Love Undecided

by Denise Wells

  “Holy shit, no way,” she says, looking around. “Why? Who put it there? Are they watching us.”

  “Uh, my creepy stalker and possibly.”

  “And you wait until now to bring this up?” she asks. “We’ve been sitting out her all morning.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  “How the hell do you forget about a hidden camera?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Chemo brain.”

  “You’re not in chemo right now. Jeez, Kat. Where is it?” she asks, looking around some more.

  “Quit looking around! We can’t let the creepy stalker know that we know the camera is there or we won’t catch them.”

  “Well, sorry! But I think that is all kinds of weird and I do not want to sit out here knowing that someone might be watching us.” She stands and walks inside.

  I follow her inside. “I’m sorry, Rem. To tell you the truth, I’m kind of used to it now.”

  “How can you possibly be used to a hidden camera on your balcony?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her. “In some ways it makes me feel like I’m not alone. I like to talk to it.”

  “What do you mean you talk to it? About what? Should I be worried?“

  “I don’t know. Nothing. Everything. It’s not like he can hear me. The camera doesn’t have audio. And, there’s supposed to be a little red light that flicks on whenever he activates the camera to watch me. But I haven’t seen it yet. Not that I’ve looked too hard. For all I know, I’ve never even been watched.”

  “That’s just weird. And a little sad. How did you find it?”

  “I didn’t, Brad found it.”

  “When was Brad here?”

  “The other night—“

  “My God, you tell me nothing!”

  “It was just because they thought I had an intruder—”

  “An intruder? What in the actual fuck, Kat? Are you okay? Was anything taken?”

  “I’m fine, it was a misunderstanding. But I had a whole slew of them here: Brad, Ethan, Bauer, and two other cops.”

  “Kat! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had an intruder!”

  “It wasn’t really an intruder.” I go on to explain to her what happened that day with Brad seeing someone and Detective Sherman screwing up the dispatch call.

  She shivers. “I think the whole thing is just weird and really unsettling. Anything else major happen in your life that you haven’t shared with me?”

  “Well, you know I’m supposed to have lunch with Brad today, right?”

  “Jeez Kat! You really don’t fucking tell me anything anymore! You said you were thinking of inviting him, not that you are actually going.”

  “It’s the lunch where I tell him we are never, ever getting back together.”

  “I’m sorry, were you not the other person in the conversation about two minutes ago? The same person who wallowed over this guy all night long. Take my word for it, this will not be the lunch where you sever all ties and break it off completely. I guarantee it.”

  I stick my tongue out at her in response.

  Chapter 36

  Kat

  I go through my closet again, but nothing in there is calling my name. The thirteen plus outfits scattered around my room don’t seem to be doing it for me either.

  Not that I should care, this lunch isn’t to impress Brad, it’s to cut him off completely. We can’t be together. And it doesn’t matter how bad either of us may want to be.

  Not that I want to be.

  No matter what Remi says. Or how many pictures of Brad I still have hidden in my house.

  He needs to let go. We’re through.

  We’ve been through since the first time I found out I was dying. And the fact that I’m actually still alive changes nothing.

  Because I will die.

  In the next few years, if not sooner.

  And there’s nothing that either of us can do to stop it.

  I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and spin three times pointing my finger as I go. My go-to for deciding on an outfit when I can’t otherwise make up my mind.

  I take my time dressing: slim fit boyfriend jeans, my bad-ass cowgirl rodeo belt, beige ankle boots, and a slouchy, low cut white tee tucked in just enough to look unintentional. I let my hair dry naturally so it has just a little wave to it and apply minimal makeup and lip gloss. I spritz a little of his favorite perfume on as my final touch, though I’m just not sure if that’s to purposefully be a bitch or not. Grabbing my purse, I take a deep, cleansing breath, put on my sunglasses, and head out the door.

  Since lunch is my idea, I’m not sure what he thinks will come of it. But I know what I have to do and I’m not remotely prepared. Even though I know it’s best for both of us.

  I get to the restaurant early so I can get my bearings and prepare myself emotionally for this talk. It’s a casual seafood place right on the water, and I managed to get us a table outside on the patio. Great view, pelicans circling, a soft breeze with the light ocean aroma. It would be romantic if it weren’t so tragic, if I didn’t still have feelings.

  When I see him walking up I realize, too late, that said preparations should have been literal as well. As in a tequila shot. Or twelve.

  My breath catches.

  Somehow in the last twenty-four hours, I’ve forgotten just how beautiful he is. Or maybe it’s because my reason for seeing him today is personal and intentional, not by accident or in passing.

  He looks good, as in really good.

  His dark blonde hair tousled, probably from running his hands through it too many times. And even though his tortoiseshell sunglasses hide his eyes, I know they are shining bright and blue behind them. The rest of his outfit just makes him look like sex on steroids: low riding jeans that are snug in all the right places, a tight white tee-shirt that shows off his pecs and arms, and black Chucks.

  I asked him to meet me at a newer restaurant that we’d not been to as a couple just so there wouldn’t be any competing memories to mess with our heads.

  Or maybe just my head.

