by Wendy Owens
“Baby,” the words slip out of my mouth instinctually. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’ve just been a little under the weather,” he defends and then grabs his robe from the end of the bed, wrapping it around himself. “What are you doing home? I didn’t expect you for a couple more days.”
I think about the question. I’ve just walked in; I’m not ready to dive straight into the devastating break up talk.
“I finished my work and decided I wanted to come home early.” So far, that is mostly the truth.
He hugs me, kisses my cheek, and leaves the bedroom, heading into the kitchen, to pour a glass of orange juice. I watch him. He seems different.
“Are you sure everything is okay?” I ask again.
“Of course,” he replies, but I don’t believe him. “Well …” he hesitates.
“What is it?” I press.
“We need to talk,” he answers softly.
My stomach flutters, and I wonder if he somehow knows about Christian already. “Okay.”
“It’s about the wedding.” As he says the words, I feel my stomach drop like an elevator plummeting from the top floor to the basement.
“All right, is something wrong?” I inquire, following Henry over to the small cafe table.
He looks at me. There’s a pain in his eyes. He knows something, and while I’m not sure exactly what, I’m confident I see pain. He doesn’t respond.
The room is dark, but even without the light I can tell he’s pale. “Have you been resting, like the doctors said?”
“Paige,” he begins, completely ignoring my inquiry. “This is going to be hard to say, so please, just let me get through it. After you hear me out, we can decide what to do about the wedding.”
What to do about the wedding? So he does know something, and he’s going to call off the wedding. Why does this bother me? Shouldn’t I be glad he’s about to do this for me? Say nothing, Paige, just listen.
“Something’s happened.” I swallow hard at his statement. “I went to the doctor for the elimination diet, and it still wasn’t helping, at least not like it should. Two weeks ago I got back the results of my head scan.”
This is not how I expect the conversation to go. Where are the accusations, the screaming, and the disgust? My heart races as a panic rushes over me.
“Is everything all right?” I ask, staring closer now at all the things that have changed about his appearance.
“I’m afraid not.”
I’m not thinking about the wedding or about Christian any longer. All I can think is this is bad, and everything is about to change forever. “Henry, what’s going on?”
He takes a deep breath, leans forward, and scoops my hand into his. I notice how cold he is, and how slender his fingers have become. He looks me in the eyes and softly says, “I have a grade four brain tumor.”
“What?” I gasp, shaking my head, not wanting to allow the information to sink in. “No, that’s not right.”
“It’s not good, sweetheart. It’s malignant,” he continues. I notice he’s calm.
“I don’t understand,” I finally manage to say, my eyes welling up quickly.
“I’m dying,” he replies plainly.
“No, that can’t be, there has to be some sort of mistake. How bad is it?”
“There’s nothing else they can do right now. The tumor is too large for surgery, and because of its stage, it’s growing aggressively. They want try and shrink it with chemo in hopes the tumor gets small enough that they’ll be able to operate.”
“Okay good, so there’s a plan. When does the chemo start?” I question, my mind focused completely on the problem and how to fix it.
“That’s just it, I’m not sure I’m going to have it.”
“What? What do you mean? You have to have it.”
“Honey, the doctors say my chances are pretty slim. As it is now, if I get plenty of rest, who knows how long I could live with this.” he explains.
“No! You just want to give up? That’s not an option!” I exclaim, refusing to accept what he’s saying. “Henry, you have to promise me, if there’s a chance, even a slim one, then you’re going to fight.”
“Listen, you need to take a deep breath. I’ve had time to process this, you haven’t.”
“Yeah, tell me about it! I can’t believe you’ve known about this for two weeks, and you haven’t told me.”
“What was I supposed to say? I didn’t even know how I felt about it,” he explains.
I furrow my brow, my body jerking at the shock of his statement, “You didn’t know how you felt about what?”
“Putting you through this.”
I huff, “You’re not putting me through anything. I’m here because I want to be,” I insist. In a moment everything has been turned on its head, and all I can think about is the idea of Henry no longer being in the world. I wish my heart would stop aching.
“I’m giving you an out. You don’t have to do this with me. Nobody will blame you. I won’t blame you.” His voice is tender and sweet.
“Stop. Stop it now!” I snap. I don’t have to think about it. The answer pops out immediately. “Don’t be ridiculous. This doesn’t change a thing. In a week we’ll be married, and I’ll be by your side the entire time. We’re going to beat this—together.”
I’m certain the words I spoke are truer than any other I have ever spoken. Sitting here with Henry, the idea of death stealing him from my world, there is no more confusion. Christian will move on. Here, with Henry, is exactly where I’m supposed to be. And I am ready to make it that way permanently. We’ll figure this out.
Suddenly the reality of what I’ve done comes crashing down. I assumed Henry was pulling away because he sensed something in me, when in fact, he was fighting here, all by himself. I’m sickened as my epic selfishness settles over me.
“Oh God,” I moan, collapsing from my chair onto my knees. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” I say over and over. He assumes I am sorry he’s sick, but there is so much more I am sorry for.
