Page 115 of I’m Already Gone

She shakes her head, a fierce denial in her eyes. “I can’t think that way, and neither should you.”

“Why not?” I ask. “I have to prepare for the worst. Not every love story has a happy ending, Eb.”

“Maybe yours does,” she says, reaching out to take my hand. “You and Ethan deserve a happily ever after. More than anyone I know.”

But deserving it does not mean we will get to have one. And I cannot keep convincing myself that I will beat this thing, because we don’t really know, do we? We have to wait for the time to come when fate will decide my future. Our future.

But even if I do not get my storybook ending, who says I cannot make the best of right now? It’s just like that saying: Live each day as if it’s your last.

And I am going to do exactly that.

Ethan

I blink awake to the lively notes of “Build Me Up, Buttercup” blasting from somewhere in the house.

What in the sweet hell is going on?

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I catch sight of a vibrant cupcake-shaped Post-it note perched on my nightstand, stuck to the screen of my phone.

Baking buddy needed ASAP. Dress code: pajamas only.

My lips tug upwards. What is my little Sunshine up to? I rummage through my drawer, pulling out a pair of plaid flannel bottoms and a plain white T-shirt. I quickly toss them on, then dash into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I bark out a laugh. Another Post-it, a bright pink square stuck on the door.

Don’t forget your socks!

Slipping on a pair of socks, I leave my room. All the kids’ doors are ajar, beds neatly made and empty. Which means either they are downstairs or with their grandparents.

I jog down the stairs, eager to see what is happening, as the music grows louder. The scent of cinnamon and something sugary drifts up from the kitchen. I turn the corner, and there she is.

My Lily.

She moves with an ethereal grace in her soft, cotton, purple pants, a long-sleeved white shirt, and her feet clad in fluffy slippers. A periwinkle scarf covers her head.

I lean against the frame, my arms across my chest, watching her dance around the kitchen. It’s mesmerizing to see this sudden burst of energy, but these moments will not last forever. So, I am going to savor every second.

The track changes to “Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch” by the Four Tops. She twirls around, spatula in her hand, and freezes when she sees me.

I chuckle. “Morning, Sunshine.”

She grins shyly. “Morning.” She points the spatula at my attire. “Glad you got the memo.”

“Kind of hard to miss the colorful notes.” I wink at her. “So,” I start, pushing myself off the frame. “What’s going on?” I make my way toward her until I am close enough to block her path.

I have a sense of where this is headed. She’s trying to recreate that day, the last moment before everything went to shit. The only difference is, now, after all this time, I want her even more.

“Well,” she stammers, a blush creeping up her neck.

“Well, what?” I tease.

“I…I…um.” She clears her throat, her gaze darting around the kitchen.

“Use your words, Sunshine,” I coax, my voice dipping a notch. I lean in, my gaze locking onto her winter-gray eyes. She takes a step back. Another, and then another, until her back meets the counter with nowhere else to go.

There has always been this force, a gravitational pull, that my body reacts to whenever Lily is around. It’s almost as if she is meant to be mine. Not even divorce can ever keep us apart forever.

My hands came up, resting on either side of her, caging her in. Her eyes hold a playful challenge, almost as if she expected this.