  In case I haven’t mentioned it twenty-seven million times before, as far as I’m concerned Brad is perfect. He is everything that a woman could ask for in a man. He’s attentive, complimentary, stable, protective, generous, emotionally available, loyal, positive, funny, and seriously good looking.

  So why this conversation?

  Why am I making sure he breaks all ties and stays away?

  Now that he’s here, I have to wonder if it’s really for him or if it’s for me.

  Is it because I’m so afraid of hurting him if something happens to me? Or am I more afraid of hurting me if it doesn’t last? If I’m afraid of hurting him, what’s the worst that will happen? The cancer comes back, which we already know it will, and I die, which we already know I will.

  So I die, that hurts him, but what do I care? I’m dead. And if he hurts me, well shit happens, right? Nothing can ever be good all the time. If having a terminal illness has taught me nothing else, it’s definitely taught me that. All goodness comes to an end. And most times that end is heinous. I mean, whenever you get too used to goodness, it turns bad. Everybody knows that.

  Well everybody, apparently, but Brad.

  Because nothing bad ever happens to Brad, at least not until me.

  I’m Brad’s bad.

  Chapter 37

  Brad

  I almost didn’t agree to meet Kat for lunch. I mean, I’m not sure what her game is right now, but I know she’s seeing that guy. Maybe that’s why she wants to meet so she can tell me in person. I don’t need to fucking hear that shit in person. Not that it matters anyway. That guy won’t be around for long if I have anything to do with it.

  I see her at a table outside, she looks beautiful, as always. She stands when I get to the table and moves to hug me. I love the feeling of her in my arms and have a hard time letting her go when she moves away to sit down.

  “Hey,” I say as I sit acr
oss from her.

  “Hey,” she says. Her voice cracks as though she’s crying or about to cry. I reach across the table and cover her hand with mine, running my fingers lightly across the back of it. Her skin is so soft.

  “How are you?” I ask.

  “I’m doing well,” she says. “You know, the usual, trying to catch the bad guys, finding creepy stalker cameras on my balcony, drinking too much wine at movie night.”

  She takes her hand away from mine and moves it back to her lap. I immediately feel the loss of her touch.

  “Are you resting? Taking care of yourself?” I ask.

  “I am, thank you for checking… and for caring.”

  “Always. Speaking of the camera, anything more come from that?” I ask. I’m still freaked out by the whole thing, that someone is watching her, has been for days, maybe weeks, and no one has been able to catch him or do anything. I should be there with her, protecting her.

  “Nothing yet,” she says. “But we think we are close. The computer police are working on trying to trace it now using the things that make the cameras go.”

  “Is that tech speak? Things that make the cameras go?” I tease.

  “It is.”

  I can tell I’ve embarrassed her by the way she looks away from me. She’s not the best when it comes to technology and can be a little self-conscious about it. But she’s so fucking cute when she’s embarrassed that I can’t help but tease.

  Besides, I’m just biding my time until I work up the nerve to ask her what I really want to know. Which is, what the fuck is going on with that guy she’s working with.

  Bauer.

  How can she be with him? I don’t see it. He’s a fucking douche.

  I look around and catch the eye of a lady at the next table. She looks me up and down appreciatively, giving me that look that says I could have her for the afternoon if I’d like. I look away quickly.

  I’ve got enough going on between Kat and trying to break up with Stacy. I sure as hell don’t need to complicate things now.

  Then, out of the blue, Kat asks, “How’s Stacy?”

  “She’s doing well.”

  “And, the two of you are doing well?”

  “Are we doing this again Kat? If so, why?” I ask.

  She says nothing.

  “She’s not you,” I say. “But I guess we’re okay, considering.”

  “Considering?”

  “Oh, come on.” I can’t believe she’s doing this. Asking me this. It pisses me off. “This is really how we’re going to play this?”

  She just looks at me, her face blank.

  “You know I care about her,” I say. “She’s a sweet girl. How’s the guy?” If she’s gonna fucking ask me about Stacy, then I’m going to ask her about the dick-wad she’s seeing.

  “The guy?” she asks, trying to look confused. But I see right through her facade.

  “Bauer.”

  “Uh, fine, I guess,” she says. “Working hard and all that stuff.”

  Okay, clearly she’s going to make me dig for information.

  “And the two of you?” I ask.

  “The two of us?”

  What, is she just going to repeat everything I ask so she can avoid answering?

  “Are you just repeating everything I ask you?” I ask her.

  “No,” she says. “I just don’t understand why you are asking me about this?”

  How can she not understand? She’s seeing someone else, someone she used to see in college. And apparently she’s happy. Maybe even in love. And I know that if I were a better person I would just be happy for her and let it be.

  But I’m not a better person.

  I’m a selfish person.

  And I want her for me.

  And the fact that she’s with someone else pisses me off more than I can explain.

  “This is how we are playing it, right? You ask about Stacy, I ask about Bauer.”

  “Okay… ” she says.

  I don’t know why she sounds confused. She started this.

  “So, the two of you are well?” I ask her. “You’re happy?”

