What does it say about how fucked up everything is that even in the fog of grief and despair, I’m able to recognize this as the lowest point in my entire life? This is worse than everything that’s come before. Knowing I have no hope with Dee is a kick in the gut that takes the breath right out of me.
As long as she was out there somewhere, I had hope. But now, knowing she’s moved on and is happy with someone else…
I’m done.
The Uber drops me at Bianca’s complex, but I lack the energy to walk up the two flights of stairs to her place. I fall onto a bench out front that has no protection from the blisteringly hot sun that beats down on me. I can’t find it in me to care that I might be getting badly sunburned. What does that matter?
What does anything matter?
I have no idea how long I sit roasting on that bench before someone says my name. I pull myself out of the pits of despair and look up at Tara gazing down at me, brows knitted in confusion. She’s holding a brown bag, and her light blonde hair is up in a bun.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I, uh… I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Does Bianca know you’re here?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to come in?”
I don’t. Not really, but what else can I do? Broil in the sun until I have a third-degree sunburn to add to my litany of problems? “I guess so.”
She extends her free hand to help me up. “Come on.”
I take a good long look at her hand before I raise mine to take it, hoping I’m not replacing one set of problems with another by letting her, of all people, help me.
Chapter 24
DEE
Wyatt texted to tell me he was running late, which gave me more time to make sure everything was perfect for the night I’ve planned for us. Nona sent me the recipe for her famous seafood casserole, which I cooked with a tiny bit of olive oil rather than the usual ton of butter in deference to Wyatt’s avoidance of cholesterol.
I have just enough time to worry that maybe he doesn’t like seafood other than salmon, or perhaps he’s allergic to shellfish. I wonder if I should’ve even bought seafood in freaking Arizona, which isn’t exactly close to the ocean. I’ve worked myself into a full-on anxiety meltdown by the time I hear his key in the door.
He comes in and stops short at the sight of the table set, lit candles and me in a black dress and heels that I packed in case we went anywhere that required such a thing.
I spent time on my makeup and hair, which cascades over my shoulder in long spiral curls.
He drops his work bag and keys right inside the door and comes to me, sliding his arms around me and holding on as tightly to me as I do to him. “I’m so glad you’re still here.”
“Where else would I be when you have my heart? I can’t leave without that, without you.”
Pulling back, he looks down at me for a long moment before he kisses me with almost twenty-four hours’ worth of pent-up desire, despair and fear. His tongue brushes up against mine, and my knees go weak from wanting him.
He has me pressed so tight against him that there’s nothing I can do but surrender to the desperate need for a lifetime of feeling just like this.
“Dee.” His lips skim lightly over mine. “I love you. I want you. I want us, but more than anything, I want you to be happy. If you need babies to be happy, we’ll have babies. We’ll figure it out. As long as I have you, I have what I need.”
I’m overwhelmed by relief at being back in his arms and hearing his sweet words. But I’ve learned to be wary of situations that resolve themselves too quickly. “We should talk.”
He hugs me even tighter. “Let’s do this for another minute first.”
We hold each other in the soft glow of the candles I placed on the table.
When he finally pulls back from me, he says, “You look beautiful, and something smells incredible.”
“I made dinner.”
“How’d you do that when there’s almost no food in the house?”
“Instacart.”
“Ah, very industrious.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving, as always, but let’s talk first. I need to get some stuff off my chest.”
“Let me just turn down the oven, and I’m all yours.”
Before he releases me, he kisses me again, softly this time. “I want you to be all mine forever.”
I place my hand on his handsome face. “I am all yours. I had a very long day to think about going back to my pre-Wyatt life and concluded there’s no going back to before you. There’s only forward with you.”
“I feel the same way. Turn down the oven, and let’s talk about it.”
After I see to the oven, I pour a glass of chardonnay for myself and seltzer for Wyatt and bring them with me to join him on the sofa.
He’s looking at his phone but puts it down when I sit next to him.
“Everything all right?”
“I lost a patient today during a fairly routine procedure. Hell of a way to end my tenure there.”
“I’m so sorry, Wyatt. That must be horrible.”
“Having to tell family members that a routine procedure led to death is the worst part of my job, especially when there’s no good explanation for it. Sometimes things just happen that we can’t control or explain.”
“Do you worry about getting sued when that happens?”
“Always, but we have pretty airtight consent forms that spell out all the possible outcomes of heart surgery. And I always, always tell the patients I’ll give them my very best, but I can’t promise anything. It just sucks when it happens, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they sue.”
“Ugh, that’s awful.”
“It happens. That’s why we have malpractice insurance. This is the first time in my career I’ve lost a patient during what should’ve been a routine stent procedure, but I witnessed similar scenarios two other times during my residency. Both times it happened the same way. Everything was fine until it wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry it happened today when you should be celebrating the end of a successful time here and the start of a new adventure.”
“Thanks. It was a bummer of a last day, for sure. But my colleagues had a potluck going-away party for me at the end of the day, and they all signed a card. They made it a nice sendoff.”
“I’m sure they’ll miss you.”
“Enough about me. Tell me what’s on your mind, and then I’ll tell you what’s on mine.”
I roll my lip between my teeth, trying to find the words I need. “I heard what you said before about having as many babies as I want, but just last night, you were pretty adamant about not having any. I’m worried you’re going along with what I want, but maybe you still feel the same way.”
“I’m trying to pivot to this new anything-is-possible mindset you’ve taught me. For the longest time, I limited myself out of fear of what might happen. You’ve helped me see that’s no way to live, and while I still have the same concerns about leaving you alone to raise kids without a financial cushion that life insurance would provide, I, too, had a long day to think about returning to life before Dee.”