But being with you was like coming home to a place where I was more loved, more alive, more me than anywhere I’ve ever been. I should have told you about the tumor right away, but I couldn’t bring myself to ruin those perfect, happy hours we had—and I knew they were numbered. My future was so uncertain, and I didn’t want to drag you into it. I didn’t want you to feel burdened by your feelings for me. I didn’t want your pity. In my head, the only way to spare you from having to see me at my worst was to hide the truth from you.
And because I want to be honest, I will also admit that I wanted to spare myself the pain of losing you. The truth is that I don’t think I’m worth your love or all the trouble it will take to care for me. Maybe that’s because of my childhood, or maybe it’s just because I know I can be a selfish, stubborn prick and you shouldn’t have to put up with my bullshit, but there it is. So I tried to protect both of us by breaking things off.
I was wrong, and for that I am deeply sorry.
What I should have done was tell you the truth and give you the choice to be with me or walk away.
Which brings me to now. As you know, I am having the surgery on Friday, and the surgeon is hopeful he can remove the entire tumor. After that, we will wait for the biopsy to tell us if it is benign or cancerous. If it is cancer, I will likely need additional treatment like chemotherapy and radiation. It would be a long, difficult road to travel.
I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m scared.
I’m scared of losing feeling in my right hand. I’m scared of losing speech and memory. I’m scared of being dependent on someone else to take care of me. I’m scared of waking up and not feeling like myself anymore. And although I’ve never felt this way before, I’m scared of dying—not because I don’t want to face whatever reckoning awaits me, but because I don’t want to leave this earth yet. For the first time in my life, I’m looking ahead and thinking to myself, I’m not done.
I’m not done living, and I’m not done loving you, Maren Devine. Not by a long shot.
Granted, I’m not much of a catch right now, but I swear to God if you’ll give me that second chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you the happiest woman alive.
You once asked me to let you love me, and I promised I would. Let me keep my promise.
Now, then, always and only yours,
Dallas
I read it over a million times, took a deep breath, and hit send.
Then I closed my laptop, lay back, and prayed she would have it in her heart to forgive me. To accept me. To be mine.
It was going to be a long night.
I was awake for hours—frantically checking my email every five minutes—but eventually fell asleep sometime after three a.m. When I woke up, it was nearly eight, and I quickly looked at my inbox again.
Nothing.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried not to feel like this was a hopeless cause. But my head was pounding, my stomach was upset, and I had a horrible stiff neck from the awkward way I’d slept. Dragging myself out of bed, I followed the smell of coffee downstairs.
“Morning,” Bree said cheerfully, pulling clean plates from the dishwasher. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” I admitted.
She gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. Can I get you some coffee?”
“I can get it.” I took a cup from the cupboard and filled it with coffee from the pot. “Finn at work already?”
“Yes. He went in early today, and he said he’ll be late tonight. But he’s taking off tomorrow and a few days next week.”
That was because of me, and I felt guilty about it as I sat down on a stool at the island. “I wish I didn’t have to inconvenience you guys.”
“You’re not an inconvenience, Dallas.” She gave me a look. “You’re family. This is what we do for each other.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate everything.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused in her work and sipped from a mug on the counter that said There is a good chance this is vodka on it. “Finn told me you guys had a nice time in Portland.”
“We did.”
“I’m really glad. I think it really bothered him, more than he realized, that you two didn’t have a very close relationship. It bothered me, that’s for sure. I was always on him to do something about it, but he was just so darn stubborn.”
I gave her a half-grin. “Runs in the family.”
She laughed. “True. Anyway, I’m so happy about it. I’ve always been so close to my sisters, I can’t imagine what my life would be like without them.”
Her comment got me thinking about something. Maren was close to both her sisters. If I didn’t hear back from her by this afternoon, could I reach out to one of them?
“So what are your plans for today?” Bree asked.
“Uh, not sure, exactly.” Stalking my ex-girlfriend’s sisters seemed like a bad answer.
“Just let me know if there’s anything you need or if you want to go somewhere. I’m happy to take you. And is there anything special you want for your last … for dinner?” She caught herself, but I could see the slip had made her uncomfortable.
I wanted to put her at ease. “You know what was really fun? The night last week when we grilled hamburgers and hot dogs and hung out by the pool.”
She smiled, relieved. “Pool party it is!”
I drank some coffee, ate the toast Bree insisted on making for me, and checked my email again—nothing from Maren. After a quick shower, I unpacked my suitcase, putting clothes in dresser drawers and hanging a few things in the closet, although I hadn’t brought very much. When the kids got up, they wanted me to swim with them, so after checking my inbox one more time—nothing—I put on my suit, and followed them out to the pool.
“Hey, Oly, can I use your sunscreen?” I asked, spying some Coppertone near her pink unicorn towel.
