Lily nods. “I’m putting together an event for next year that will raise money for family vacations for terminally-ill children, and I was thinking if you had an in with Abby, I’d ask the Cypress Lane Foundation to be part of it.”
“Yeah,” I say numbly. “That sounds like the kind of thing she supports.”
“But if things are rocky with you guys, I definitely don’t want to make it awkward. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known you guys weren’t talking.”
“Yeah…sorry.” I scrub a hand down my face. “We left things in a pretty bad place. But I don’t know if we’re over. I hope not, but it’s not only up to me.”
Lily reaches across the table and pats my hand. “She’d be lucky to have you, Luca. Any woman would.”
“As long as she doesn’t mind wearing a strap on,” Jonah quips, lightening the mood.
“Jonah,” Lily scolds, rolling her eyes.
“What, he only likes it in the ass,” Jonah says, grinning.
“You’re an asshole,” I say, then turn and give Lily a wink. “You ought to leave his ass and be with me instead.”
“I think I’m stuck with this wannabe comedian,” she says, leaning against Jonah. “And I can tell you’ve got it bad for someone else, anyway. I hope you and Abby can work things out. And not because of the foundation. For you.”
I nod, thinking about the flood of emotions in Abby’s eyes at the charity game. “Thanks, Lily.”
* * *
After lunch, I only make it as far as my SUV parked outside the restaurant before I text Abby.
Me: Things got heated when we were texting the other day. I’m sorry. I don’t want this to be the end for us. Can we talk?
I don’t really expect her to respond, but she does.
Abby: I’m sorry for the way we left things, too. At the very least, I’d like us to be friends. I’d like to talk. When is good for you?
Me: Anytime.
Abby: I’m in between meetings right now, should I call?
Me: Yes.
My phone rings immediately, and I answer it.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” she says softly.
“How are you?”
She pauses before answering. “I’m doing better.”
Just the sound of her voice rouses something deep inside me. I never thought there could be a woman out there who was so kickass, independent and sexy, but also needs me the way I can tell Abby does.
She doesn’t just need a man; she needs me. And the more weeks and months that pass without me having any interest in other women, I realize maybe I need her, too.
“Listen,” I say gently. “I don’t have the right words to say—words that won’t make you feel defensive or upset. I wish I did, though.”
“Oh, Luca. It’s not you. Please know that. The issue that day at the game was not you or anything you’ve said or done.”
I hold the phone away from my mouth to exhale heavily before moving it back to talk again. “I’ve been thinking that I need to just let you go. Not because I want to, but because you’ve been so clear that you don’t want to be with me. And I hate that, Abby. But I had accepted it, until I had lunch with the head of the Blaze Foundation just now and she told me about your foundation and all the philanthropic work you do.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“For children,” I continue, clearing the emotion from my throat. “So now I know you aren’t really a workaholic who doesn’t like kids.”
“Luca…” She sounds near tears.
“What am I missing, Abby? I know there’s a lot I don’t know about you, but I want to learn it all—the small stuff and the big stuff. And I’m missing something huge. Aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to dig around on the Internet to see if I can find out what’s going on with you. I want to hear it from you.”
“I…had a family once.” Her voice is raw, tinged with the pain I saw in her eyes that day she saw me with Emerson. “A husband and a daughter. They both died.”
My chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. I close my eyes, oblivious to the traffic passing by as I sit in the driver’s seat of my SUV.
“Abby, I’m so sorry.”
“Tim and I met our freshman year of college,” she continues. “We got married right after graduation. We loved each other. What we had was so steady and sure. And then Chloe came.” Her voice breaks as she speaks her daughter’s name.”
“I’m right here,” I say, needing to remind her. “I wish I was there with you, holding you as you tell me this, but I’m with you in every possible way I can be right now.”
There’s a hint of a sad smile in her voice as she continues. “When Chloe was three, Tim took her out for ice cream one evening. I didn’t go because I…” Her voice shakes with emotion, but she keeps going. “I had a sinus infection and I was lying on the couch resting. I fell asleep and the phone woke me up not long after they left. They’d been rear-ended by a semi.”
“Oh God.” I squeeze my eyes closed, unable to even imagine the horror she felt that night.
She sniffles and continues. “Tim was unconscious when the medics got there. He woke up a few minutes later. He had a concussion and a fractured pelvis. Lots of cuts and bruises. But he was okay. Chloe, though…” Abby’s crying as she says the words. “Her injuries were worse. They did everything they could, though. They put her on life support and tried to relieve the swelling in her brain. When I walked through that door and saw my little girl in that hospital bed…it was the worst moment of my life. Nothing will ever compare to that. I would’ve given my life for hers if I could’ve.”
Abby takes a few deep breaths between stuttered sobs. I hate that we’re having this conversation over the phone, but maybe it’s easier for her to tell me the story this way rather than face to face.
“I’m okay,” she assures me. “I can never get through this without crying, but I’m okay.”
