heard a few rumors.” I chuckle. My boss is his son-in-law, and has shared a few anecdotes about his son and cousins. They are always up to no good. “Want me to call later?”

  “No, you’re down in San Jose with your mother. I get the feeling that things are getting harder. I’ll take this as a friendly call, not a professional one. How is she doing?”

  “Still strong. We visited the doctor and...” I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling the frustration clogged inside my lungs. I brief him on the details of today’s visit and Mom’s reaction while I get through two cigarettes.

  “Sounds like she’s ready to leave on the next train, but enjoying the waiting room. Smart woman.” He isn’t helping with that comment. “As a friend and a man who understands that train of thought, I recommend you support her. Be by her side while she continues this journey.”