by Beck, Jamie
“Not that I have many to say. Cancer weeds out the real friends from the false. It’s sobering to learn how few true friends a person with thousands of ‘followers’ and hundreds of acquaintances has. In one case, the fault is mine, but not so with the rest. It seems I sleepwalked through much of my healthy life, seeing what I wanted or remembering only what made me feel good. Perhaps my tombstone should read ‘Peyton Prescott, Globejotter and Master of Self-Deception.’
“So now I lie in bed with the blinds drawn and swear to myself that, for however many days remain of my life, I will never again waste energy on hangers-on or insincere people. I will never say yes to things I don’t want to do. I will forego being the life of the party and try harder to be a loyal friend. A person of substance. A woman with real purpose, even though purpose eludes me still.
“Logan thinks this project is my purpose—a way to transform something ugly into something pretty. He has always had an eye for the beauty in life and in people, and I know I haven’t always made that easy for him, even though he doesn’t complain. Before I die, I wish I could, for one second, be the person he thinks I am.
“But first I need to find the strength to drag myself out of this bed . . .
“Maybe tomorrow.”
Peyton closed the book while the audience clapped. “Thank you. As I mentioned, it’s important for caregivers and loved ones to let a patient experience the lows without feeling the need to respond with optimism and encouragement. The sentiment is appreciated, of course, but it can unintentionally invalidate the patient’s feelings and fears, forcing them to keep those things to themselves. Silence is strangling to a person whose days might be numbered.”
Jane Mathis’s voice floated through her thoughts then, prompting her to add, “That said, there’s always cause for hope and a time to push someone toward optimism. Toward making the most of whatever time exists. And while I’ve got a few years before I reach the five-year survival milestone, I feel more optimistic every day. In a strange way, I’m grateful for the new experiences and people my illness brought into my life, which I’m more determined to fill with the best people and goals.
“Thank you for coming tonight. Logan and I are happy to take all your questions now.”
She risked a glance at that front row, and her throat ached when she saw her mother dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Seeing Darla Prescott, a woman who rarely—if ever—got emotional, do so in public meant more to Peyton than any bestseller list ever could.
A man near the front raised his hand.
“Yes, sir?” she asked.
“One of the things I loved about this book is the way it weaves the photographs with the journal entries, but I’m curious, did Logan ever consider writing entries from the caregiver perspective?”
“I’ll let Logan take that one.” She smiled and ceded the mic, always willing to step away from the spotlight.
“I’m not a wordsmith. I’ve always told stories with pictures, and while the subject is Peyton and the images capture her emotions, they also reflect my experience with her . . . my perception and day-to-day life as she and I met each challenge, setback, and triumph. Nothing I could’ve written would be more powerful than what I shot.”
Logan stepped back and Peyton took another question, and another, and so it went for twenty or so minutes. Finally Maura, whose timekeeping skills rivaled Mitch’s, shut down the Q and A. “Let’s give Logan and Peyton a round of applause, and then a short bathroom break before they set up over there to sign books.”
A minute later, Peyton excused herself to the restroom, which was located through another door and beyond some kind of storage area. Once she wound her way past piles of books and boxes to get there, she locked herself inside for two minutes of peace. BreatheBreathe. In and out.
She washed her hands and finger combed her hair. The event she’d most dreaded had concluded without a hitch, and she’d survived. Mitch should be pleased. Logan, too.
In a short while, she’d leave this bookstore and spend the night wrapped up in Mitch’s arms, convincing herself and him that this relationship would not be the great folly his mom predicted.
She opened the door to head back to the Rare Book Room, but then literally fell back against the wall.
Todd?
She blinked as if he were a mirage. He seemed taller than she remembered, but just as slim. He removed his baseball cap, showing his wild brown curls, which he now wore in a somewhat longer style. His brown eyes—the ones she’d once thought so warm—turned her heart to stone instead of making her knees weak.
He’d tucked his hands in the pockets of a summer-weight jacket.
“Hi, Peyton.” His weak smile worked like Novocain, numbing every inch of her body until she couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. “I’m sorry to startle you, but I thought it would be best to catch you alone. You were incredible tonight.”
The floor seemed to pitch like she was trying to stand on a raft in the ocean. Still, she could not make herself move. Surely someone would miss her soon.
“The book is great, and you look amazing.” Todd gestured toward her hair, reminding her of how he used to love to wrap its long length around his hand like a lasso. She recoiled, which she supposed was better than the absence of any sensation. “The new style is becoming.”
“Why are you here?” Finally, words! Her heart thumped so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything else.
“I had to see you with my own eyes to know that you’re okay.”
Her arm twitched, itching to wipe that stupid grin off his face.
“Okay?” Sucking breath in and out so fast was burning her lungs. “Move away from me. I have nothing to say to you.”
She sidestepped him and took long strides toward the other end of the storage room, which wasn’t easy on shaky legs.
The prick followed her. “Please, wait. I have so much to say. To apologize for. I’ve thought of you so often. Worried. Wondered. You have no idea how many times I’ve picked up the phone but then chickened out because of how badly I treated you. I’ve missed you, Peyton. So much.”
