Chapter 30
I findmy parents and Koen laughing and chatting in the kitchen after I shower. This guy …
Who meets a woman’s parents, proposes, makes her cry out in bed, and saunters downstairs for breakfast without a care in the world?
My future husband. That’s who.
“Are you feeding my sausage-eating fiancé oatmeal and blueberries?” I grin, sliding into the nook next to him.
My parents, wrapped in matching white robes, laugh.
When I make eye contact with my mom, she smirks.
Oh god … she heard.
“I just asked your mom and dad where they get their protein.”
My dad winks at me while drinking what looks like a large glass of celery juice.
“Yeah. I’m sure you were.” I rest my hand on his leg and lean in to kiss him.
Excitement radiates from my parents. I love that they’re so happy for us and not upset that we were a bit loud last night.
“I think I’m going to show Koen around town today since I want to run a few errands,” I announce, reaching for the cup of tea Mom made for me.
“Sorry. I already invited him to work with me. I have a new growing medium I want to show him.” Dad eyes me like he’s called dibs.
Koen shrugs. “Sorry, babe. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Fine,” I fake grumble. “What about you, Mom?”
“Sorry, love. I have a consult in an hour. Maybe we can meet for lunch? In fact,” she glances at her watch, “I need to get dressed and get going. Why don’t you drop me off, and then you can use my car today.”
“Sounds great.” I give Koen one last kiss. “Don’t have too much fun playing in the dirt with my dad.”
He winks.
“If I can shift a few things in my schedule this afternoon, we can pop into a few bridal stores,” Mom suggests, rinsing her glass at the sink.
Koen beams. There’s no other word.
I return a smile that mirrors his. “I’d love that.”
After I dropmy mom off at work, curiosity leads me back to my favorite apothecary. I’m surprised it stayed open after so much economic uncertainty over the past ten years.
“Can I help you with anything?” a woman with brown skin, blonde dreads, and gold ear gauges asks while she waters the plants.
“I’m just checking things out. I used to work here.”
“Oh, really? How long ago was that? I’ve been managing it for seven years.”
“Twelve years ago. Do the Kettlemans still own it? Margaret gave me my first job here. I was sixteen.” I twist the cap off one of the tester bottles and wave it under my nose.
“No. They sold it. The new owner hired me to manage it. I pretty much do everything.”
I chuckle. “I know how you feel.”
“I don’t mind. I make twice as much as I did at my last job.” She slides the stepladder a few feet to the right. “Do you still live around here?”
“No. I live in Austin.” I admire the propagation wall. “Do you go to tradeshows with the new owner? I got to go to one with Margaret. It was so much fun.”
She laughs. “Mr. Milloy doesn’t go to tradeshows. I see him in person once or twice a year, is all.”
I slowly turn toward her. “Mr. Milloy?”
She climbs down and sets the watering can behind the counter. “Yes.”
With a hard swallow, I offer a nervous smile. “Price Milloy?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
Why does everything about that man make my heart ache? A good ache. A bad ache. And everything in between.
“I uh … yeah. I know him. Knew him.”
“I don’t know him that well, but he’s been very generous to me. Edward Goff, who owns the coffee shop across the street, said he’s a successful banker or some sort of investment guy. And his wife’s with a big advertising firm. But you probably know that.”
I narrow my eyes. “Edward’s wife?”
“No. Mr. Milloy’s.”
By the timeI make it to my mom’s car, I can barely catch my breath. Did I even say goodbye to the woman at the store?
Price is married.
No. Was married.
There’s no way he’s married now. A married man doesn’t receive a cancer diagnosis and leave his wife to find his first love.
Why?
Why would he not tell me about her? It’s been twelve years. I never expected him to remain single, even though I did.
Finding an address for Price Milloy in Rittenhouse Square doesn”t take long. I check the time. I have an hour and a half before picking up my mom for lunch—plenty of time to drive by his place.
When I get there, I can’t resist parking down the street and walking to the entrance. He’s living in Austin. Surely, he sold this residence. Yet, I can’t walk away until I know for sure.
I press the security buzzer to the high-class condo. Seconds later, a woman answers softly, “Yes?”
