If Tomorrow Never Comes

Chapter Twenty-Three Elliott

Chapter Twenty-Three

Elliott

Mondays were Elliott’s favorite day of the week.

She always thought Mondays got a bad rap, but then again, days of the week had never meant to her what they did for other people. Cancer didn’t care what day of the week it was. Chemo didn’t care about weekend parties or social calendars. From the age of seventeen, she’d been in and out of hospitals, doctor’s offices, and infusion centers. She’d taken most of her college classes online and didn’t follow a standard Monday-through-Friday course schedule. Even now, she worked for herself and at a coffee shop that opened hellishly early, so no day of the week was off-limits.

Still, she’d always looked forward to Mondays. Maybe it was because in the early days of her parents’ bookstore, it was the only day they closed. Owning a small business was hard, and they worked all the time. But when Monday rolled around, she had them all to herself.

When she’d hit middle school, they started hosting Monday-night poker, and the house would fill with laughter and a smorgasbord of finger foods Elliott pilfered when no one was looking. As she got older, she joined the game when she felt well enough and had become a pretty decent card player.

She hadn’t been back home for a Monday, or a poker night, since the move nearly four months ago, but apparently Mondays still stuck with her because she woke up that morning in a great mood. Miraculously, she’d slept pretty well and felt fresh and energized.

The good vibes didn’t last long.

She had a meeting with Blythe that evening—the printed menus with custom hand lettering (no Melt My Fart typos to be seen) had finally arrived, and she couldn’t wait to show her. Everything was in her bag and ready to go, but with several hours to kill, Elliott had just sat down at her computer to check her email when her phone rang.

Her eyebrows shot up when she saw who was calling. Tristan Underwood was a friend from Elliott’s days as a leukemia patient basically living in the oncology ward of the hospital. Tristan had been a year younger than Elliott and diagnosed with leukemia around the same time. They’d gone through virtually identical treatments, and at the time, she’d been one of Elliott’s closest friends. Yuka was there, too, at the beginning, but with a different type of cancer and drastically different treatments. Tristan had known exactly what Elliott was going through.

Tristan lived in a tiny town several hours away, so once the inpatient portion of her treatment ended, Elliott hardly ever saw her. They’d kept in touch, even if communication had become less frequent over the years. Tristan had been one of the first people Elliott called when her cancer relapsed, and again after they were pretty sure the stem cell transplant had been successful. They hadn’t spoken since then, though ... so it had been close to a year.

When was the last time Elliott had spoken to Tristan’s mom, whose name flashed across her screen? It had to have been at least three times that long.

“Hi, Mrs. Underwood,” Elliott greeted her. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Good morning, Elliott. How are you?”

Something about her tone sent an unpleasant shiver down Elliott’s spine. “I’m good. Is everything okay? How’s Tristan?”

The shaky breath on the other end of the line told Elliott she didn’t want to hear what came next. “I’m sorry to call so early, and under these circumstances. But I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else. Tristan passed away over the weekend.”

Elliott’s hand covered her mouth. Almost immediately her eyes burned with tears. “Oh my gosh, what happened? Did the leukemia come back?”

Mrs. Underwood sniffled. “We’d just confirmed the diagnosis last week. She hadn’t been feeling well, but we hoped ... after all this time that it was something else. It was aggressive and quick, and by the time we got an answer and made a plan, she was gone. We didn’t even get a chance to start treatment.”

Hot tears slid down Elliott’s cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“We are, too. I really thought we were past this, you know? She’s been in remission so long, and ...” She trailed off, openly crying now. “It just doesn’t seem real.”

Elliott swiped her hand under her chin where tears dripped onto her shirt. No matter how intimately involved she was in the cancer community, nothing would ever prepare her for news like this. “She was such an incredible person and meant so much to me. Is there anything I can do for your family?”

“No. Tristan’s the only thing I want, and you can’t give me that. No one can. I just wanted you to know what happened, and to tell you Tristan loved you so much. You were like her big sister that year she was in the hospital, and I know it would have been a dark time for her without you. I can never thank you enough.”

“She was the same for me. She never let cancer stop her.” She’d been a bright light no matter how low the circumstances, even earning the nickname Sunshine from the nurses. It suited her then and she’d lived up to it ever since.

