Best Worst Mistake

by Lia Riley

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. I don’t know what waits ahead. But I want to find out the next chapter while standing beside you.”

  Everything dissolved into slow, drawn-­out friction. They took their time as if the day couldn’t scare them, as if the past and future didn’t matter, drawing out their pleasure until they trembled, quaking as if they were joining on a fault line. Pressure rose within her and she knew that once it gave way, she would never be who she’d been. Nothing made sense and why did it have to?

  What if there were no mistakes, only events that serve as stepping-­stones to a never-­imagined place?

  What if there were no mistakes and her entire life had been leading to this moment?

  Every mistake had brought her here, to Wilder, to this dawn in his bed, two hearts beating to the same strong rhythm.

  THEY WERE HAVING breakfast, looking over the “1001 Books to Read before You Die” list. “You’re going to have to let me make some additions to this,” Quinn said, sighing as Wilder worked his hand over her sole. He insisted on giving her a foot rub while she drank her coffee and far be it from her to tell him no. It was eleven and she wasn’t sure when she’d ever slept in so late. Soon there would be calls to insurance companies, her property management company, and her mother. A visit to Dad. A call from the hospital. But not now. Not yet.

  Soon she’d need to handle so much that in this quiet late-­morning moment, when Wilder asked to handle her, it was enough. It was as close to perfect as life could get.

  Outside the world was white, pure, like the most perfect Christmas card with snowcapped peaks, and pines heavily laden.

  “Look, there.” She pointed. Three deer moved noiselessly past the window.

  “Move in with me,” he said, watching her instead.

  “What?” she squeaked, and the deer jumped, reacting to her yelp, even from within the cottage.

  “You don’t have a place to live and I like you in my bed.”

  “Um, that’s great and all, but what about me burning dinner? I’m serious; my failed superhero alter ego is Kitchen Disaster Girl. You will lose weight and I’ll miss all those big strong muscles.”

  “I’ll still want to kiss the cook and sneak a dirty peek under her cape.”

  “Or what about the fact that I leave wet towels on the bathroom floor? Or the fact I’ll totally nag when you leave the toilet seat up?”

  “Towels can be picked up and I never leave the toilet seat up.”

  “Even as a bachelor?”

  “Grandma Kane drilled that rule into us boys from the get-­go. I couldn’t leave a seat up if I tried.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “There’s nothing to joke about here. I want you, want this.” He tickled her foot. “My alter ego is Ornery Bastard, but he’s met his match.”

  “So no more hermit?”

  “When I turned my back on the world, I missed some pretty damn fine sights.”

  “Okay, Wilder Kane, then I need to ask you a question and I want the answer to be yes.”

  He pulled her little toe. “Sure, as long as it’s not a proposal.”

  She jerked. “That’s not what I was going to ask, but hang on. Are you saying you don’t want to make an honest woman out of me? Grandma Kane might have words to say on that subject.”

  “It means that I’m going to be asking you, but I want to do the asking. I’m old-­fashioned like that.”

  Uncontrollable heat coursed through her abdomen. He was seriously considering spending his life with her? “Are you going to expect me barefoot in the kitchen?”

  “No, unless you’re frying us up some pork chops and the rest of you is bare too.”

  She giggled. “We’ll see if that can be arranged.”

  “Because I’d have to hit it before we got to the meal.”

  She pointed at her frames. “Can’t hit a girl with glasses.”

  “Really? What if she looks really fucking sexy in glasses?”

  “I guess there’s an exception to every rule.” She cleared her throat. “Now let’s be serious.”

  “Okay.” His face lost its teasing humor.

  She nibbled the corner of her lower lip.

  “You look serious.”

  “I am. Wilder Kane, do you solemnly swear that you’ll read with me in bed, every night, through sickness and in health?”

  He gave a solemn nod. “I do.”

  They grinned at each other as her phone rang. She glanced down and the screen read, “Brightwater Hospital.”

  Chapter Twenty

  WILDER KEPT HIS hands shoved in his pockets in the recreation room in the Mountain View Village’s Alzheimer’s Unit. This wing could only be entered with a code. Quinn was informed that her test results were in and she was set to meet with a doctor in an hour. She’d asked to come here first to see her dad.

  Quinn hadn’t said much after the call, tried to put on a happy brave face, asking what he’d like for Christmas as they drove through the downtown. Every streetlight was adorned with a wreath, and in the square was a giant Christmas tree. The official lighting was set for tonight with the mayor doing the honors of hanging the traditional mistletoe. For the next few weeks, Brightwater ­couples would sneak under the bough and make out through the New Year.

  Tonight he could be there kissing her, or they might be back huddled in his cabin, facing an uncertain future.

  Quinn gripped her dad’s hand, staring blankly while he watched the DVD she’d brought over, Bill Murray’s Scrooged.

  “I’m going to grab you a cup of tea,” Wilder said. Each second on the clock was torture for her.

  Why hadn’t they just given her the results over the phone?

  Better to deliver bad news in person?

  He shook the fear away.

