Halfway through the service, Billy starts crying and nothing settles him. Mom offers to take him outside, but I physically can’t part with him, so I leave myself. Slater goes with me, and I’m grateful for his hand on my shoulder as we walk back up the aisle. Every person we pass is a blubbering mess. Even grown men cry as they watch me trying to soothe my son during his father’s funeral.
I cling to Slater and Billy at the graveside, ignoring the funny looks sent my way. They can judge all they like. I don’t care. I can’t watch as they lower Dylan’s casket into the ground. While my eye ducts remain tear free, the same can’t be said for the messy organ in my chest. My heart has ruptured. It’s ripped into a million jagged pieces, weeping inside the ribcage it’s hiding behind.
It’s even worse back at Heather’s. People accost me on all sides, offering condolences, tearing up as they smile at Billy, telling me how much he looks like his daddy. Slater doesn’t leave my side, but that’s in part due to the fact I won’t let him. I’m terrified to be left alone. I can’t deal with my own emotions, so how the hell am I expected to deal with everyone else’s?
“Here,” Ryan says, approaching with two glasses. “You both look like you could use a stiff drink.”
Slater takes the tumbler of whiskey, but I shake my head. “I drank my fill of vodka last night, and I’m not touching another drop of alcohol. I neglected my son this morning, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Tornado. No one blames you for having a much-needed drink or taking some time for yourself. You only gave birth a few days ago and you’ve had no time to rest.”
“I’m okay.”
“No, little sis, you’re not.” He folds me into his arms, resting his cheek on my hair. “But you will be.”
The next month passes by in a blur. I throw myself into motherhood, trying to deflect the myriad of emotions plaguing me in the aftermath of Dylan’s death, but it’s not easy.
I attend the reading of Dylan’s will at his attorney’s office with Heather and my family. I guess I no longer have to wonder what he was doing all those nights he squirrelled himself away in his room, claiming he needed some alone time.
I walk out of his attorney’s office in a shocked daze. Dad circles his arm around my back. “You hanging in there, Buttercup?”
“Barely,” I truthfully admit. “How the hell did Dylan manage to do all that behind my back while he was battling such a terrible disease?”
Dylan bought Billy and me a house. He also established a trust fund for his son and left me more money than I know what to do with. He made a considerable donation to a local cancer charity and established a company with his friends—the ones he was working on his hush-hush robotics project with. He’s patented everything and set it up so both me and Billy have a twenty percent shareholding in the company.
Chase was at the meeting, at Dylan’s request, and he explained everything, outlining their ambitious plans. With a top investor already onboard, it’s looking like Dylan has helped his friends build a company with enormous potential, leaving a legacy and a potential future role for his son.
He also ensured Heather is well provided for, and he left something for every member of my family. He even included Slater in his will.
“Dylan was always a planner. I’m not shocked he went to such lengths to ensure his family is provided for. And that man loved you with his whole heart, Buttercup. I knew he wouldn’t let you down.”
I cling to the box I’m carrying. “And then he did all this too. And without me even suspecting. He’s still managing to surprise me.” I briefly inspected the contents in David’s office before we left, and I’m still in shock. There are two bundles of cards in the box. One set is for Billy. The other is addressed to me. Dylan has written birthday cards for every significant milestone in both our lives. There are also five photo albums chronicling our relationship with tons of handwritten notes accompanying the pics. Now I understand why we spent so many nights reminiscing over the past. While Dylan’s memory was sketchy thanks to the fucking cancer, mine was intact, and I loved reminding him of some of our best stories.
Dylan didn’t just want to ensure his son knew who he was, he wanted him to know how epic our romance was, so our son understood he was born from a very special kind of love. I only glanced at the first few pages of one of the albums before I had to put it aside. The pain was instantaneous and intense.
As I place the box in the corner of my room, I know it will torment me every time I look at it. However, I know there are some challenges I’m not strong enough to face yet.
Chapter Forty-Five
Another month passes, and nothing much has changed, except I’m now fitting into all my old clothes and Billy’s eyes are a lighter blue, mirroring mine. He’s also giving everyone these massive, cute smiles, and while I didn’t think it was possible to love him any more than I already do, every day he proves me wrong. He’s getting bigger, and his progress is on point according to his most recent developmental check.
“Please, Belle,” Slater begs me over the phone. “You wouldn’t come out to celebrate with the guys so please do this one thing for me. It’s only dinner, and it’ll do you good to get out of the house.”
“I get out of the house every day, Slate. I take Billy on long walks, and we visit the park and regularly go swimming. He has playdates with his cousin Ryder, and I’m constantly around at Mom’s. I’ve even joined a local mom and baby group.” I pack my days with activity, investing all my energy in my child.
Mom tried to talk to me about it.
She knows what I’m doing.
That I’m filling every second in the hope it’ll distract me from the gaping hole in my heart. That I’m tiring myself out so that when I pop one of my sleeping pills at night I won’t have any nightmares or remember that Dylan is no longer here. She wants me to speak to a grief counselor, but, so far, I’m resisting. I’m not ready to deal with all my confusing emotions, and I’m happy to spend my days with my son, pouring all my energy and effort into being the best mom I can.