Mrs. Underwood laughed softly through her tears. “That was true until the end. She went after every single dream she had. Held nothing back. If there’s anything that makes this any more bearable, and I don’t say that lightly because no parent should witness their child leaving this earth, it’s that I know she lived every second of this life to the fullest. She experienced love, happiness, and joy, and I’m so grateful for it.”

“Me too.” Elliott swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Please let me know if you think of something—anything—I can do. I mean it.”

“I will. Just ... take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” Elliott said, suddenly wondering if she was really doing all that good a job. “I promise.”

Several hours and a good, healthy cry later, Elliott pulled herself together and made her way to Melt My Tart. The updated website had been live for several weeks, and the menus were the last piece of the business agreement with Blythe. Elliott was a little bummed she wouldn’t have an excuse to spend time with her anymore.

She entered the bakery, which was busier than Elliott had ever seen it. Customers occupied most of the tables, and five people stood in line, waiting. A harried Blythe rushed around behind the counter, and her eyes went wide when she spotted Elliott. Blythe frantically waved her closer, and the second Elliott was near the pastry case she said, “Thank God. Could you pop back here for a second?”

“What?”

“My closer had car trouble and couldn’t get here. I just need someone to help pour coffee and box things up. Do you mind? Just until this line dies down?”

Elliott glanced around. Why not? “Sure, I can do that.” She rounded the corner and put her purse down. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Wash your hands. Sink’s back there.”

Elliott did as she was told and spent the next hour helping Blythe with her customers. The setup here was pretty different from Starbucks, but she could follow directions. The pies, tarts, and cakes were already pre-sliced, so all she had to do was put things on plates or into pre-sectioned boxes. There was a minor snafu with a chocolate mousse brownie that ended up on the floor, and Elliott was just glad Yuka hadn’t been there to witness it. She might have cried or eaten it straight off the floor.

When they’d cleared out the line, Blythe handed Elliott a bottle of water. “Thank you so much. You saved my ass.”

Elliott leaned her hip against the back counter and took a long drink. “That was crazy. Is it always like that on Monday nights?”

“Didn’t used to be, but it has been getting steadily busier, which is why I started scheduling two of us here in the evenings. Being on my own tonight confirmed how necessary that is.”

“Agreed.”

Blythe pushed hair back from her face. “You get to take some credit for that, you know.”

That was taking it a little too far, but Elliott grinned despite herself. This was exactly why she loved this job. “Not true. Your food is that good.”

“Obviously,” Blythe allowed. “But most of the new business has been driven by online orders. Which you set up for me.”

“Okay, okay.” Elliott laughed. “I’ll own that. But really, I can’t tell you how happy it makes me. This place is the best in town, and soon you’ll be voted Best Bakery in Enjoy Omaha magazine.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears.”

“Ready to see the menus? Or do you wanna wait until you close?” They had five minutes to go, and Elliott was in no hurry.

Blythe did a visual sweep of the store and settled her gaze back on Elliott. “Now, please.”

Her enthusiasm bolstered Elliott’s excitement to show her, and she handed them over. Blythe squealed loud enough that the older couple near the counter twisted around to look at them.

Elliott winced. “Sorry. Excuse us.”

“These are so freaking perfect,” Blythe gushed, holding the bright-pink menus in front of her face. “You’re a genius, Elliott. Seriously.”

“They turned out really great. I know the custom lettering took longer, but it was totally worth it.”

“You were so right. I love them.” Blythe put the menus down and hugged her. “I’m telling everyone I know about you. You’ll be able to quit working at Starbucks in no time.”

Elliott laughed. She probably could right now, truth be told, but she didn’t mind her shifts at the coffee shop, and even as a part-time employee, she was eligible for health insurance. Unless she started turning away design jobs, she didn’t see herself leaving anytime soon.

“How about coffee after I close up?” Blythe asked.

“Sure, thanks.”

Elliott made herself useful and boxed up the remaining pastries. She stuck them in the double-door fridge in the back while Blythe walked out the final customers and locked the door behind her, flipping off the Open sign. Elliott returned to the counter and rested her elbows across the top as Blythe poured her a cup and slid it across.