“I’m so very sorry you went through that,” I say earnestly.
“Thank you,” she says softly. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Do you want to tell me the rest? You don’t have to if it’s too much.”
“No, I…I want to finish.” She clears her throat. “So we’d been at the hospital for several days. None of the tests were showing anything positive for Chloe. Tim was on crutches, but we were there together, never leaving Chloe’s side except to use the bathroom. He was a wreck. He felt so guilty since he’d been driving the car, even though it wasn’t his fault. The police told us the truck driver fell asleep at the wheel. And the doctors…they told us there was nothing more they could do for Chloe, that…” Abby’s voice breaks. “That it was time to turn off the machines and let her go.”
Emotion wells in my throat. Now that I have kids, I have some idea of what that would do to a parent. I don’t know how Abby managed to keep going.
“Our family was there, and we were making plans for when we turned the machines off. Organ donation takes time to coordinate. And Tim…he told me he needed some fresh air. He walked right out the front entrance to the hospital and threw himself in front of an oncoming bus. He died instantly.”
“Jesus Christ.” I stare out my windshield, shocked.
I don’t say the things that come to mind. How the fuck could he do that? How could a man leave his wife in the moment she needed him the most? He left her alone to witness the death of their precious daughter. And I don’t care how much pain he was in. Fucking coward.
“I still went through with ending the life support,” Abby says softly. “I had to. There was no chance for Chloe to wake up, and other kids were depending on those organs. I had a double funeral for them. And then I descended into a deep, dark depression that I never thought I’d crawl out of. I didn’t want to.”
“That’s understandable. You went through hell, Abby.”
“After seven months of grieving and not leaving my house, I w
oke up one day and decided to do something in Chloe’s name. It was cathartic for me to build Cypress Lane and the foundation. It gave me an outlet. Something else to focus on.”
“I can’t even imagine.” I’m dazed as I think about what she survived, and then what she made from the ashes of her former life.
“I was a stay-at-home mom before. Warm and nurturing. I baked. I deferred to Tim on all the big decisions. So I decided to reinvent myself and become someone new. I don’t think I could have survived any other way.”
“You should be so goddamn proud of yourself.”
She exhales softly. “I’m proud of what the foundation has done.”
“You did that, Abby. That was you.”
“It was my company.”
“Led by you.”
There’s a pause before she says, “Chloe had blond curly hair, Luca. And when I saw you put your hand on your niece’s curly hair that night…” Her voice breaks again. “It was so tender and…it made me think of Tim and Chloe.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t know. But trust me, Luca, I’m no good for you or those kids. I’m still just a shell. I spent three days in bed when I got home from Chicago. You guys need someone whole and healthy.”
My mind is turning, but not around what she just said.
“Are you busy tomorrow?”
“What?”
“Tomorrow, Abby. Are you busy? And the next day, too.”
“I’m not, but…why?”
“Because I’m coming there to see you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Luca
“Scoop it into the goal then, and bam! You see what I’m sayin’ here, son?”
I smile weakly and nod. “Yeah, sounds like you’ve really thought this through.”
The guy next to me on my flight to New York has been giving me hockey advice since he saw my Blaze cap and recognized me as a player for the team he’s loved his whole life. Right now, he’s telling me how to score on a power play.
“You can’t miss if you follow that strategy,” he says emphatically. “You think you can pass that one on to your coach?”
“I…”
The young woman in front of us in first class saves me from having to answer. She turns around and glares at Rich, the guy chatting my ear off.
“Dude, you’re so fucking loud. Can you shut up?”
“Well, excuuuuse me, you entitled millennial snowflake.” Rich huffs and rolls his eyes. “You gonna cry about it now?”
“No, I just want you to shut up, for the love of God. If the guy next to you is a pro hockey player, don’t you think he knows what he’s doing?”
“Did the Blaze make it past the opening round of the playoffs?”
The woman glares at him. “I have no clue, and I really don’t care. Can you just turn the volume down about a hundred notches?”
Rich mimics her in a whiny tone. “Can you turn down the volume about a hundred notches? You’ve got no respect, snowflake.”
A flight attendant approaches and gives Rich a stern look. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to be quiet. You’re disturbing the other passengers.”
I jump on the opportunity to get free from Rich’s advice, putting in my AirPods and leaning my head back, eyes closed, hoping I look unapproachable.
I like talking to fans about hockey, but Rich is obnoxious and my mind is on one thing only today—Abby. I’ve been thinking about her pretty much every second since we got off the phone yesterday and I booked my flight to see her.
Her news gutted me hard. In the last few years, I’ve learned what deep loss feels like. But what I’ve been through isn’t the same as what Abby faced. I cried on the drive home as I thought about it. It made me think of Matt and Danielle.
Matt went quickly—a roadside bomb ended him and he never saw it coming. Danielle’s death was slower. We lost her over the course of several months, giving her and her children the chance to say a long, painful goodbye.