He doesn’t hesitate to get down on his knees with me, wrapping his arms around my convulsing body, attempting to console me. My sobs are heavier as I feel how weak his grasp is.
“Are you sure?” he asks me. “Everyone would understand if this is too much for you.”
“Don’t ask again,” I tell him through tears. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, baby,” he says with an intense relief in his voice.
It’s more than loving him and knowing he loves me. It’s exactly as his mother had told me all those years ago: without him in my life, there will be a hole—one that I doubt could ever be filled. I will marry Henry, and we’ll fight this, harder than either of us have fought for anything in our lives.
I decide I’ll call Christian first thing tomorrow and tell him I’ve made a mistake—a terrible mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I’VE WAITED MY entire life for this moment. The day where I take all of my designs from the very earliest stages to full execution of pieces that will be worn down the runway. A dream I thought was impossible is now coming true. But it no longer seems to carry any importance for me.
All I can think about is Henry. I keep wondering if I’d never left New York, would I have seen him deteriorating and forced him to see a specialist much sooner? Would a couple of months mean he had more of a chance? While I was in Christian’s arms, I should have been here, focusing on Henry and our wedding.
“Paige,” I hear Emmie’s voice behind me. She flew in to help with the final details of the show and was staying through the week until the wedding was over. “This young lady here is having trouble fitting into the piece set aside for her. You have her marked as wearing midnight haze.”
I turn and size up the model; it’s obvious she didn’t provide accurate measurements to the agency. “Send her over to Marcy. She has a couple back up pieces we could try.” I turn and begin examining the schedule, making sure
the order the pieces appear on stage in is complementary, but I still can’t concentrate. Trailing after each thought is one about Henry.
“How are you doing?” Emmie asks, moving in next to me.
“I’m great,” I lie. “I can’t believe Eva lent me Marcy for the night. It’s such a huge help.” I’d worked under Eva in Paris when she launched her line. Marcy was my replacement, and boy, is she amazing.
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Emmie interjects.
“I don’t understand, what do you mean then?”
“I get off the plane this morning and when I get to your place, you drop the ‘Henry has cancer’ bomb on me, and then we come here. What I mean is, how are you holding up?”
I shake my head and smile at my friend. “I’m not going to let myself get down. Henry said that the doctors told him half the battle is keeping a positive attitude. I wish he didn’t have to have treatments before our honeymoon, but I guess the sooner they start the better.”
“Paige, honey, do you really think it’s a good idea to get married right now?” Emmie asks softly, reaching out and touching my arm.
“What? Henry’s sick so I should just abandon him?”
“No, and I think you know me well enough to know that’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you should end it with him, but when you left Texas last week you told me you were coming home to tell Henry you still loved Christian.”
“I was wrong!” I shout, pulling away, and flashing my friend a warning look.
“I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t want you to make any rash decisions.”
“That’s exactly what I was doing with Christian. I’d been away from Henry for months, we were barely talking, I was lonely, and it gave Christian the opening to work his way in, and make me have doubts.”
“Sweetie, all I’m saying is why not postpone the wedding? It might be easier on Henry,” Emmie suggests.
“Henry wants to get married as badly as I do. I’m just thankful I didn’t do anything with Christian that I can’t undo,” I explain, doing my best to keep the volume of my voice in check.
“Fine, I care about you and—”
“You promised,” I remind her.
“I know—no telling Colin or Christian about Henry’s illness. And I won’t. If you’re sure this’s what you really want, and not just because Henry’s sick, then I won’t say another word about it,” Emmie relents.
I take a step forward, firmly grasping my friend’s hands with my own, my voice shaking and my eyes burning with tears. “I love Henry and … I don’t know, I guess— some part of me still loves Christian. But what I had with Christian is in my past, and that’s where it should stay. I knew that the moment Henry told me about the cancer; it was like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I couldn’t breathe or think. I need him to be all right, because he’s my other half, and I love him. I can’t live without him.”
“I won’t say a word,” Emmie repeats in almost a whisper. “You two will get through this.”
Emmie opens her arms and pulls me into an embrace. It feels like her arms wrap around me five times, with warmth I so desperately need. An acceptance and understanding that I’ve been seeking since I told her. A comfort only my best friend can provide.
“It’s going to be such a long road. He’s been dealing with the headaches for so long he hardly sleeps. I noticed he even has trouble walking sometimes. What am I going to do?”
Emmie squeezes me tighter. “You’re going to fight. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. If anyone can do this, you can.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, a tear breaking free and running down my cheek.
Chapter Twenty-Four
LITTLE GIRLS DREAM about that perfect day, the one when they walk down the aisle and marry their soul mates, their white knights. It’s what fairytales are all about. What’s never in the fairy tale is finding out the prince has cancer.
Henry’s grandmother has taken care of all of the details regarding the big day with impeccable detail. There’s a level of elegance and sophistication that would have left any bride awestruck. The flowers are classic with a mixture of lilies and roses. Though I’d planned on designing the bridesmaids dresses myself, I hadn’t had time, but luckily Gram came through on those as well. They are a lovely muted gray, and the color reminds me of a sky just before a storm.