“Uh, hi. I’m looking for Price Milloy.”
Nothing.
Maybe the speaker’s broken.
“I’m sorry. He’s unavailable.”
“Oh. I’m an … I’m an old friend visiting my family here for the next day or two, and I thought I’d surprise him. Are you his wife?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know when he’ll be home?”
Another long pause.
Then I hear what sounds like a sniffle.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
Again, she sniffles. “I’m sorry. He’s not here. And I have to go get our daughter and take her to an appointment soon.”
Our daughter …
This isn’t real.
I take a step away from the building.
Our daughter …
I shake my head.
Our daughter …
Somehow, I manage to return to my car where I sit staring at his place for the next hour. My thoughts die as tiny, muffled echoes before they reach my true consciousness. It’s been twelve years since the pain has been so severe that my whole body surrenders until I feel numb. When I can no longer feel anything, and the well of tears runs dry, I put the car in drive to pick up my mom for lunch.
“Hey! How was your morning?” She hops in and shuts the door. But the second she sees my face, her smile vanishes. “Scottie, have you been crying?”
I narrow my eyes as if I don’t understand her question.
“Scottie?”
“He has a child,” I whisper.
“Who has a child?”
“A daughter.”
“Scottie.” Mom rests her hand on my leg. “Who? What are you talking about?”
Three people know—my mom, dad, and sister.
And I don’t want to see the look on her face when I tell her, but it’s unavoidable now. So many things are unavoidable now. Life is eternal even if living is not. The past can never be erased or forgotten.
“Price.”
Deep lines trench across my mom’s forehead. “Sweetie, you saw Price today?”
I slowly shake my head, feeling eerily calm and resigned. “Price is in Austin. He works part-time at Drummond’s.”
“What?” Her confusion intensifies.
“He showed up, seemingly out of nowhere. He was diagnosed with terminal cancer. And he moved to Austin … for me.”
“Scottie, you’re not making any sense. Price Milloy is in Austin?”
“He left Philly. He left his doctors and their advice. And he searched for me.”
“He has … cancer?”
I nod once.
“And what does he expect you to do for him?”
I meet her gaze, and the pain begins to dissolve the numbness. With a shrug, I murmur, “I don’t know. Be his friend. Love him. Accept him and his decision not to do chemo.”
“His decision to die?”
My brow furrows. “His decision to live.”
“Did he get a second opinion?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you tell him?—”
I shake my head. “He’s healing.”
“Is he seeing doctors there?”
“No.”
“Then you know he’s not healing. Tell me you know that.”
I give her a sad smile. “I don’t know that. What if he is? He believes he is.”
She frowns.
“But I … I didn’t know. He has a wife and a daughter.”
“What kind of man leaves his family like that? Do they know about his cancer?”
Again, I slowly shake my head. “Mom, I didn’t know until today that he has a wife and child.”
She squeezes my hand. “Does Koen know about Price?”
With a nod, I gaze into the rearview mirror at the car behind me. “I have to go home.”
“What about dress shopping?”
“I can’t think about the future until I fix the past.”
Several hours later,Koen and my dad return home. While my mom makes dinner, I take a hot bath. After two soft knocks on the bathroom door, Koen cracks it open.
“There’s my beautiful bride. Do you think it’s bad form for me to join you when your parents are just a flight of stairs away?”
My gaze lifts to his.
“Why the sad face?” He sits on the edge of the tub.
“Price has a wife … and a daughter.”
Koen’s eyebrows draw together. “He what?”
I’m back to feeling numb. I’ve been in and out of this state all afternoon.
“Did you call him?”
“No.” Even my voice is numb and lifeless. “What would I say? Hey, did you know you have a wife and child?”
“More like, what the fuck are you doing?”
I grunt a painful laugh. “I’ll let you have that conversation with him.”
“What will your conversation with him be? Don’t pretend you’re not going to say anything.”
Here it comes, that wave of emotion that’s been out to sea for the past few hours. It’s ready to crash onto the shore, and I can do nothing to stop it because I can no longer keep this from Koen.
The tears come fast and hard before I get the first word out of my mouth. “I’m going to tell him about the baby.”