Home > You Can Have Manhattan(47)

You Can Have Manhattan(47)
Author: P. Dangelico

Pushing through the mass of bodies, the table where all the Lazy S employees were seated came into view. Everyone looked to be having a good time, the tabletop littered with empty glasses and bottles. Spotting Drake, I walked up and wished him a happy twenty-second birthday. He tapped his lips, asking for a kiss.

“Boy, you better hope Scott didn’t catch that,” Pete, Laurel’s husband, remarked.

Chuckling, I planted one on his cheek instead.

“Pete, have you seen Scott?”

“Playing pool,” he said and went back to arguing with another guy over whether Carson Wentz was going to make it through the entire NFL regular season schedule for the Eagles.

I headed for the tables, anxious to see Scott and tell him all about my conversation with Josh, rounded the corner, and stopped short. He was leaning against the wall with a pool stick in his hand, smiling while Misty set up for a shot. Neither of them noticed me standing a few feet away.

“So…how’s married life? You’ve been strangely coy about it.”

His smile dropped and a hole opened up at the bottom of my stomach, a trap door that led to an abyss.

He scratched the back of his head and left his hand resting on top. “It’s amazing.”

Misty turned and gave him her full attention. “Really?” she said, sounding skeptical.

“Yeah…I love her. I’m in love with her. Best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The bottom fell out. He loved me? He hadn’t even told me.

I stepped closer and Scott’s head snapped in my direction, Misty’s followed. Scott’s face broke into a grin and his eyes got that soft look in them, the same look they got when he was about to kiss me. Pushing off the wall, he reached me in four strides, the pool stick forgotten. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me until I softened and molded my body to his.

“Did you hear?” he murmured. I nodded and he smiled. “It’s true.” He swallowed and I watched a bit of uncertainty flash across his face. “I do. I love you. I’m in love with you…wanna get out of here and you can tell me about your trip?”

Words eluded me. I was still processing everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours and all I could manage was a slow nod while a mirror image of his smile grew on my face. Taking my hand, he glanced over his shoulder and waved at Misty. Then he led me out of the bar.

We drove to Old Faithful Road and parked. The geyser blowing at night was downright magical while the inside of the truck was dark and cozy.

“I was going to tell you before you left,” he said staring out the windshield, “but I didn’t want that to––”

“You didn’t want to influence what happened in El Paso?”

He looked at me, nodded.

“I love you, Scott. Nobody has the power to change that but you. Not Josh. Not anybody else.” Crawling over him, I straddled his lap, took his face in my hands, and kissed him. “I’m crazy in love with you, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this morning before I left.”

We went home after that and Scott made love to me. And once we were done and eating potato chips in bed, then I told him about Josh. How I drove away from his home satisfied, knowing he was doing well in spite of everything that had happened. I told Scott about the strange coincidence of seeing him at the gas station. How Josh had told me that what had happened with my grandfather had shaped him, had inspired him to want more for himself. How he often thought about me and hoped I was happy and loved.

Then I told Scott what I said to Josh. “I’m in love and I am loved. And that’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”

 

 

Chapter Twenty-One

 

 

Sydney


The sun was out that day and trees had begun blooming all over the property. It was early afternoon when Scott walked into my office looking lost, half-catatonic. I’ll never forget it. His face drawn tight, as immovable as the Tetons he loved. He must’ve come straight from a ride because he was sweaty, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and flecks of hay were all over his jeans.

My stomach folded like a cheap tent, a major sign that something was very wrong. I should’ve known, though. I really should have known it would go this way. But a girl can dream, can’t she?

This wasn’t the first time fate had intervened to set fire to the fantasy I was fostering. This time had been different, however. For one hot minute, I’d actually believed Scott and I were going to make it, defy the odds and live somewhat happily ever after. The prospect of losing him for good made my entire body ache.

“What’s wrong?” I said, standing abruptly, my chair crashing backwards from the sheer force of it.

“My dad…” His guttural voice withered away.

I knew then that everything would change and not for the better. I’d been dreading this day for months. While Scott had been blissfully unaware of the situation, it had been slowly consuming me.

Tears began to stream down my face. I came around the desk and threw my arms around him, planted my face between his pecs. His arms hung limply at his sides at first. But as the numbness wore off, they slowly began to lift and wrap around me, squeezing so tightly I thought I felt a rib snap.

“How?” I had to ask. Even though I’d known what was inevitably coming, I hadn’t imagined it would happen this quickly. Well under the twelve-month time frame Frank had been given to live.

“My mother said he collapsed at home and hit his head.”

It was time to come clean and the knowledge sat as heavy in my gut as a bag of rocks. It had to be done, though. Was I terrified of Scott’s reaction? Yeah, I was. I loved him. I didn’t want to lose him and there was a very good chance that I would.

“Pack a bag. We’re leaving for New York in an hour,” he said and placed a kiss on my forehead before pulling away.

“Wait…”

Almost at the door, he turned to face me. I paused to drink him in––to commit to memory the soft, sweet, vulnerable look on his face. Like he cared. Maybe the last time I’d ever see him look at me that way again.

“Did your mother mention anything else? Why he collapsed?” I pushed the words out despite my tongue feeling swollen and useless, and my lips tingling.

He gave me a quizzical look. “No,” he said. “I’m assuming a heart attack or stroke.”

Preparing for the worst, I took a few steps back, shifting uncomfortably on my feet, my knees shaking. A lifetime’s worth of habits, every trick I’d used in the past to keep an iron grip on my reactions flew out the window, taken from me when I needed them most.

“He had cancer, Scott.”

Scott blinked, no sign in his expression that he understood. In his eyes, I could see his mind searching for answers that weren’t there, explanations––anything to make sense of what I’d said.

“Cancer?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’d you get that idea?”

“He told me.” His brow wrinkled and I curled my shaking hands into fists.

“He told you? My father told you he had cancer?” His voice began rising and any hope I had of him understanding the position I was placed in evaporated. It was starting to sink in and I knew what was coming next. It was going to be brutal. Like standing tall on a shoreline in the face of an approaching tidal wave. I knew when it finally hit it could very well kill me, but there was no escaping it. Frank, God rest his soul, had robbed me of any chance of resolving this peacefully.

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