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How could I be so stupid to let that happen again with Lily?
I replay all our conversations as I lean back in my office chair, propping my feet on the desk and folding my hands over my stomach. There’s got to be a way around this. This sick feeling in my stomach won’t go away, and I can’t convince myself that leaving Lily alone is a good thing. We got along. We clicked. We had something. When did things change? When did she decide she didn’t want me?
She’s terrified of the cancer. Understandable. She pushed me away because she doesn’t think I’m up for it—or she doesn’t want to burden me with caring for her. That’s understandable too.
It’s also fucking incorrect. Caring for her wouldn’t be a burden; it’d be a privilege.
I stare at a spot on the wall, seeing nothing.
There’s something else. There was a moment in the shower, when I told her I didn’t want kids. I frown, staring at a cobweb in the corner of the room. She…wants kids? Maybe she never met someone she wanted to have kids with, and she feels like she’s running out of time? And the cancer complicates everything?
Grunting, I drop my feet from the desk to the floor.
If we’d been dating longer—even as little as a couple of months—it would be different. Maybe then I’d have a chance at proving to her that I care. Maybe then, if I showed up at her door and begged her not to push me away, it’d be less “psycho stalker” and more “worthy partner.”
So what are my options?
I can respect Lily’s decision and back off. Let her deal with her own demons and keep my distance. The thought makes me ill. I want to be beside her. If I could pick up a weapon and fight her cancer in her place, I would. But what right do I have? We weren’t even officially together. From the start, she was clear that she didn’t want anything serious.
Alternatively, I can try to convince her that I don’t care about the illness, and she’s worth the effort and heartache and care that it’ll take to get through it together.
If she wants kids, I…
I squeeze my eyes shut. I feel like I lost a daughter already, and that pain hasn’t faded in the years that have passed. If Lily wanted kids, would I be willing to open that part of my heart to her?
I don’t think I can. A breath leaves my lips and my mouth tastes sour. If Lily wants children, I’m not sure I’m ready to be the man for her. Years ago, I decided I wouldn’t be a father. Nothing has changed.
The phone rings. I glance at the screen and see Lee’s name.
When I put it to my ear, he doesn’t even wait to hear my voice. “I’m outside,” he says. “Taking you out to the Grove.”
Huffing, I agree and hang up to grab my shoes. Lee’s father owns the Grove. Hamish doesn’t drink, and claims he bought the bar years ago so he’d have an excuse to hang out with his buddies without having to get drunk. If you ask me, it sounds like a recipe for disaster and relapse, but to each their own. Sometime over the past year or so, it’s not just his buddies that sit in the old dive bar full of grizzly, wannabe bikers. Candice and all her friends regularly have girls’ nights there, and even the older generation make regular visits.
It helps that Margaret, one of the twins who owns the hotel, has Hamish wrapped around her little finger. I never thought I’d see the old man in love until I saw the way he treats Margaret.
Maybe there’s hope for us all.
Lee is sitting on his big, gleaming Harley Davidson motorcycle outside. I jerk my head to my car. “I’ll take my car.”
With a nod, Lee starts the engine and pulls out of my driveway, then waits for me to follow. The parking lot is mostly empty, which makes sense, because the only days it’s full is when there’s a girls’ night going on. I pull into an oil-stained parking space and get out, locking the car behind me.
Lee meets me at the door, the soft leather of his jacket creaking as he pulls it open. “You looked like you needed a drink when you left Blake and Candice’s.”
I snort. “That obvious?”
Lee just grins and enters the bar behind me.
Three regulars who are as much fixtures as the stools they sit on glance up as we enter. Recognizing the two of us, they turn back to their drinks without so much as a greeting. I follow Lee to the bar and take a seat, accepting the beer that’s placed in front of me.
I brace myself for Lee to ask me about Iliana, but he jerks his head at the television. “You catch the game?”
Not being a huge fan of baseball, I shrug. “Nah.”
We slide into easy conversation, talking about nothing at all. Certainly not my love life—or lack thereof. It’s not until a long while later that Lee clears his throat and says, “You know Fallon’s sister?”
“What about her?” The basket of fries I ordered a few minutes ago slides across the bar as the bartender nods at me. I bite one in half and exhale when it nearly burns the skin off the roof of my mouth.
When I finally look at Lee again, he just shrugs. “She seems nice.”
