He settles next to me, intertwining my fingers with his own. “Are you feeling any better?”
“What are you really asking me?” No point in dancing around it anymore.
Dylan chuckles, but his laughter lacks mirth. “Are you still leaving?”
“I think it’s best.”
“I think that’s a bullshit answer and a cop-out.”
I huff, my anger rising. “This coming from the man who snuck away in the middle of the night. That’s rich, Dylan.”
“I was wrong, Poppy. I regret doing that. Hell, I looked for you every year for three years, trying to atone for what I’d done. Wanting one more chance to make it right. To love you the way you deserve.” He cups my face, nuzzling my lips. “I don’t understand. These past few weeks have been amazing. Perfect. I can’t be the only one who felt it.”
“They were perfect, but they aren’t real, Dylan.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I overheard you speaking with Susan.”
“What did I say?” The poor man looks perplexed at my admission.
“She mentioned you didn’t want more kids, and you agreed. But you said I wanted one, and you’d give me one because I deserved a family.”
“And I will.”
“I wouldn’t allow it. I don’t want you to father a child as some variety of penance. That’s not fair to anyone—not you or me or Marissa or a baby.”
“Is that why you’re leaving?”
“Not entirely. It’s just one of many reasons I know I don’t belong here.”
“Can I give you a few reasons why I think you do?”
I offer a sad shake of my head. “You’ll say all the right things and my heart already wants to stay.”
“Good. Listen to your heart.”
“I did. Once before. And it shattered. This time I have to let my head lead.”
“Lead you away from me. Poppy, I hate this.”
“I wish it were different.”
“It can be anything we want it to be. But you have to be here.”
“Dylan, if you cave, then you’ll spend the rest of your life unhappy. The same for me. No more compromises. You said yourself that we shouldn’t settle.”
“I’m not settling.”
I press my fingers to his lips. “What kind of person would I be if I forced you into a life you didn’t want? All the things I dream of having, you’ve already had. The marriage, the child. You’re not wrong for not wanting to relive it, but I’m not wrong for wanting to experience it.”
“I told you I’d give you anything you want, Poppy. I mean it.”
“I want you to want those things, too. Not accept them as part of a life with me. But, since that isn’t the case, I have one request. I want you to live the most beautiful life, with your amazing daughter. I want you to build castles of memories together.”
He flops back onto the mattress, scrubbing his face with his hands. “So that’s it, then? It doesn’t matter what I want because you’ve already made up your mind.”
“I’m doing what’s best for everyone.”
“No, you’re not. You’re doing what’s best for you, because I guarantee you leaving isn’t the best thing for me. Or for Marissa.”
“Dylan, please don’t make this harder.”
“I get it. I did what I thought was best a decade ago, when I left you in the middle of the night. But it was an enormous mistake. I missed out on all those years. But hey, reciprocity is a bitch, isn’t it? I deserve this, and the worst part is I know it.”
“That’s not what this is, Dylan. I’m not vindictive.”
He reaches up, twisting a strand of my hair around his finger. “No, you’re not, but you’re decimating me, regardless. Just think on it, Poppy. You can’t just up and leave tomorrow.”
I pluck at the blanket. “To be honest, that’s what I’m planning to do. Why wait? Waiting will only make it more painful, and it’s excruciating now.”
He sits up with a huff, his foot tapping on the floor. “You’re right. It is excruciating. For us both.” Dylan leans against the headboard, and I see him struggling with what to say. “What about your Yule festival? You’ve been prepping for weeks. You’re just going to miss it?”
“It’s going to be amazing. It doesn’t matter if I’m here or not.”
“Actually, it does matter. But you don’t believe me.” He stares at the ceiling, and even in this low light, I see the brightness in his eyes. “Wow. Huh. Well, I’m not one for goodbyes, as you know. I have business out of town early tomorrow, so I’ll be gone when you wake up.”
I wipe at a few tears. “Okay.”
“I have one request.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t say anything. You don’t know what my request is yet.”
I want him to beg me to stay, fall to his knees and ask me to marry him. I want him to be giddy at the idea of having a family with me. I know my decision to leave hurts him, and he would likely agree to anything in order to change my mind.
But his words earlier today ring clear in my head. There is no middle ground in these decisions. This isn’t about a choice of pizza toppings. This is life plans and one of us will have to make major concessions if we stay together. Concessions that we will regret later.
“What’s your request?”
“I want to make love to you tonight, in the bed I bought for us. Make it good enough to last for all the nights I’m going to have without you.”
He holds out his hand and I accept it without hesitation. I know that one night of lovemaking won’t fix anything, but I crave the feeling of his body against mine.
Without a word, he leads me to the master bedroom, easing me onto the mattress.
We don’t speak the entire time.
I guess there’s nothing left to say.
“I love you, my Sunshine Girl. Please don’t leave me.”
I open my eyes, expecting to see his handsome face, but the bed is empty. As promised, Dylan is gone.
The sun streams through the window, made more brilliant by the piles of snow.
I sit up, trying to recapture the fragments of dream floating around my brain. My mother, foster mother and Merry were all there, and none were too happy with me. I can’t recall the exact words, but I remember the sentiment.
I’m not a curse. I’m a blessing. Marissa and Estelle are alive because of me, not in spite of me.
As for Dylan, a future with him in it is far better than one without him.
One without Marissa.
Perhaps future plans are nothing more than a series of compromises, carving an alternative path that’s even more beautiful.
Either way, I need to speak to Dylan. And I need to get into town for the Yule festival.
I jump into the shower, letting the scalding water kick start my blood and releasing a hissed curse as the spray hits my wounded wrist. It’s a minor injury, but it makes everyday activities like hair brushing and dressing a battle royal.
After five minutes, I give up, winding my long hair into a topknot and sticking a hat over my head. There. It’s not pretty, but it’ll do.