Elliott took a deep breath, savoring the aroma. “Mmm. Thanks.”

“So,” Blythe said, clearing her throat. “How are you?”

Something felt strange in Blythe’s tone, though Elliott couldn’t put her finger on why. “Fine?”

“Yeah?”

She nodded and took a small sip of the hot beverage. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Elliott narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know Blythe all that well, but they’d spent a decent amount of time together. “I ... don’t believe you?”

Blythe sawed her teeth across her bottom lip and shifted on her feet. “You shouldn’t. But I promised Jamie I wouldn’t get involved.”

“Wouldn’t get involved in what?” Elliott cocked a brow when Blythe didn’t immediately respond. “We’ve established something’s up, so there’s no point in hiding it now. That’s not cool.”

She sighed audibly. “Fine. Just ... I only want what’s best for him, okay?”

“Sure.” So do I, I think.

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything, but ... whatever.” She scratched at the side of her nose and looked at the ceiling for a moment. “I know who you are, okay? I know about the night you and Jamie met and went to that baking class.”

Elliott blinked. “You do?”

Blythe nodded, looking a little guilty.

“For how long? Did you know it was me from the beginning?”

“No. It wasn’t until that day we looked at the website mock-ups. You said you didn’t like chocolate, and it jogged my memory. Jamie’d told me about you back then, and after the shock of seeing my brother so animated over a woman, I couldn’t get past the fact he said he’d met someone who didn’t like chocolate. I’d never heard of such a thing, and I didn’t connect the two until later that night, but ... I finally did.”

“Oh.” Elliott wasn’t really sure where to go from here. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it. It was such a brief meeting I didn’t expect you to know who I was, and—”

“I don’t care about that at all. I wouldn’t expect you to tell me anything about it—you didn’t know me.”

“Oh,” Elliott said again. “Okay.”

“Jamie and I are close, okay? I know what he’s been dealing with these last few months since you’ve been back. It hasn’t been easy for him, so I was just thinking maybe it hasn’t been easy for you, either. So ... are you okay?”

Shit, was she about to cry for the second time that day?

Blythe kept going. “I can’t imagine you have many people you can talk about ... this ... with.” She waved a hand around. “Because of everything with Carly and all that.”

Elliott took a sip of coffee to buy some time while she thought. From the limited interactions she’d had with Blythe, she seemed genuine and trustworthy. Jamie obviously felt the same, to have been open about this with his sister, and that only added more points in her favor. Yuka was the only person Elliott had talked to about Jamie, and while Blythe certainly wasn’t an impartial party, it could be nice to have a fresh perspective.

“Carly’s the only reason I’m alive right now.”

Blythe’s expression remained neutral. “Yes.”

“Isn’t—” Elliott reached across to rub her arm. “Doesn’t it seem horrible when you think about it? I kissed her boyfriend, she saved my life, I move to town a year later and make said boyfriend break up with her. And now he wants to be with me for real, and I think I want that, too, but how? How can I do that to her?”

The kindness and empathy in Blythe’s eyes made Elliott think this wasn’t the first time Blythe had heard something along these lines. What had her conversations with Jamie been like?

Blythe tipped her head toward the empty café. “Want to sit down?”

Elliott followed her and they sat at the same table where she had first met Blythe to discuss working together.

“You may not want my advice—and actually, I wouldn’t even call it advice. That’s what I give Jamie, but he’s my brother and sometimes he’s an idiot so I basically have to tell him what to do every once in a while. I’m in no place to tell you to do anything, but I’d love to share some observations with you, if that’s okay.”

God, to be a fly on the wall sometime when Blythe lectured Jamie. That was probably entertaining as hell. “I have no idea what I’m doing, so by all means. I’m open to anything you’ve got.”

“First things first. He wasn’t Carly’s boyfriend when you two first met. Neither of you did anything wrong that night, so let’s get that out of the way now.”

Elliott gave a little nod. “Yeah.” She knew deep down it was true, and Yuka’d told her the same thing, but it was nice to hear someone who hadn’t sworn best-friend fealty to Elliott say it.

