Chapter 37
Scottie
“How do you do it?”I murmur, ghosting my finger over the lid to Price’s record player after he pauses and takes a long breath.
A woman named Amelia has his child and his heart.
It’s perfect. And tragic.
“Do what?”
“How do you show up in my life after no word from you for twelve years and look at me like you never stopped loving me? Yet you fell in love with a woman who ran you over, and you have a child … a whole life with her.”
“I guess I’m lucky in love but not in life.”
I sit on the opposite end of the sofa, and a spiral-bound notebook catches my attention. “Are you journaling?”
“Sort of. Among other things.”
“Other things?” I hug my knees to my chest.
A wry grin settles on his lips. “Have a look.” He nods to the notebook.
“You want me to read your journal?”
“I don’t care if you read it. It’s basically a hard-to-follow story of my marriage interwoven with my mental shift since my diagnosis. But that’s not what I want you to see.”
I lower my feet to the ground and slowly reach for the journal.
“I can draw,” he says when I open it to the first page.
It’s a cat in a window. And it’s incredibly detailed. “Price, this is …” I flip through more pages, not stopping on the ones with writing. They’re too personal and not for my eyes. “How did you not know you could draw?” I chuckle, admiring his detailed drawings.
“I never took the time to listen.”
“To listen to what?” I glance over at him.
A victorious smile graces his face. “Ah … the student has become the teacher.”
I surrender with a slight nod and a knowing grin.
“I’ve never taken the time to listen to my body. I don’t mean just acknowledging the pain. Imagine all the gifts people have but don’t take the time to listen. I never sat with a pencil in my hand and no purpose—I never doodled. It’s tragic.”
Again, I thumb through the drawings. “Is this your wife?” It’s a woman with an open book in her hands, but she’s looking up from it with her lower lip trapped between her teeth.
Price smiles. It’s the kind of expression one has when they think of someone they love—a beautiful smile.
“Yes.” He laughs. “After she hit me with her car, she wouldn’t leave my side at the hospital. Whenever I glanced at her, she looked at me with a cringe. I don’t think she read a single page of that book. And I knew …” He breathes a content sigh. “I knew she would leave a mark on me that had nothing to do with the accident. It’s as if she knew the accident was meant to be, but she didn’t want to suggest it while I still had broken bones.”
I love this story, except for the part where he’s here with me and not with her.
“Does Amelia think you’re dead? Does your daughter?”
His smile fades. “No. I left her with a note.” He rubs his hand over his face. “A fucking note. I said, ‘I can’t do it. Please forgive me.’ Then, I went to New York to stay with a trusted friend. I told him death was knocking at my door and that I needed a safe place to escape. For two months, he gave me space. He didn’t question the foods I ate, the pain I endured, or my need to be alone. I told him I’d let him know if the time came to call Amelia, if I felt I was losing the fight. But I didn’t get weaker; I got stronger. And I knew seeing you would reset my life because you are peace and gratitude. You are serenity. You embody the essence of what it means to live without the fear of …”
“Of what?” I whisper.
He narrows his eyes, gaze cast downward. “Death.”
My heart skips. This man sees something greater than I’ve ever seen in myself.
“Scottie, do you remember on our first date, we discussed the mayor”s passing? He was only thirty-seven. I said it was scary to think of life ending so soon. And you said you didn’t fear death because?—”
“Nothing is easier than not existing,” I whisper with a smile.
Price smiles, too. “Yes. What you fear, you draw near. I stopped fearing death, and I focused on life. The tiny details. Every single thing I put into my body. Every emotion. Every twinge of pain. Every memory that brought me joy. I dove headfirst into gratitude and focused on living instead of dying.”
Words fail me. I’m honored and heartbroken. I’m hopeful but scared. He’s living my life better than I am. “Price, I don’t know what to say, but I can’t shake the uneasy feeling I have about you being here and your wife and daughter living with uncertainty about your whereabouts or if they’ll ever see you again. Doesn’t that bother you?”
He slowly nods, eyes narrowed. “This is such a selfish journey. I believe it when people say you can’t take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself. Amelia loved me too much to see that her fear was killing me along with the cancer. She couldn’t bear the thought of me not doing the chemo. She couldn’t give me space, mental or emotional.
“Most days, I feel normal. Scottie, I’m living. I know it. I’m winning. So I don’t let my mind linger on how they’re feeling. Every time it tries to go there, I redirect my thoughts to all the times we were happy before my diagnosis. I pretend I’m on a long business trip, and they’re missing me but excited for the day when I return.”
I understand him, but I also know what it’s like to love him. I know what it’s like to miss him. “You’re amazing.” I pause to let that sink in. He needs to understand that he is so amazing and brave. I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life. Yet, he’s still human. And as much as he wants to keep his feelings at bay, I know he can’t. Not entirely. “I’m sure it’s hard to fight the pain of missing them. Because you must miss them. Right?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Do I miss them? So much that thinking about it feels as debilitating as the cancer. Do I regret leaving when I did and the way I did? No. I’m going to go home and be with them again, and I have to hope that they will be so relieved that I’m alive and well that they will forgive me for what I felt I had to do to stay alive.”
“And me?”
Price lifts his gaze.
“Will you tell your wife about me? Does she know I exist? Does she know you bought the store where we met?”
Realization ghosts along his face. “You went to the store.”
I nod. “Why did you do that?”
He slowly shakes his head. “It was a business decision. They were going out of business. Real estate is a good investment. And that was the only place in town that carried those specific crystal butt plugs.”
I snort. “Stop.”
Price scoots closer to me, pressing my hand between both of his. “You were my first love. You showed me what it felt like to fall in love. And it’s how I knew Amelia would be my wife. You are a good person—a truly compassionate, positive, shining soul. And you loved that store. And I loved our love story, albeit short. So I bought it to keep it open, to keep that summer alive forever, and to keep a tiny piece of your light in my life forever because I think some of the best parts of Price Milloy come from the summer he met Scottie Rucker.”
I thought the tears were done. I was wrong.
He smiles while I wipe my face. “No. Amelia doesn’t know about you. She doesn’t even know I own that building.”
I sniffle. “That’s not right, Price.”
He nods. “Honesty is virtuous. You have me beat in that department. I won’t try to pretend otherwise. But compassion often lies somewhere between the truth and the omission of truth. I didn’t tell you the truth when I entered the store months back, but you knew something wasn’t right. Yet, you didn’t push me on it because, deep down, you weren’t sure you were ready for the truth.”
I pull my hand from his and dig through my purse for a tissue. “It’s been twelve years. She deserves full disclosure.”
With an easy, thoughtful nod, he hums. “She deserves a lot. And I believe I will live to give her everything. Are you marrying a man who will give you everything?”
I can’t speak past the emotion thick in my throat, so I nod.
Price waits, unafraid of the silence.
I’ve never sat this long in silence with another person.
Eventually, my composure returns, and the words come to me. “I’m marrying the man who feels secure enough to let me be a little in love with another man.”
The tiniest smile touches his lips.
“I’m marrying the man who I trust with the most vulnerable pieces of myself. I never thought I’d tell another soul outside of my family about the baby I lost before telling you first. But I had to tell Koen because I’ve given him my heart, which means I trust him with everything in it.”
He’s the one who will carefully glue those vulnerable pieces together, gently wrap them in tape, and always see me as whole.
Just the mention of his name makes me miss him. So I slide my phone from my purse and text him to come pick me up. Then I stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder as Price stares at the open journal with his wife staring back at him. “It’s time for me to go home.”