“Sure,” my niece said, watching as I gently put some on my new tattoo, which had healed nicely. “Why do you have to do that?”
“To protect it.”
She looked closer. “What does Maren mean?”
Everything, I thought. “Maren is a name. She’s a friend of mine.”
“In Oregon?”
“Actually, she lives in Detroit. But I hope she comes to see me in Portland sometime.”
“Can I come to Portland sometime, too?”
“You better,” I said, giving her a threatening look.
She flashed a gap-toothed grin my way and went running for the pool. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
I pretended to hustle but let both her and Lane jump in before me.
“You’re a rotten egg, Uncle Dallas! You stink!” Olympia taunted, holding her nose. I retaliated by hoisting her up over my head and throwing her into the deep end. When she surfaced, she was laughing. “Do it again!”
I spent the day at home with the kids, and Finn surprised us all by coming home early. While he went up to change, I checked my email on my phone again, but there was no message from Maren. At this point, it was hard not to feel despondent—she had to have seen it by now, and she’d replied fairly quickly to Finn, hadn’t she? I’d texted and called and emailed. She had to have seen one of those attempts on my part. It was becoming increasingly clear that the issue wasn’t communication—the issue was that she was choosing to walk away.
But even if that was the case, I wanted to know for sure.
“Be right back, guys,” I said, wrapping a towel around me and heading into the house.
Upstairs in my room, I searched “Emme Devine wedding planner” on my phone. From what Maren had told me, Emme was the most romantic of the three sisters, so I figured she was my best bet. The website for Devine Events came up in the search results, and I clicked it.
Then I called the phone number.
“Good afternoon, Devine Events. Amy speaking.”
“Hi, I’m looking to speak with Emme Devine, please.”
“She’s not in the
office right now, can I take a message?”
Fuck! I frowned at the water I was dripping on the carpet. “Is there any way I could get hold of her? It’s sort of urgent.”
“Can I have your name?”
I cringed. Emme was not going to want to speak with me. “Dallas Shepherd.”
“And what event is this regarding?”
“It’s not regarding an event. It’s about her sister, Maren.”
“Oh.” Amy sounded alarmed. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No. I mean—there’s no emergency or anything, I just really need to speak with Emme about her, and I’m running out of time. Maybe.” God. I sounded like a fucking lunatic.
“Can you give me your number, please?”
I recited my cell number for her, and she said she’d get back to me. I wondered if it would be a while and contemplated going back outside, but it was only about thirty seconds before my phone vibrated. The number on the screen was not the one I’d just called.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dallas? This is Emme.”
“Hey, Emme. Thanks for calling me back.”
“No problem. My office called and said something about an urgent matter regarding Maren?”
“Yes.” I exhaled. “I’m trying to contact her.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Because I made a horrible mistake, letting her go.”
Silence. “I’m listening.”
I closed my eyes. “I want her back.”
“Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why did you break her heart like that?”
“Several reasons, all of which seemed valid at the time, but none of which matter to me anymore.”
“They matter to me,” she said. “So if you want me to help you get in touch with Maren, you better spill them.”
“Okay,” I agreed, and launched into the story. I told her everything, taking her on the journey from Portland to Detroit to Boston and back again. It was embarrassing and uncomfortable and really fucking awkward at times, but she was right—if I expected her to help, I had to make it clear what this meant to me.
“So the stuff you told her in the car last Sunday night was all bullshit?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And you really have loved her all this time?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to be with her now?”
“More than anything.”
“Wow, Nate was right.”
I had no idea what she meant by that. “I’m sorry?”
“Never mind. But Dallas, do you think she should trust you again, after what you did to her?”
I sighed, my eyes closing briefly. “I know it’s going to be hard. But yes, she should. I’m going to do everything I possibly can to earn it back.”
“Good.” Then she surprised me with a long sigh. “This is so romantic. I really want it to happen.”
“Do you think it can? Has she gotten my calls and messages the last two days?” I asked desperately.
“No. That I can tell you for sure. She’s been at some yoga retreat place where you have to completely unplug and live like forest nymphs or something.”
Relief, pure and powerful, washed over me. “When will she be back?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I was due at the hospital at six in the morning. Disappointment pressed heavily on me, and I lowered myself to the bed. “Okay.”
“You said the surgery is tomorrow too, right?”
“Right. I was kind of hoping to talk to her before I went in, but … that might not be possible.” I felt like crying.
“I’m sorry, Dallas.”
“It’s my own fault.”
Emme was silent for a moment. “When she gets back, I’ll talk with her. I can’t promise anything, because she was so angry and heartbroken, but I’ll try.”
“Thanks.” I swallowed hard. “Is she … okay?”
“No. She’s a mess, Dallas. She blames herself for falling for you. She thinks she deserves a broken heart for trusting you again.”