“Second. She saved your life, yes. You moved to town. But you didn’t make Jamie do anything. He did what he thought was right, and I’m one thousand percent certain it would have happened eventually anyway. He and Carly’s relationship has always been strange to me, in that it always just seemed like a convenience thing. Even so, he’s tried hard not to be an asshole like our father, and to take commitment seriously. So when you came back to town, it didn’t take him long to realize being with Carly wasn’t the best thing for either of them. He knows you’re different, Elliott. That what happened between you two was something extraordinary.”

Elliott’s voice cracked. “It was.”

It still is.

A quiet moment passed before Blythe spoke again, her tone gentle. “You don’t have to answer this, but ... does part of you want to try with him? See what happens?”

“Part of me?” Elliott almost laughed. “More like every part of me. Everything except this voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t because of his history with Carly. But with every day that passes, that voice gets quieter and quieter, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll listen to it.”

Blythe offered her a small smile. “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me happy, but only because I want Jamie to be happy. If the expression on your face is any indication, you seem to really like him.”

More than was healthy, probably. “I do.”

“He’s extremely into you, too, if you didn’t know. Like, embarrassingly so.”

Elliott’s smile couldn’t be stopped. Hadn’t she felt this exact thing, less than a mile away, sixteen months ago? A bubbly sort of giddy excitement filling her chest at the mere thought of spending more time with the handsome blond man with the sexiest dimple she’d ever seen?

“I’m gonna say one more thing, and then I should probably head out so my four-year-old doesn’t completely annihilate my husband before dinner.” Blythe retrieved her phone and pulled up Instagram. “But I just wish you’d both stop looking at the past and consider what could happen next, because it looks like Carly has. Did you know she’s already seeing someone?”

Elliott blinked at the screen. How had she missed that?

Carly had posted the selfie yesterday, her arm extended to capture herself and the handsome, dark-haired man standing behind her, his head next to hers as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“But ... she’s only been gone a month.”

Blythe shrugged and took her phone back. “Sometimes that’s all it takes.” She arched a brow. “Sometimes it only takes one night.”

Touché.

“Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything because of that. If you have other reservations, that’s between you and Jamie. But if Carly’s the only thing holding you back, it just seems like that’s maybe not something you need to worry about anymore, you know? Love can be messy and inconvenient. It doesn’t always show up at the most opportune time, or even with the person we always thought. But that’s what makes it so magical. She’s moved on and living her life. Why can’t Jamie do that, too? Why can’t you?”

“I—” Elliott started, then stopped. She honestly didn’t have an answer for that.

“If what you and Jamie have is the real thing—even if it could be the real thing—I just worry you’ll never forgive yourselves if you let it pass you by.”

Mrs. Underwood’s sentiment about Tristan felt timely. She lived every second of this life to the fullest. She experienced love, happiness, and joy.

Something shifted. Something deep and irrevocable and meaningful, and Elliott had the urge to jump out of this chair and run to Jamie’s apartment right this second.

She wanted to.

She needed to.

Standing, she grabbed her bag and circled the table, bending to give Blythe a hug. “Thanks for the coffee,” she whispered, and headed straight for the door.

Blythe’s words scrolled through her brain as she drove straight to her apartment complex.

Love is messy and inconvenient, and you’ll never forgive yourself if you let it pass you by.

And Jamie’s from several weeks ago, sending a shiver through her, even now.

I want you, Elliott. If you decide you want to give this a try, I’ll be waiting for you .

Of course she wanted to give it a try. She’d pined after this man for over a year, and her feelings had only deepened since he’d come back into her life. Jamie was everything she never knew she wanted in a man.

Kind, thoughtful, intelligent. Observant, reserved, and a good listener. A dog lover and a tree hugger. A beer-drinking, salsa-eating runner, who brought flowers and left books on her doorstep.

After the shock of losing Tristan, it was clear no one knew the time they had left on this earth, and Elliott didn’t want to waste any more time.

She didn’t even go home first and headed straight for his building. Unable to wait for the elevator, she took the stairs to his floor and knocked, forcing her feet to stay flat on the ground as anticipation built in her chest.

Jamie opened the door. Her breath hitched at the sight of him, barefoot in jeans and a gray T-shirt, his glasses slightly crooked on his ridiculously handsome face.

He regarded her with lonely eyes and ran a hand through his thick hair. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she said, and stepped forward until her lips met his.