  “That would be great, thanks.” She gave him a quick glance that twisted his gut. He hated that she looked worried for him, as if measuring how much he could withstand.

  He limped down the hall, wishing for once he had his stick back. He could bear anything happening to himself, but for someone he loved to suffer? Who had that kind of strength?

  “Dig deep, man,” he answered, bracing a hand on the wall, wiping his brow.

  All the resident rooms had framed glass cases next to their doors. Inside were black and white photographs, war medals, figurines, and other family knickknacks. He paused and stared into one. The sepia-­toned picture was of an attractive blonde and a smiling man cutting a cake. They stared at the camera with beaming faces, as if their future had nothing but happiness waiting for them. The next photo was a posed family photograph in front of the Hoover Dam; three little girls in smock dresses who all looked exactly like the woman. The next picture was more recent, at the Brightwater football field, a young blonde woman standing between her mother and grandmother, clearly the woman from the other two images, Mount Oh-­Be-­Joyful rising behind them.

  A card said “Happy Birthday, #1 Grandma.”

  Whoever this woman was, she’d had a good life, family who loved her. As he stepped forward to keep walking, he glanced into the room. An older woman, clearly the woman from the pictures, sat in a recliner, staring out the window.

  He didn’t know why he did it, but his hand found its way to the door frame and he knocked.

  She glanced over. “Hello,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’d wondered if you’d come in.”

  Shit, she must have seen him lurking outside her room. He hoped he hadn’t scared her.

  “Sorry to intrude, ma’am, I just wanted to say . . .” What? He was sorry? He hoped she knew how much she was loved. That who she used to be must live on in many ­people’s memories. “I wanted to say you have a fine-­looking family.”

  She laughed then, an infectious sound that made her sound like a mischievous young girl. “Of
course we do, silly. But that’s because their daddy is a looker.” She winked before tipping back in her chair, rocking in a slow rhythmic pace. “Oh, Bill, we did have a good time, didn’t we?”

  His throat grew tight. She thought he was someone else. Bill. Her husband probably. Damn it, coming in here was a mistake. He didn’t know if this Bill was even still alive. Probably not.

  He glanced to the hallway. He could leave now and she wouldn’t know, would forget they ever spoke. Instead, he stepped closer and settled a hand on her thin, fragile shoulder. “We did indeed.”

  She nodded with satisfaction, gazing up at him, her eyes a mist of tears. “Life’s a beautiful thing.” She gave a little yawn before turning to look out the window again. “You always loved the snow, dear.”

  He stood silently as her rocking grew slower and her eyes fluttered closed, her chest rising and falling in the natural rhythm of sleep.

  For the next few minutes, even when it was clear she had dozed off, Wilder didn’t move, only continued to watch the snow falling outside, dusting the parking lot. He wasn’t able to form anything close to an articulate thought, only that if Quinn was to get the news she dreaded, he would do everything in his power to make sure that she always felt safe, cherished, and protected. The heat between them burned but he’d never let it go out. He didn’t care about anything else—­having kids, protecting his heart—­if it meant he couldn’t be with her.

  For once, he was proud of the man he was. “I mean to love her no matter what,” he murmured to himself, to his mother and father if they were listening. “In good times and bad.” Then he went to get the tea with the decision sinking into his heart.

  He knew what he had to do.

  WHAT WAS TAKING Wilder so long? He’d left to get tea fifteen minutes ago and hadn’t come back. They’d need to leave soon. She glanced over at Dad and he was staring at the screen. Was there a part of him, however locked away, that remembered watching this movie with her every year? This was Christmas to her. The smell of Dad’s bay rum soap, watching old movies. What she really loved best was hearing him laugh. He was normally reserved, but had the sort of laugh that vibrated through you until everything felt good, safe, protected.

  She hadn’t heard that laugh in a long time. She’d never hear that laugh again except in her memories. Reaching out, she took his hand and held it. “I miss you,” she whispered. “I miss you so much.”

  He glanced over and stared. Nothing registered on his features but his fingers gave a small reassuring squeeze.

  Take it as a good sign.

  Wilder came into the rec room and Quinn turned, the only person in the room who seemed to register that a new person was here.

  “Your tea,” he said, handing her a paper cup with the lid on.

  She took it between her hands, holding it up to take a sip. “Peppermint? Yum. Thank you. I’d wondered what happened to you.”

  He gave her a strange look. “I had to hunt down someone in the kitchen.”

  “To make the tea?” She frowned. “But didn’t you remember that there is a coffee and hot water station near the nurse’s desk?”

  “I know,” he said simply. “But that’s not what I needed to see the dietary department for.”

  “So what’s up?” she pushed. “You got hungry for a snack?” How could he think of eating? The very idea of putting food in a ten-­foot radius of her mouth right now made her insides churn.

  “I needed aluminum foil,” he answered.

  “I’m so lost right now—­Oh. My. God.” She covered her mouth as he dropped to the couch beside her and held up an aluminum ring, twisted to make a circle.

