WHEN I GLANCE ACROSS THE room at the beauty whose infectious laughter captured my attention, I’m captivated.
Rich mahogany hair cascades in luscious curls I’m dying to run my fingers through. As she elbows the man standing next to her, ruby-red lips curve into a mischievous smile. A hot burst of jealousy flows through my veins as I eye the man who’s made her laugh, even though his own wife seems in on the joke. Emerald eyes dance with delight, widening slightly when she spies me regarding her from where I’m sipping charred whisky and puffing a celebratory cigar. One diminutive hand lifts to clasp the sparkling sapphire hanging from her neck. The piece rests nestled between two perfect breasts that now have my utmost attention. My eyes linger on the spot for a fleeting moment, then ascend to catch those cherry lips quirk.
Ah. I’ve been caught. Ensnared in her enchanting gaze, drawn to her like a siren’s song with each lingering peek beckoning me closer.
I place my cigar in the ashtray, no longer having a taste for it. Ice clinks against the side of my glass as I raise it towards the woman I can’t seem to get enough of.
The woman I’ve never been able to get enough of.
My wife, Amelia.
It’s not just the way the viridian-green wrap dress hugs every single curve of her—or how the color makes her bright eyes stand out, even from twenty yards away. It’s not the matching heels that accentuate the curve of both calves. It’s not the sparkling jewels that catch brilliantly in the light of the chandelier hanging above.
It’s not just one thing. Or a million.
It’s her.
Everything about her.
This beguiling temptress seduces me from afar, eliciting the urge to caress her bare, silken skin until I discover what else she’s hiding underneath.
Just as I’m about to place my glass on the table and head in her direction, the sounds of Ambrosia crooning come over the speaker system. As the first chords of “Biggest Part of Me” begins to play, I know that this is my moment. Our moment.
I switch my glass out with a passing waiter who’s carrying half-filled champagne flutes. With my drink, I start towards the love of my life.
My wife.
Her eyes soften as I amble in her direction, more than prepared to raise a glass to the woman of my dreams on our fortieth anniversary. The sight of affection reflecting back at me sets my soul on fire. As it’s always been with her.
Before I can reach her, I stop in my tracks at an unexpected, unbearable pang in my chest. Razor-sharp agony shoots down my arm, and a sudden tightness in my chest has me struggling for breath.
Everything around me becomes slow motion. A blur as I collapse to my knees. A distant shattering of glass barely registers.
I struggle to lift my head, finding my wife’s horrified expression before she rushes across the room to my side. She clutches my hand, and as I try to focus on her beautiful face, something tells me this might be the last time I ever do so.
That just might be the worst pain of all.
She moves behind me, and I almost protest at the loss of her in my vision but try as I might, I don’t have the energy. Severe, excruciating pain twists in my chest, shooting like crackling lightning over and over again as it strikes the same spot. Every nerve ending in my arm ignites, and each breath I take feels like icicles piercing my lungs.
This can’t be happening.
Not here. Not now.
Not ever.
Amelia cradles my head in her lap, her gentle touch a contradiction to the orders she’s barking to those around us.
“Knox,” she murmurs for only me to hear, the crack in her voice nearly breaking the heart that’s currently not so happy with me. “Just breathe. Clay went to grab Cohen from the nursery. He’ll be here before you know it. Just…stay with me, Knox. Stay with me. I can’t…” A hot teardrop hits my forehead. “I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.”
It’s as if she’s read my thoughts. Tears of my own well up. I think of the time I almost lost her, a memory I’ve carried deep down in my soul, so I never forget the lesson I learned.
I can’t lose her. Not again. Not like this.
I’ve made so many damn mistakes in my life. But loving Amelia? That’s my greatest accomplishment.
“Dad!”
The feminine voice confuses me for a moment because I don’t have daughters. I was never that lucky. When Andi’s concerned face enters my vision, I close my eyes for a quick moment, grateful that all my kids, no matter how grown, still call this house their home. Because if these are my last moments, my last memories, I’m comforted in the fact that this house is filled with my boys, their wives, and an ever-growing brood of Wellington children I haven’t had enough time to spoil.
At the same time, it’s the fact they’re all here that makes me want to stay that much more. Because even though I made countless mistakes as a parent, my sons make up the other half of my world, and life without them wouldn’t have been worth living. I wasn’t always the father I should have been, and though I’ve spent the last five years making up for it, it hasn’t been enough. I’m not sure it ever will be.
Branson, the headstrong chip off the old man’s block who was always there, yet for some reason, I couldn’t see the man he’s become even though he’s exactly like me—for better or worse. From the day he was born, I loved him more than life itself. They say you don’t know love until you meet your firstborn, and it’s true. I knew I loved Amelia. I hadn’t known how much more my heart would expand until the first time I heard Branson cry. I spent my life molding him into the man I wanted him to be. Who I thought he should be. Never once did I realize how hard I was pushing—or that some part of me was trying to make up for the fact that he didn’t have my name. Far too late, I learned what it’d done to him, and to this day, I don’t know if I’ve forgiven myself. I haven’t had enough time.
Knox, my namesake and the son I lost for nearly a decade because of my own foolishness and pride. I don’t know if I’ve ever hurt Amelia the way I did when I pushed our son away, and I haven’t had the time to make it up to her. To him. He’s back in my life, as my son, because he found what I did: the love of a good woman. I haven’t had enough time.
And my youngest boy, Cohen, the one son I didn’t seem to screw up, though I’m pretty sure I can thank my wife for that. I’d nearly ruined two sons. She wasn’t letting me ruin her baby boy. I certainly haven’t had enough time with him.
Through it all, she’s stood by side. She’s been my rock, my lifeline, my everything even when I was too stubborn to see it. I haven’t had enough time.
I haven’t had the time to make amends. I need more time. I need more…
I love my boys. But as darkness envelopes me, it’s Amelia I see.
Always.
Only ever Amelia.
It’s true that Amelia and I didn’t always have it easy. In fact, I fucked up royally along the way. But now that death seems to be knocking on my door, I see beyond all my regrets, and not a single dreadful memory lingers. Because while those moments mattered and helped shape who I’ve become today, those aren’t the memories that give me the desire to live. Instead, flashing before my eyes are a lifetime’s worth of memories of my wife, my sons, and my entire family who’s loved me through it all.