Although they’d crossed back through the door to the Rare Book Room and the crowd, she whirled on him, jabbing her finger at him. “Stop! You don’t get to come here and say that to me.”
“But it’s true. Each page of your book tore up my heart. I was weak and afraid. Overwhelmed. I loved you so much I didn’t think I could watch you suffer. I should’ve been stronger, but you were always stronger than me.”
“Shut up. I mean it. Shut up!” She knew her voice was too high, but she’d lost control over her body the minute he appeared in front of that bathroom. From the corner of her eye, she saw Krista wince. “I’m not interested in you or what you’ve been going through.”
All of a sudden, Logan and Mitch were at her side in a flurry of activity.
Mitch’s arm came around her waist. “Come with me.”
He didn’t even wait for her consent before he started pulling her away from Todd.
Logan stood, arms crossed, feet planted, speaking to Todd through gritted teeth, while her parents and friends collected behind him. “You’re not welcome, Todd. Leave now before you do any more damage.”
Todd glanced at her, but she turned away from him and let Mitch lead her to the other corner of the room, where he shoved a bottle of water at her and kept others away. She didn’t look back at Todd, so she had no idea what Logan did or said to get him to leave. The folks from Savant were probably displeased with her. Her parents, too.
When she found the courage to look up, she caught a glimpse of Claire’s ashen face. Shame came rushing back, and she guessed all the progress she’d made had vanished in a heartbeat.
She could barely breathe. Why had Todd come when he couldn’t believe she’d ever forgive him? As that thought struck, she almost fell backward from its blow. Of all the feelings circling her like a coil cinching her chest, this was the first time she’d actually grasped how Claire had first f
elt when confronted by her. Claire had too much class to walk over now and say, “I told you so,” but she had to have been thinking to herself, See how hard it is to forgive a betrayal?
Warm tears spilled onto Peyton’s hot cheeks.
“I’m so sorry.” Mitch grabbed her into a hug. “What can I do?”
“Nothing,” she said, coming back to her senses and daring a glance at the now-curious crowd. She eased away from Mitch and donned all her old armor. “I need to sign the books so I can get the hell out of here.”
“We can take another minute.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
“The sooner I start, the sooner this ends. Maybe you can go smooth things over with my editor.” She brushed back her hair, forced a smile, and walked to the signing table, where Logan was waiting. “Sorry for the interruption, everyone. There won’t be any more ghosts from my past stirring up drama tonight.”
Chapter Eighteen
“It’s fine, Lauren.” In fact, Mitch thanked God that his sister hadn’t come to the event. Even if Todd hadn’t crashed the party, the public venue wouldn’t have been his choice for where and when to introduce her to Peyton. More to the point, Todd had crashed the party, and Peyton had mumbled fewer than a dozen words since leaving the Strand. “Thanks for calling, but I’m wiped out. Can I catch up with you tomorrow?”
“Sure. Just wanted you to know I got stuck working late for a closing. The good news is that my stepping in when Joe fell behind forced Gary to see the truth about that guy.”
“Good for you. Can’t wait to hear more about it next time we talk, but I have to go now. Bye!” He tucked his phone away and fished his keys out of his pocket, then opened his apartment door. Peyton went inside ahead of him. After he threw the dead bolt, he closed his eyes for two seconds. None of his attempts to pull her out of her funk had worked, and precisely zero fresh ideas sprang to mind.
“Would you like some water, or perhaps wine?” He tossed his keys on the kitchen peninsula.
She shook her head before crossing to the window to gaze at the nighttime cityscape. While his generic apartment couldn’t compare with the grandeur of Arcadia House, the view through its window was equally spectacular, if also the opposite. Outside, the massive skyscrapers’ thousands of lights twinkled all around her slight frame like low-hanging stars.
He flexed his hands as if groping for a way to turn back the clock to keep Todd from interrupting the event. Powerlessness clawed at him, making his amble across the living room feel like trudging through waist-deep mud.
Before he reached her, her phone rang. She dug it out of her purse and sighed. “Logan.” She thrust it toward him. “Can you talk to him?”
He blinked. She never ignored Logan.
“Sure.” He took the phone. “Logan, it’s Mitch. Peyton can’t come to the phone at the moment. Can I help you?”
“How is she?”
Good question. Mitch headed back to the kitchen for a bit of privacy. “Quiet.”
“Claire, too. I can’t believe Todd showed up after how much pain he caused those two.” The ice in Logan’s tone made Mitch shiver.
“I’m sorry he ruined everyone’s evening.” Mitch strained his neck to catch a glimpse of Peyton, but she remained turned away from him.
“It never occurred to me to look for him.” Logan huffed. “Now I’m kicking myself I didn’t see this coming.”
“Don’t bother going down that road. What’s done is done.”
“And what about Krista? Is she pissed?”