  “Quinn Alexis Higsby, I want you to know that, though I might not be able to go down on one knee just yet, I do know this. ­People use the phrase ‘other half’ and I’ve never known what that means, never understood it until you came into my life. When you are around, you complete me. You make me want to be my best self, the man I never thought I could be. Even as you cause a fire in me, you cool me down. No matter what happens today, I want you to know that you can count on me, all the way, to support you and walk alongside you no matter how hard the path or how uncertain the destination. Mr. Higsby, sir, you raised a heck of a woman, and I promise you here and now that I will treat your princess like a queen.”

  “Wilder.” Her throat swelled. “I don’t know what to say. This is all happening so fast. We talked about the future a little but in such abstract terms.”

  “For so long I’ve been putting what I want out of the equation. I want you for as long as our forever will be. One day. One year. One long and healthy lifetime. Whatever news you are about to get won’t change that. Surely there could be complications, but me loving you feels like the simplest answer of all.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes a million times over.”

  The words came out before she could overthink or analyze. It felt perfect and even though the little aluminum ring wasn’t what she had imagined during the occasional daydream when she’d pictured a handsome suitor sweeping her off her feet, the reality was that while Wilder was no Prince Charming, he was the prince of her heart and if she wanted a happy ever after, it would be with him.

  He slipped the foil ring on, pressing it against her skin. “I’ll buy you a ring soon,” he said. “I promise to do this right.”

  “You already have,” she murmured, leaning in to brush her lips against his. “You’ve done better than right. You’ve done amazing.”

  “I needed you to know that I’m in this no matter what, because I want to be,” he said before she could say another word. “Because I don’t want to be a hermit anymore.”

  Quinn turned to her dad and touched his arm. “Thank you for being such a good man, for teaching me to believe more good men were out there. I doubted I’d ever find a real-­life hero, but because of you, I never settled. I love you.”

  Wilder glanced to the wall clock. “It’s time.”

  The hospital was close. Her heart sped up but when Wilder slid his hand into hers, the strength of his grasp pressed that thin sliver of aluminum foil against her skin and it made her feel less alone.

  “I’ll see you soon, Daddy.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. She hadn’t called him Daddy in years but right now she felt reduced to a scared little kid, the one who used to cower when thunderstorms roared over the mountains. He’d always tell her the angels were bowling and even though she knew it was silly, the image made her giggle and pushed the scary feelings away.

  After they got to the hospital, she took a seat in the waiting room, and passed Wilder a magazine.

  “I’m okay,” he said.

  “Sorry, I meant please read to me.” She was desperate for distraction.

  He glanced down. “Country Homemaker. Okay, let’s see what we can do.”

  For five minutes his low voice rumbled about how to make the perfect fruit cake. She clung to every detail from soaking the dried fruit in rum to when to add the molasses.

  “Quinn? Quinn Higsby?” a woman called from the doorway.

  Quinn stood and Wilder’s hand settled on her waist. He didn’t have to say a word. His touch told her everything that she needed. He was here.

  The fact let her keep walking even though it felt like she was on a pirate ship in the Caribbean, tiptoeing along a plank and not looking down. No point making eye contact with the hungry sharks. They’d have their turn soon enough.

  The nurse smiled and Quinn tried to evaluate it. Was this a happy smile? Or sympathetic? Stop. She probably didn’t even know.

  By the time they were shown into a small waiting room, her heart was beating so loud that she couldn’t hear what Wilder said. His lips moved. His brow furrowed in concern.

  “What?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I . . .” She had this handled, right? No. Maybe? Go
d, how does anyone handle these last few moments of waiting without coming out of their skin? “I’m going to throw up.”

  He dragged over a garbage can and went to the sink, taking a paper towel and running it under the tap. He gave it a quick, efficient squeeze before handing it over. “Wipe your face, it will help make you feel better.”

  She wanted to argue but didn’t have the strength. Instead, she did what he said and found that it did feel better. A little cool water on her flushed cheeks. Who knew?

  “When I was in the fire,” Wilder said, “I thought the worst would happen. Dying in a fire was my biggest fear and there I was, looking at it happening. And it seemed like my entire life had boiled down to that moment. The thing that scared me, the burning shadow that haunted all my nightmares was going to come true.”

  “What did you do?”

  “For a moment I gave up,” he admitted. “I decided this was it. I rolled on my back and all I wanted to see was the sky. I figured if I could go out seeing blue then at least that was something. But instead all there was was smoke, thick and heavy, and while it sucked it was good because it cleared my head.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I said I wasn’t going to be beaten. If it was my day to go, that was fate’s business, but I’d fight until the end.”

  “What if I’m afraid?” Quinn’s voice broke.

  His features were gentle. How had she ever thought them mean? “Being afraid and fighting back is the true meaning of courage.”

  There was a knock on the door and Quinn squared her shoulders. “Okay then. I’ll fight, no matter what.”

  “Of course you will,” Wilder murmured as the door opened. “It’s who you are.”

  The doctor entered, looking over her chart. “Looks like you had quite the night.”

  “Excuse me?” It took Quinn a minute to realize she was talking about the fire. Good lord, how crazy was her mental space if the fact her house burned down was something she’d already forgotten about?