  “Sure,” she says. Then she shrugs her shoulders like it doesn’t matter. “I mean, he’s smart and thorough. And he knows what he’s doing, which is nice.”

  What’s that supposed to mean? Knows what he’s doing with what? I narrow my eyes at her, though I know she can’t see my eyes through my sunglasses. Apparently, I have to be more specific with my questions.

  “Are you happy with him?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says. “I’m happy. Some of the guys in the past have been real idiots, you know that.”

  What the fuck? Does she mean me?

  I raise my sunglasses so she can see my eyes. Her face softens as she looks at me.

  Fuck it. Go big or go home.

  “Kat, I don’t want it to be like this. Fuck. You know that I’m still in love with you. I’m just hoping you’ll eventually realize you’re still in love with me too. I mean, let’s be real, he’s never going to be as good for you as I am,” I say.

  “Why would—” she starts to say something, but I’m not going to let her interrupt me.

  “Let me finish,” I say. “No one is going to be as good for you as I am. You don’t belong with him. The same way I don’t belong with Stacy.”

  “But, I’m not—”

  “In fact,” I continue. “My plan was to break it off with Stacy, after movie night, but I got paged in. It was stupid of me to invite her anyway. I mean, shit, the only reason why I even went to the movie was to see you. I knew you would be there and I miss you. Every day, Kat, every fucking day I think about you and I miss you. I’m breaking it off for good tonight with Stacy. Then, I am going back to a full pursuit of you with nothing on my conscience. Fuck that guy.”

  I sit back, satisfied with what I’ve said so far. I follow Kat’s glance to the next table, one of the ladies blows me a kiss. I turn away, disgusted. Kat is trying hard not to laugh. I should find it funny, but the whole thing makes me even angrier.

  “Tomorrow you’d better be ready for me,” I say. “Because I am not giving up this time, Kat. There will be no walking away. No broken engagements. No trips to jail.”

  “That’s exactly why I wanted us to have lunch,” she says.

  Well, good. Maybe we are on the same page after all. I breathe a sigh of relief and relax into my chair, waiting for what she’ll say next.

  “You need to let me go,” she says.

  Okay, that’s not what I was expecting her to say next.

  Not at all.

  Chapter 38

  Kat

  I realize I’d better get this over real quick-like. I hurry through what I have to say before he can misinterpret or interrupt.

  “You need to let me go. Even if you aren’t with Stacy, we won’t work. I can’t be with you. Even if your mom hadn’t died from the same fucking disease that I have, I can’t be with anyone who has seen me the way that you have.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asks.

  “The bulk of our relationship was me with cancer. And we both know I never would have survived that first go-around without you. But then it came back, not once, but now twice. And it’s going to keep coming back. It is never going to go completely away. And if my last two go-arounds are any indication, it’s just going to get worse each time it comes back.”

  I pause to take a breath.

  “I can’t ask you to be a part of that. I can’t ask you to commit yourself to a life of caretaking and hoping for miracles. To living in constant anticipation of when it will resurface and how. Living in fear, always seeing me as a victim, a helpless, weakened victim with one foot in the grave, living life to the halfway point instead of to the fullest. That is no way to live and it is especially no way for you to live.”

  I gulp the remainder of my wine, signaling the waitress for another, fully prepared to keep drinking until I have to pour myself into an Uber.

  “You ar
e perfect and incredible, everything a woman wants in a partner. You have so much to offer - you are vibrant and funny, loyal and loving, giving and generous, and just totally fucking all around wonderful. You deserve for a woman to be able to give all of that back to you. You deserve someone who gives as much as she takes.

  “And that’s all I can do for you is take. And soon you’ll resent me for it, and then we’ll either have an ugly and bitter breakup, or you’ll stay with me because I have cancer and you’ll hate me for it. And then I’ll hate you for hating me and staying, and then we’ll both be bitter only without the breakup. And it will destroy you.

  “And then it will destroy me. And I can’t have that. I can’t be the one that destroys you. Not again. You’re beautiful and you don’t deserve that. And I don’t deserve you.”

  That’s when I feel the tears start to stream down my face. I look away from him toward the water, hoping the ocean breeze will blow them dry before he has a chance to see them.

  “Are you through?” he asks.

  When I glance back at him, I can tell he’s angry. Furious really. Like he’s vibrating with it. I’ve never seen him like this, face set like stone, eyes hard, tone cold.

  “Um, yeah?” I answer him like it’s a question. I hate it when women speak with an up-tone. I hate it even more when I speak like that. I clear my throat and try again.

  “Yes,” I say with more finality.

  Chapter 39

  Brad

  I take a deep breath to try and rein my anger in.

  It doesn’t help.

  “First.” I lean over the table toward her to make sure she hears every word I say.

  Clearly and accurately.

  “YOU don’t fucking tell ME what I do and don’t deserve. You don’t tell me what I need in a relationship.

  “Second, I’m a grown fucking man, capable of making my own decisions. You don’t get to decide anything like this for me.

  “Third, you can barely figure your own shit out for yourself, so don’t ever presume to think that you even fucking come close to knowing what is best for me. For fuck’s sake, Kat!