The photographer’s name is Jane. I requested another company, but apparently when you decide to hide out in the South for a couple months, you get whatever you get. On a positive note, she seems to be highly qualified. As she snaps moments of the girls and me getting ready, it’s hard for me to repeatedly gather my lips into a smile. The poor woman has no idea what’s happening in my life, and it’s impossible for her to understand that the day, which should be the happiest, now has a huge cloud hanging over it.
There are morning pictures in Central Park, the artistic shots in gritty alleyways, and the obligatory chapel images captured. I can see Jane has many more pre-ceremony poses planned, but I simply can’t force another toothy, fake grin. Much to Jane’s dismay, I inform her that we have enough images with the bride, but she is welcome to continue with the rest of the girls. Considering half my bridesmaids are model friends, they are used to long photo shoots. Based on Emmie’s glare, before I duck away, I don’t think she is nearly as understanding.
When I excuse myself, I have no idea where to go. I’m dressed in my handmade wedding gown, and popping into a coffee shop alone seems like a bad idea that will invite many unwanted questions. I decide to hide out in the dressing room of the church; merely being alone with my thoughts will be enough.
There is no detail left undone. The sanctuary is beautiful, from the natural lighting that glows on the marble, to the antique candelabras at each corner of the aisles. Even with all the beauty that surrounds me, I can’t seem to shake the thoughts that have been plaguing me since my return home.
Henry is sick. It’s a fact I’m going to have to accept and deal with. There’s a very real possibility that no matter how hard we fight this, he isn’t going to win. Every time the dark thoughts loom, my stomach begins to ache, and it isn’t just because of the fear. Something much worse is haunting me. Guilt.
Guilt ravages my thoughts. The times Christian and I had recently kissed replay over and over in my mind. The fact that I had been returning home to break Henry’s heart, it is becoming a burden I’m finding hard to carry. On multiple occasions I’ve considered sharing my transgressions with Henry, but I know him too well.
He already tried to provide me with a possible exit from our relationship. If he finds out about my regrettable mistakes with Christian, he will assume I’m marrying him out of pity and never allow the ceremony to happen. I can’t tell him.
In the past few days I’ve managed to distract myself with wedding details. Grandmother Wallace wanted to ensure all of the reception details were to my liking. Henry had always been a fan of their vacations in the Hamptons as a boy, so she wanted to bring the Hamptons to New York. I honestly could not have chosen anything better myself. As I see all the hard work she poured into the event I begin to regret the various control freak comments I’d made about the woman.
The menu is a traditional seaside lobster dinner, with long family-style seating, a request made by Henry. Even thought the guest list is quite extensive, he wants to do everything in his power to make it feel like an intimate celebration. The centerpieces contain touches of navy, white, and the gray from my bridesmaids dresses. She nailed the nautical details without it feeling like a cheesy, themed event.
Off to one side of the massive hall is a rustic rowboat with Henry and Paige painted along the side. For the evening’s events it will be loaded with ice and champagne. Staring at my reflection in the mirror before me, I can’t help wishing that the ceremony was over and Henry and I were on our way to the reception. I have this uneasy feeling that something is going to go wrong. That somehow I’m going to—
“Paige?” My breath catches in my throat when I hear the voice behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, hoping it’s only my imagination. Then I hear it again. “Paige, it’s me. It’s Christian.”
What is he doing here? My heart is racing. Opening my eyes, I turn my head slowly and see him standing at the entrance of the dressing room. The look on his face is one of sadness, which I don’t think I’ve seen on him since his parents died.
I stand and turn to face him, a rush of panicked thoughts race through my mind. What if someone sees him? What if Henry sees him? How do I make him leave? Is this my dream from months ago coming true?
He doesn’t say a word. He just looks at me, as if he’s expecting me to explain myself. But there is nothing to explain. I already told him everything when I called. It was the day after Henry told me about the cancer. I’d had an entire night for the information to sink in, to understand what I was doing. I was even more confident in my choice. I wanted to be with Henry, to see him through the tough fight he had ahead of him. I knew if Christian found out about Henry’s illness, he would assume I’d made my choice out of some false sense of loyalty and reveal my slip-up in Texas to Henry.
Instead I told him a variation of the truth, leaving out the bit about Henry being sick. I explained that once I saw Henry and our home, I’d realized that I’d made a mistake. I told him how I loved Henry and wanted nothing more than to be his wife, and I was positive what had happened between us had been an error in judgment.
He tried to argue with me, but each time I interrupted him sharply, ensuring him there was no use. I ended the conversation with a very direct instruction. I told him if he cared about me in any way that he needed to let me be happy, and to please never contact me again. Perhaps he would have still tried to plead his case, but I didn’t give him the chance. I simply hung up, and prayed he would stay in my past.
But here he is now, staring at me. I widen my eyes, then in an irritated tone ask, “What are you doing here?”