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He stopped, glared at me, and resumed his quick pace.
“Stay out of it,” he snapped, barreling around a woman half his age.
“How do you stay in such good shape?”
That earned me another fiery look, but he didn’t slow down.
“I told you the doctor said I’m not gonna die anytime soon.”
“Why would you want to die?” Even at my lowest point, I never wished to be dead.
He stopped so abruptly I had to tiptoe to keep from bumping into him. “She’s my wife.”
His wife?
“Why does she live on the streets?”
His mouth twisted down, pain clouded his eyes. “Twenty-three years ago, she disappeared. I came home one evening, and she was gone. Her purse and keys were by the door. The water in the kitchen sink was running, the dishwasher wide open. I thought she’d been abducted.”
“How did you find her?”
“Luck,” he said bitterly. “That alley is where we kissed on our first date fifty-one years ago.” His expression turned bittersweet. “We’d end up there on walks or on purpose. It wasn’t romantic, but it was our spot.”
The wistful man in front of me looked nothing like the ornery Mr. Hardaway I’d come to know.
“A few days after she went missing, I went there because I missed her.” A fine sheen covered his eyes. “She’s lost her mind,” he choked out. “Sometimes I think she knows me, but most days, I’m a total stranger.”
“What did the doctors say?”
He scowled. “She screams bloody murder any time I’ve tried to take her out of that alley. I brought the best doctors I could find, but it was useless. They even sedated her, but when she woke up back at home, she screamed and beat her head against a doorframe until she bled. So I brought her back to the alley. I’ll never forget the way she smiled at me.”
I tried to wrap my mind around what he’d told me. “And she’s been living there all this time?”
The lines carved around his eyes seemed to grow deeper. “I’ve tried. You don’t know how much.” He shook his head. “We have a Park Avenue apartment, but we live in an alley.”
My mouth dropped open. “You stay with her?”
“Of course I do,” he said, affronted. “I only leave her to buy her favorite things and shower. There are a few others who live on the streets that look out for her too.”
This is love.Real, unconditional love.
“I could take her home. Have her sedated all the time. But my Stella is happy. I can’t take that away from her.”
“So what do you do with all the cake?”
His lips curved upward. “She’s always had a sweet tooth. Some days, it’s all I can get her to eat.”
“I wish there was something I could do.”
“She liked the pot pies. Ate all of them.”
“I didn’t have them when you came back.” Somehow I felt like I should’ve known, even if that was impossible. “And that’s why you get so mad when I don’t have the right cake.”
“She doesn’t know, but I do,” he said unapologetically.
“It won’t happen again,” I promised. “Can I meet her?”
He took a couple of steps back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know about that.”