“No. I explained everything. She’s just sad we didn’t throw Todd to an angry crowd. You take care of Claire. I’m with your sister, so you don’t have to worry. She’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Listen, Mitch, I don’t know how much Peyton’s told you, but I can’t overestimate how deeply Todd hurt her.” Logan paused. “She’d hate that I’m sharing that, but you need to understand the gravity of the situation. Peyton blew. Up. Her. Life for him because she’d believed he was ‘the one.’ And then she never got to mourn that relationship because we jumped straight into survival mode with the cancer treatment. My guess is that his surprise appearance will force her to sort through the Todd baggage. You should know—she’s not great at letting people close when she’s wrestling with her emotions. Be patient tonight and give her a wide berth.”
Mitch drew a breath, letting the weight of Logan’s words settle in his chest. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”
“My pleasure.” He meant it, even if he had no idea how to help her.
He hung up, setting the phone aside before scrubbing his face with his hands. Leaving Peyton with her privacy, he stayed in the kitchen to steep the lavender tea he kept on hand. He stood at the counter for a few minutes—hands flattened on the granite, head hung low—inhaling the sweet scent of the tea-infused steam.
Mitch had only recently put Peyton’s doubts to rest. He hadn’t needed Todd to resurface and reopen all those questions. After removing the tea ball strainer, he poured two cups and then went back to the window where she stood—arms crossed—motionless as a statue.
“Try this.” He extended one of the cups toward her.
She started as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone, then sniffed the tea after taking it from him. “It smells good. Thanks.”
Logan’s warning beat against his conscience, but Mitch had never solved anything by backing off.
“Can we talk about what happened tonight?” he ventured.
“Must we?” She sighed.
“No.” He sipped from his cup while trying to read her eyes. Gesturing to the sofa, he said, “Let’s at least sit down and relax.”
With one hand resting on her lower back, he steered her around the charcoal-gray chaise sectional he’d bought at West Elm not long ago. He’d been proud of the new look, which now seemed so trivial in the scheme of things that made life truly happy.
She set her cup on the coffee table and raked her hands through her hair, peering at him. “I’m sorry I lost control in front of everyone. I know I should’ve handled things better, but Todd shocked me. I hope no one videoed the confrontation, but at this point I can’t care that much. God, how I want this all to be over.”
Her expression melted into a frown so deep even her eyes appeared to droop.
“Peyton.” Mitch took hold of her hand and kissed it, then covered it with both of his hands. “I’m not upset with how you handled things, nor am I worried about book sales right now. I am worried about you, though.”
“I’m fine.” She yanked her hand away and reached for her tea. The way she was gazing into the cup, one might think it held the answers to every question.
“You don’t seem fine.” Now it was his turn to cross his arms. “I know as ‘Optimus’ I might not be the most spontaneous, romantic man, but I care deeply about you. I’d do anything in my power to help you, including listening—without judgment—to whatever your feelings are for that man.”
“I don’t want to talk about Todd.” She shuddered. “Why give him more power? He’s been such a destructive force, and now he ruined tonight for Logan and Claire.”
For Logan and Claire?
She covered her face with her hands, the agonized tone with which she’d emphasized Claire’s name so visceral it shimmered around her like snowflakes in sunlight.
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed her shoulder before prying her hands away from her face.
Tears pooled in her eyes. “Did you see Claire’s expression tonight? I bet Todd’s little performance sent me right back to square one with her. All the apologizing and effort I’ve put into mending that friendship erased in an instant.” She snapped her fingers. “And who could blame her? I’m so stupid. I knew I’d hurt her, but until tonight, I never understood why it took her so, so long to hear me out, let alone accept my apology. But I can never forgive Todd for how he betrayed me, so what kind of hypocrite am I?”
“Peyton.�
�� He tried to rub her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.
“Seriously. If I can’t do that for Todd, how can I beg for forgiveness again from Claire? I love her and I know it’s important to Logan, but I’m fresh out of fight. I’m tired. So, so tired. Two years ago, my life got smashed into thousands of pieces. I’ve been going along, day by day, trying to put them back together—like if I complete the giant puzzle, everything will finally be normal again—except when I think I’ve got the pieces fitted together, it’s like I’m looking at a Picasso version of myself.”
When she closed her eyes, he waited, allowing her the solitude of her thoughts.
She opened her eyes a few seconds later. “I need to hit reset and figure out what will make me happy now so I can build a new life around that. And I’m sorry to say this to you after everything you’ve done, but this book is not that thing. I’d do anything to get out of the future tour dates so I can take time to get myself together without any obligation to anyone else.”
He hadn’t seen that coming. “I know the memoir began as a distraction for you, and the editing, publication, and promotion haven’t been personally rewarding, but we’re right in the thick of it now. The rankings are terrific so far, and drumming up more buzz with personal appearances could push it onto the lists and make it stick. After everything you’ve sacrificed and put into this project, can’t you hang in there a few more weeks so you get all the rewards? After that, you’ll be free to choose what comes next, whether that’s going back to school or taking up your old job or anything else.”
Peyton threw herself back against the sofa cushions, arms flung across her face, covering her eyes. “I want to scream so loud, you have no idea.”