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I smiled at how he looked like a teenage boy trying to ask his crush out.
“I want to create a dream for my mom. She is very sick, and … and she‘s dying.”
Dying? Mrs. Sanchester is dying?I wouldn’t have expected anything was wrong.
“She got too busy taking care of me because of what I was going through, making sure I was sane every day at rehab—”
“Rehab?” I cut in immediately.
“No questions,” he said, not looking at me.
I held back from rolling my eyes and listened.
“Well, my mom spent each day with me. None of us saw it coming. She was diagnosed with stage four cancer. When we found out, it was too late. It has already spread through many parts of her body.” His voice was losing strength.
Cancer?She looked healthy, young, and her hair was still intact.Or is it a wig?
“Chemo didn’t work for her. She doesn’t have much time left, and I want to make her happy.” He looked down, rubbing his palms together like it could ease whatever pain he felt inside.
I was tempted to go to him and wrap my arms around him, but I restrained myself. I did not understand his pain. There was just something gut-wrenching about losing someone, knowing he wouldn’t ever see her again. All he had left were memories and tears. The hole in his heart could never be filled, no matter how hard he tried to be happy. It made me want to burst into tears.
“I want to give her something, make her happy before she goes. I don’t want her dying and worrying about me. Things didn’t end well with the first woman in my life.” He paused and didn’t say anything for a while.
He met my eyes and then looked away quickly.
“I told myself many times on that altar to just go on with it—maybe married life would change Sofia—but I couldn’t for some reason. It was a last-minute decision.”
“Adrian knew it was going to happen,” I pointed out.
“I told him I couldn’t get married to Sofia right from the beginning. He didn’t know that was going to happen in the church.”
“Then, why did you pick me? Did I look old to you that day?” I’d suspected he could have gone for someone closer to his age.
He fought a laugh at my question.
“After I announced to everyone about my lover and the pregnancy, my plan was to walk out of the church and find a way to convince my mom I wasn’t ready to move on yet. I don’t know what came over me, but I saw you there at the back, and I had the urge to make everyone believe me, so I said she was in the church.”
Yeah, and that I happened to be his lover.
“Why make up such an excuse? You could have just walked out of the church,” I asked, my anger getting the best of me as I recalled that day.
“It just slipped out. I guess I needed a reason,” he mumbled.
“Why me?”
He paused for a moment and stared at me, his expression softening and hopeful. I wished I could read what was going on inside his head.
“I don’t know. Trust me, I was about to walk out of the church before I saw you.”
I scoffed and shook my head at how delusional he sounded.
“I’m sorry for what happened, Chloe. I really am.”
“Your apology doesn’t change anything,” I said quietly.
“I know,” he continued. “Right now, to my family, we are very in love, and you’re carrying my baby. My grandma is very excited about the baby.”
“And you think this is right?” I asked. “How will you explain no baby to her in nine months?”