It was like a knife to the gut. I had no words.
“She went to this retreat place to recover some sense of self-worth, I think. Find her balance again. You really wrecked her.” Then she sighed. “But I do love a second-chance romance. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re being sincere about your feelings for her. So I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you.” I barely got the words out.
“You’re welcome. And good luck tomorrow, okay?”
“Thanks.”
We hung up, and I flopped back on the bed. My head ached, and my heart was in a million pieces, but I’d done all I could.
Now it was up to her.
Twenty-One
Maren
The knock surprised me.
It was Thursday evening at the retreat center, my last night there, and not once all week had anyone disturbed me in my room. I’d returned from the evening guided meditation session and was getting ready for bed when I heard the soft knock. I opened the door and found a retreat employee, a young woman, standing there.
“Yes?” My throat was scratchy and I cleared it. I hadn’t had a real conversation with anyone in four days. The silence was supposed to make it easier to find clarity and hear your inner voice, and although I was feeling slightly calmer than when I’d arrived, my inner voice had stayed quiet. I didn’t feel as though I’d resolved anything. I still cried myself to sleep, I still missed Dallas, and I was still having the nightmare almost every night.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” the employee said quietly, “but there was an urgent message for you to call your sister, Emme.”
I panicked. “Okay, thank you. I’ll call right away.”
I shut the door and flew to my suitcase, where I dug out my phone. I hadn’t looked at it since I got off the plane in Bangor on Monday, and frankly, I hadn’t even missed it.
Quickly I plugged it in, and when it came on, I called Emme. She answered right away.
“Maren?”
“Is everyone okay?” I asked frantically. “What’s going on?”
“Everyone is okay,” Emme said. “And I’m sorry to disturb you on your retreat.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh jeez, now I don’t know if I did the right thing.”
“Emme.” I touched two fingertips to my temple. “Please.”
She sighed. “Okay, but if you’re mad at me for this, I only did it because I thought you’d want me to. Well, and because it’s romantic, but—”
“Emme. I’m really not supposed to be on the phone or talking at all here.”
“You can’t talk there? That’s weird. Why not? I mean, I get the thing about unplugging from technology, but talking? Human to human? What’s wrong with that?”
Suddenly I appreciated the atmosphere of silence more than ever. “Because it encourages us to spend time within ourselves.”
“Is it helping you?”
“Some.”
“Well, good. Before you go back inside yourself, though, I just thought you might want to know that Dallas is trying to get in touch with you.”
My heart stopped. “He is?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he called me at work.”
“He did?” A wave of dizziness came over me, and I sat on my bed.
“Yeah. He said he’s called and left messages for you.”
“But why?”
“I think you need to hear it from him.”
“Tell me.”
“Gah, I didn’t want to do this. But I’m afraid if I don’t, you won’t talk to him.”
I took a deep breath.
“He loves you, Maren.”
“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t love anybody. He told me that, remember?”
“He lied to you.”
“What?” The room was spinning. “Why?”
“Because he’s a man, and when men get feelings w
ith a capital F, they act like idiots with a capital I. They make terrible decisions and do all the wrong things. In their caveman minds, it all makes sense somehow. But he loves you. He told me so.”
“He told me a lot of things. Doesn’t make them true.”
“Look, just talk to him. Or at least read his messages.”
“You know what, I don’t even want to read his messages, Emme. Like you said, he lies. And I’ve fallen for too many of them already.”
“Okay, then don’t. I only thought you might like to know because he’s having that surgery tomorrow. I felt like if there was anything you wanted to say to him, you might want to say it now.”
“I’ve said everything I want to say to him already,” I said bitterly. I wouldn’t be guilted into playing the fool again. He’d made his choice. “And I’ve heard all I need to hear.”
“Okay, Maren.” Her voice was quieter. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I took a breath and softened my tone, too. “I’m sorry, too. I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself. I’m having a really hard time getting past this.”
Silence. And then, “Do you still love him?”
I closed my eyes, felt my chest tighten. Of course I do. “It doesn’t matter.”
“If it makes a difference, Mare, when I talked to him, I felt like he was being sincere.”
“I did too, Emme—that’s the problem! He’s a master at sincere. He can make you trust him so easily it’s criminal.” I started to cry. “But it’s not real. And it doesn’t last. He always leaves.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. This is all my fault.”
“No, it isn’t.” I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m being bitchy and you’re trying to help. How are you feeling?”
“Great. I saw the doctor yesterday and everything is perfect so far. I’ll have an ultrasound at ten weeks to confirm the due date.”
“Has Nate recovered from the shock?”
Emme giggled. “Almost. I’ve only seen him faint one other time in his life, and that was the night he found out about Paisley.”
Only Him Page 23