So, it’s ironic that Slate is calling me out on that.
“You’re an amazing mother, Belle. Don’t think I’m criticizing. I’m so proud of you for prioritizing his needs and not letting the pain distract you from caring for your son. But you need to prioritize yourself too. You’ve tons of babysitters and all I’m asking for is one night. One dinner between two old friends. Don’t you want to help me celebrate my graduation?”
“You’re guilting me into this?”
“If that’s what it’ll take, then hell yeah.”
I sigh down the phone. “Ugh. You don’t play fair, but okay. Fine, I’ll let you take me to dinner.”
“Wow, try to curb your enthusiasm, will ya?”
“What do you expect when you’re virtually blackmailing me into going out with you.”
“Ouch. Way to kick a guy when he’s down.”
I’m being unfair. I know that. Slate has demonstrated the patience of a saint these past couple months. His unflappable devotion to me and Billy hasn’t gone unnoticed, but I can’t give him what I suspect he wants. He hasn’t broached the subject with me, but I see the way he looks at me, the way he looks at Billy, and I know, if I asked him, he’d move heaven and earth to be a family with us.
But I can’t get over the sense of betrayal I feel whenever I’m around Slater and he stokes my desire into orbit. It’s why I’ve been trying to push him away recently. Making excuses and avoiding him whenever I can.
And he deserves to find someone without baggage. Someone who can love him unconditionally. Someone who isn’t a broken mess on the inside.
Slater has just graduated top of his class, and he has a tempting offer from one of the best engineering companies in the country. His star is rising, and no one deserves it more than he does, but I sense his hesita
tion. He doesn’t want to leave me and Billy behind. He hasn’t voiced that sentiment, but Ryan has dropped enough hints for me to draw my own conclusion.
Slate has just been offered his dream job, and there is no way I’m letting him pass the opportunity up because of me.
“Now, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Slate asks, grinning at me over the table.
I tap a finger off my chin, pretending to consider it. “I’d give the restaurant ten out of ten, the company a six.”
“Ouch. You sure know how to wound a guy’s ego.” He cuts a piece of his steak slowly and precisely. “Except I know you, and you’re full of crap.”
I bark out a laugh. “Wow, I think this job offer has really gone to your head. You’re definitely giving Ryan a run for his money in the arrogance stakes.”
He holds his fork out to me. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult me and let you try this because it’s out of this world.”
I open my mouth and let him feed me even though it makes me hugely uncomfortable. A loud moan escapes my mouth as the juicy flavors burst on my tongue. “Damn, that’s good.”
Slate gulps, shifting on his chair, and his eyes turn heated. “I’ve been assured they have awesome steakhouses in Iowa too.”
“You’ll be all set.”
He places his knife and fork down, piercing me with a serious look. “Come with me, Belle. I want you and Billy by my side.”
Acid churns in my gut, and I swallow over the monster-sized ball lodged in my throat. “Slate, we’re not even together. It wouldn’t be right.”
He leans his elbows on the table, and the movement stretches his shirt tight across his impressive biceps, and I can’t help a momentary drool. It’s arm porn at it’s very best, and I’d challenge any female with a pulse not to stare. He notices my attention, and his lips curve up. “You only have to say the word, and we can rectify that. You know I still love you.”
“Stop,” I whisper, looking down at the table. “You know I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” His inquiring tone is gentle.
“Both.” I risk a glance at him, and I can see him carefully choosing his next words.
“This is only going to add weight to your arrogance theory, but I know you still love me, Belle. I know you want me as much as I want you.” He wets his lips, reaching his hand across the table for mine. Warmth filters up my arm from his touch. “I also know you aren’t ready to confront that fact, and I completely get it. You loved Dylan too, and I understand you’re suffering, so I would never force this on you.”
“So, then you know why I can’t move to Iowa with you.”
“I’m not putting any labels on it, Belle. I love you and I love Billy, and I want you both with me, so I can take care of you.”
“It’s not your responsibility to take care of us, and I don’t know what was said between you and Dylan, but you don’t owe me or him anything.”
“You think this is a burden?” His tone is a little harsher. “Or that I’m saying this purely because of some promise I made to Dylan?” His eyes blaze. “I’m asking you this because I love you! Both of you, and I can’t bear the thought of being hundreds of miles away from you.” He pulls his hand back, rubbing his tense jaw. “I just want to be with you, Belle. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Slate. I can’t give you what you want. What you need.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
“I promise I’ll be patient. I won’t force you into anything until you’re ready to take that step. Just, don’t give up on us. I know we can be so good together. I know we can be a family.”
“You’ve your whole life ahead of you, and I can’t hold you back.”
“If you come with me, you won’t be.”
“Are you sure about that? Have you properly thought this through? You’ll be in a new city, at a new job, making new friends and contacts, and the last thing you’ll need is to be saddled with a woman who isn’t even your girlfriend and someone else’s kid. We’ll only tie you down, and you’ll end up resenting us.”
If I’d slapped him, he wouldn’t look as hurt.
