Page 45 of I’m Already Gone

“You fucking her?” Marcus asks.

“No, and I don’t plan to,” I say sharply. “I helped her carry some boxes up to her office the other day. She’s making it seem like it was a bigger deal than it was.”

Marcus arches his thick eyebrows suggestively, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I don’t think she got the memo,” he says with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Too bad. I’m not interested,” I grumble, focusing on finishing my sub.

The truth is, I haven’t dated anyone since my divorce. I don’t allow myself to think about Lily and whoever she might be bringing into her own bed. The thought alone makes me shudder.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, but there’s no judgment in it. “Yeah, too bad.” He studies me for a moment before he speaks again. “Listen, man… it’s okay to move on. You know that, right? You deserve to be happy.”

The problem is, my heart has only ever belonged to one woman.

Marcus leans forward, his voice dropping, the casual air gone. “You know, eventually, Lily is going to move on. She’s a catch. Any man would be damn lucky to have her. You have to face that reality, man.”

And that’s the cold, hard truth that’s been gnawing at me. Her leaving me felt like I was being torn in half, but the thought of seeing her genuinely happy with someone else, building a new life, maybe even having more kids after Ollie… that’s a different kind of pain. A permanent one. And that is what scares me the most.

Lily

“Damnit,” I grunt when I drop the rolling pin to the floor.

I’ve been weaker than normal since the treatment, and I barely have enough strength to hold anything more than five pounds. Last night, a glass of water slipped through my fingers. The doctor explained the side effects and what to expect, but I didn’t think anything would happen this quickly.

The kitchen door opens, and Lacey, one of my employees, comes rushing in. “Are you okay?” She looks around frantically, and I have to smother a laugh.

“Yeah, sorry. I dropped the pin,” I say, grabbing for it and taking it over to the sink.

“Oh, okay.” She sighs in relief.

The bell above the door rings, and she walks out to help the customer. While she handles the front, I go back to rolling my dough. Even before starting chemo, I use a stool to sit while I work. Thankfully, my excuse seems to be accepted when I tell my staff that getting older makes my feet ache more. But in reality, the chemo is kicking my ass.

The kitchen door opens. I turn, expecting to see Lacey.

“Hey,” I say cautiously to Ethan.

“Hey,” he says with a casual grin as he strides further into the room, his dark navy slacks hugging him just right. Navy blue has always been his color; it brings out the vibrant sparkle in his blue eyes.

“I brought you something,” he announces. He hands over an iced latte, my favorite drink from the coffee shop down the road, and a plastic bag. “One iced latte and something to help brighten your day after being sick.”

I take the drink and the bag, feeling a rush of gratitude. “Thank you, Ethan,” I say.

His face softens.

I set the drink down since I can’t stomach it at the moment, and glance inside the bag. It contains a box of vapor-release tablets for the shower, a bag of cherry cough drops, a box of Kleenex, and a lavender-scented lip balm.

A bittersweet smile crosses my lips, tugging at a memory of how he used to care for me. I rub my sternum slightly, trying to ease the familiar ache that surfaces.

“I figured you could use a little restock,” he says with a smirk.

I chuckle lightly. He knows me well. I somehow run out of these essentials faster than I do toilet paper when I’m sick. But I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. Not yet.

“Thank you, Ethan. This is incredibly thoughtful,” I say.

He nods, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You’re welcome.”

An uncomfortable silence envelops us, like a thick fog. Our gazes lock, and for reasons I can’t quite understand, we hold that connection.

He clears his throat as if he realizes just how long he’s been staring. “I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced, but I happened to be in the neighborhood—” He hesitates, shaking his head. “That’s not entirely true,” he admits with a light chuckle. “To be honest, I wanted to check on you.”