I knew my brother better than anyone, and I got to know his wife a lot better over the months she lived with me during her illness. Danielle got comfort from knowing her kids were happy and healthy when she died. She told them to live on for her, to not let sadness take over and rob them of their childhood.
Matt and Danielle both would have preferred to die a thousand deaths rather than see one of their children suffer. And now I feel the same way about their kids. I’d give my blood, my organs, my very life to protect them, without hesitation.
But Abby never got that chance. Her daughter’s young life was snuffed out in one violent instant. I wish I could go back in time and be there as she sat at Chloe’s bedside. I don’t know how Abby’s husband could abandon her during her darkest hour. I don’t know how much he hurt from the guilt and having to let his baby girl move on to the next life, but he shouldn’t have left Abby to handle it alone.
I want to hold her. To take away even a fraction of her pain. The kids are in good hands with Sheila, and this is where I belong right now.
After all the times I told myself I don’t have time for a relationship, this thing with Abby snuck up and took me by surprise. There’ll be no more mental back and forth about whether I can be there for her—I will be.
Abby deserves more than what she got and more than what she has now. I just have to hope she’ll let me be her more.
* * *
Abby
Luca Campbell can be stubborn. He wouldn’t give me his flight information so I could send a car to pick him up. Instead, he asked for my address and said he’d be here around 1:00 p.m.
It’s about that time now, and I’m sitting not so patiently in my living room, scrolling through emails to distract myself. I’ve cleaned the apartment and prepared a pot roast with some vegetables that are slow cooking in the kitchen.
After our conversation yesterday, I feel emotionally hollowed out. It’s not a bad thing, though. In the past five days, I’ve released all the emotions I work so hard to keep buried every day. I’ve had the nightmares, cried the tears and felt the pain. I’ve remembered. And while all of that hurts like hell, I have finally accepted what happened.
Harboring the pain and trying not to remember takes effort. And it is exhausting.
My body is well rested for the first time in forever. My mind isn’t going in a thousand directions to avoid thoughts of Tim and Chloe. And telling Luca brought me more peace than I ever would have imagined it could.
No more hiding. Luca knows my most painful truths now. And I think he also knows me better than I thought he did.
If he had asked me if he could come here today, I would have said no. I’d probably be curled up on the couch or out for coffee with Percy, who has been texting me often because she’s concerned about how I’m doing.
But when he just told me he’s coming, it felt good. He didn’t give me the option to decide. It kept me from falling back into self-preservation mode.
My attempts at protecting myself are the reason no one has ever been to my apartment, other than people delivering groceries or cleaning. When reporters doing profiles on me ask to interview me here, I always insist that my office is where I spend most of my time so I’d rather do it there.
And it’s true. This apartment is a safe haven for me, but it’s not at all personal. There are no photos on the walls, just some neutral landscape paintings. This apartment belongs to Abby Daniels, kickass entrepreneur who gets all her shit done.
Daniels was Tim’s last name; I took it when we got married. But the fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old he married that gorgeous summer day, who loved baking and road trips? That was Abby Barrett. I was a warm, laid-back woman who longed to become a mother.
And even when I did, I was still the woman Tim married that day. And on that dark night that the light of my life left the world on a busy highway, I shifted. I may have had a chance of finding some new way forward, but I’ll never know. Because when Tim died just hours before I had to formally
end my own baby girl’s life, I had no chance of being the old Abby again.
Abby Daniels became who I needed to be. Sharp. Tireless. Impersonal.
When I talked to Luca, though, I felt the old me lingering somewhere inside, asking if it was safe to come back out. It made me wonder if maybe, I could find a way to be Abby Barrett Daniels.
The old me and the new me, melded into one woman who is more than just a survivor.
When my doorbell rings, I smile. Getting up to answer the door, I feel the flutter of anticipation I always get before seeing Luca.
I open the door and he’s there, a small black suitcase beside him. His blue eyes are bright, he’s got several days worth of stubble on his face, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman who exists.
He comes toward me and I move toward him at the same time. And when he wraps me in his arms tightly, lifting my feet from the floor, I close my eyes and let comfort wash over me.
I cry softly, and he doesn’t let go. He walks into the apartment, toes his suitcase in beside him and then kicks the door closed.
When he eases me back to the floor and steps back, he brushes his thumb over the corners of my eyes, wiping away my tears, and then cups my face in his hands.
“I want to be with you, Abby,” he says earnestly. “Only you. Do you want to be with me?”
I nod, my throat burning with unshed tears. His expression relaxes.
“Then we’ll figure the rest out. As slowly as we need to. Let’s not overthink everything or worry, okay? I’m here. Not like here as in, in the apartment, but here. With you. Don’t push me away, and I promise you I won’t go on my own.”
Silently, I nod again. Luca glances around the apartment.
“Great place,” he says, looking out the massive living room windows at the skyline view.
“Thanks.”
“Are you cooking something?” He arches his brows, looking impressed. “Smells amazing in here.”
Luca: A Chicago Blaze Romance Page 11