“I can’t believe you’ve just said that. Is that really what you think of me? You think I’d rather be going out every night, getting wasted and fucking random girls, than coming home to you and Billy?”
“I don’t think it’d start out like that. I think you mean well, but, in time, it would all feel like a chore, an unnecessary burden. Especially when you’re getting nothing out of it. Because I can’t promise you a Goddamned thing, Slate. I’m broken. I’m devastated, and I still haven’t properly grieved. You’ll grow tired of waiting for me and jerking off instead of having sex. Eventually all the girls throwing themselves at you will start to look desirable. When I can’t give you what you want, and you get fed up of waiting, and you start screwing around, where would that leave me and my son? Billy is my sole priority, and I can’t take any risks. He’s too important to me.”
I know Slater would never do that. Not in a million years. And I hate lying to him, hate hurting him like this, but I won’t let him sacrifice his future for me.
“Wow. I never realized you had such a low opinion of me.” He clicks his fingers, gesturing at the waiter for the check. “I came here tonight to ask the woman I love to share my life. To tell her that no measure of time waiting will be too much. That I understand she’s mourning, and I, of all people, know what that’s like. That you can’t put a timetable on grief. I was going to tell her I’ll wait until she’s ready to ask her to marry me, because I know when she agrees it’ll be the happiest day of my life because I’ll not only be gaining a wife, I’ll be gaining a son too.”
The waiter places the check on the table and walks away. Slater withdraws some bills from his wallet, slamming them down on the table as he stands. “But I guess the joke’s on me, because you’ve already figured out who I am and what I want, and you’ve clearly already given up on us.”
Shame burns a new hole in my heart as I watch the agony spread across his face. I can only hope that, in the long-term, he’ll find it in his heart to forgive me. When he has this amazing life, and he meets some lucky woman, maybe he’ll realize I was right, and understand I pushed him away because I love him too much to ruin his future. I can’t give Slater my whole heart, my undivided attention, while I’m still mourning Dylan. The guilt and the hurt won’t let me. Slater deserves better than me. He may not know it, but I do. Slater deserves to be loved wholly and completely and a girl with half a heart can’t offer him that.
My cruel words worked, and, one week later, Slater moves to Iowa and out of our lives without any further contact.
That night, for the first night in almost ten weeks, I cry.
I sob my heart out, drenching the pillow with my tears.
I finally cry rivers for Dylan.
I grieve the loss that my son will carry with him throughout his entire life.
I mourn that beautiful, precious future I had all planned out as a kid.
And I shed tears for the only other man I’ve ever loved or am ever likely to. The one I pushed away in a misguided attempt to protect both our fragile hearts.
Chapter Forty-Six
Two Years Later
“I’ll see you next week, Gabby,” Cassandra says as we leave class together. “Oh, and don’t forget that podcast next Tuesday. I already registered your interest, and you should’ve received an email with a link to join the session.”
“Thanks, Cassie. You’re the best.” I grab her into a quick hug. “I think I owe you a drink or ten at this stage.”
“I’ll hold you to that next time we go out!”
We wave, heading in opposite directions. Cassie is off to meet her boyfriend for dinner, and I need to drop by the grocery store before going home. I’m glad I only have classes one night a week and that I can do the rest of my study on
line. I hate being away from Billy for any length of time, especially at night.
I drive the five blocks to the grocery store and race instead, eager to grab what I need and head home.
I’m standing in front of the cereal aisle, jumping up in a feeble attempt to reach the Cheerios on the top shelf when all the tiny hairs lift on the back of my neck.
I sense his presence before he speaks. “Need a hand, Belle?”
His deep voice sends shivers down my spine, and his citrusy scent conjures up a million happy memories of leisurely mornings and lazy afternoons wrapped around one another in bed. I promptly drop the four-pack of beans I’m holding on my foot, yelping as my face heats up. “Shit! Slate. You scared the hell out of me.”
He bends down to retrieve the cans, and I sneak a peek at him. His hair is longer on top but clipped neatly around his ears, and where it meets the nape of his neck, but it’s still as thick, dark, and silky as I remember. He’s wearing a blue dress shirt and charcoal-gray pants that mold to his shapely ass. He straightens up, and I flush an even deeper shade of red when he notices my staring. His lips twitch as he places the beans in my shopping cart, and I take a proper look at him.
He’s wearing his hair in a slicked-back style that is more mature and professional looking than the way he used to wear it in college. It only serves to highlight his gorgeous face. His skin is radiant and tanned, and he’s sporting a neatly trimmed layer of stubble on his chin and cheeks. His rich brown eyes glisten with health, and his mouth is pulled into a smile as he stares back at me. Gosh, he’s gotten even better looking over the last two years, or maybe that’s just my mind playing tricks, because, hella, Slater Evans is a damn fine sight for sore eyes.
His eyes latch on mine, and I forget to breathe. My heart dances a tango in my chest, and my pulse is beating wildly out of control. God, I’ve missed this man. So, so much. Not a day has passed since we parted when he hasn’t been in my thoughts and on my mind.
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