My Sweetest Agony (The Sweetest Lie Duet #1)

1. Ivy

IVY

M ost little girls dream about their wedding day.

The stunning white lacy dress.

The beautiful, fragrant flowers.

The poignant music.

The magical walk down the aisle.

To the perfect man standing at the altar.

The exchange of vows that mean love will last forever.

They certainly don’t dream about saying “I do” to an anonymous driver in a uniform when he asks if you accept delivery of your fiancé’s ashes.

They don’t sign for and receive a cardboard box containing everything left of their soulmate with trembling hands.

Their tears aren’t of soul-crushing agony.

Those little girls have a dream .

I am living a nightmare .

Lightning streaks across the pitch-black sky, splitting it open the same way my heart has been and casting a bright light across the dark patio where I stand frozen in place—just like I have been since Drew died.

The delivery driver turns and races back down the walkway to his truck through the driving rain that has continued all evening and has only seemed to increase since I opened the door. Almost as if the storm senses the tempest raging inside me and wants to match its ferocity.

Rolling thunder moves through me in a catastrophic wave, rattling my ribcage and drawing out the sob I managed to contain while that poor man stood here and handed Drew over to me, knowing what this box contains.

He knew what he was delivering. I could see it in his eyes—the apology, the pity, the sorry written all over the way he looked at me when I opened the door. But he couldn’t understand the painful irony of delivering what I hold in my hands today.

Yesterday, I might have been able to handle it.

Tomorrow, it could have been bearable.

Literally any other day but today…

When I should be having my first dance with my husband at our reception right now, surrounded by our friends and family.

When I should be the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life at this exact moment, instead of lost in a black abyss of agony.

When my entire future is supposed to be spread out before me and wide open to a thousand magical things with Drew as my partner and by my side.

When he should be carrying me across this threshold as his wife…

Instead, I’m carrying this cardboard box that holds all my hopes and dreams and trying not to fall apart completely out here while the storm violently reminds me of the reasons I know I will.

Because there are too many unanswered questions.

So many things that don’t make any sense.

I stare up at the seething sky—bright flashes, booming thunder, an angry deluge soaking the yard and street beyond it.

To some, it might feel like a cleansing rain.

It might wash away the surface layers of dirt, nourish the grass and flowers—and under normal circumstances, I would see it that way and relish it—but not tonight.

Tonight, all I see is my despair.

Each streak of lightning illuminates the billow of black clouds when all I want is some enlightenment about how it came to this.

How? How? How?

Another sob slips from my lips, this one swallowed by another crack of thunder, this one so close it shakes the ground and vibrates through my bare feet.

Why?

Why the hell did it have to be him?

I’ve asked the question so many times.

Begged for answers from whatever higher power might be out there.

And a month later, I have none .

No explanation for why Drew was even in that part of town that night.

Nothing that can tell me why he ran that stop sign.

He was the most conscientious person I had ever met. Always meticulous, focused, and thorough in how he did everything . From making love to treating his ER patients to driving…he never left anything to chance. And he was always the best at what he did.

So, lying to me. Being so distracted that he would run a stop sign and?—

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes closed as the warm summer rain splatters my skin and the box. Tears streak down my face, combining with the fat, driving drops until I can’t tell what is from me and what comes from the sky anymore.

After four years, countless promises, and the dream I was so sure had become my reality, all I’m left with is this.

My hands tremble around the box, and I take one last look at the storm outside and kick the door closed. Water drops to the wood floor as I take unsteady steps across the living room to place the wet cardboard on the mantle before I do something stupid—like drop it.

Drop him .

Oh, God…

He’s really in there.

Agony wraps around my chest like a vise, the familiar stranglehold that steals all the air from my lungs, the same way Drew and our future together were stolen from me.

I choke on a sob as I struggle to draw in a breath that only brings Drew’s scent with it—spearmint from his natural shampoo and soap mixed with that crisp, lightly antiseptic smell that always clung to him even after he left the hospital and showered.

My vision fades in and out as I stare at the box, seeing Drew’s warm grin and crystal-blue eyes instead of what he is now…

My legs give out, and I collapse in front of the empty fireplace, where there isn’t any heat from flames to reach the chill in my soul.

Even if there were, their warmth couldn’t fill the emptiness, the massive, gaping void I’ve felt in the center of my chest since I got the call that night that took everything from me.

For a second, I’m tempted to strike a match, light the stack of logs, and throw myself into them, to let myself become ashes like Drew is now, so we can be together again?—

The shrill ring of my phone on the end table beside the couch drags me away from the very dark place my mind was traveling to, where I’ve spent so much time over the past four weeks.

It rings a second time, the sound so damn loud in the otherwise silent house.

A house that used to be so full of music and laughter, that used to be so warm, instead of this cold, hollow place it’s become.

I can’t even have any flowers in here—the first time in my entire life that my home doesn’t hold any of that beautiful life. Because I can’t bear to see it.

I don’t want to move.

I don’t want to have to heave myself up off this floor.

A third ring makes me wince.

If I don’t answer it, she’ll just keep calling.

For the past month, it’s been the same routine. The same calls. And I learned that first week that if I don’t pick up, Marlo will be at my front door within twenty minutes.

Using my hands braced against the brick fireplace, I stagger to my unsteady feet, swiping at the tears, as if she can somehow see them.

Thank God she can’t .

If she could, she would be here in fifteen, and the thought of her racing across Philly, worried and distracted, makes panic twist my empty stomach.

Marlo’s name flashes across the screen, and the fourth ring sounds.

Shit.

My hand trembles as I snatch the offensive device off the end table and swipe to accept the call.

I release a long breath to try to steel my voice, at least making an attempt to get my lungs to cooperate enough that it isn’t readily apparent I’ve been sitting on the floor sobbing.

If I don’t, she’ll know. She always knows.

I bring my phone to my ear and lower myself onto the couch. “Hi…”

“Hey, girl!” Something rustles in the background, and she grunts slightly, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

Likely a completely inappropriate curse.

Considering she’s at work at the shop right now and any customer could overhear her, I should probably be more worried about it, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“Sorry, just trying to get some restocking done before we close.”

Which is where I should be.

Instead, I’ve abandoned the business Nonni and Mom spent so many years building into what it is today…and left it in Marlo’s hands.

Acid that tastes an awful lot like guilt climbs my raw throat, and I swallow it back with a wince.

“Take as much time as you need…”

It doesn’t matter how many times she says those words to me; I can’t help but feel like I’ve failed Nonni, Mom, and their memories by not being able to get my shit together enough to go in.

Buds & Blooms has always been a second home to me.

I took my first steps in the greenhouse with them watching, but putting together bridal bouquets and dealing with husbands stopping in to purchase flowers for their wives proved far too difficult when I did make the single attempt to return to work since Drew’s death.

I inhale deeply, trying to fill the lungs that failed me earlier and prevent myself from sobbing again because I can’t do company tonight, no matter how well-meaning Marlo is.

And if she hears my voice crack, if she thinks for one instant that I’m anywhere near crumbling, she’ll be here in an instant.

“Was everything all right the rest of the day?”

Not that I think much has changed since we spoke a few hours ago, but things can get crazy this time of year, with people doing summer planting, throwing parties, plus all the weddings…

So many beautiful flowers for so many stunning brides.

My eyes drift to the box on the mantle—pale brown with darker spots where the rain outside hit it during the driver’s race from the truck to the porch and into my hands. All while I stood frozen at the door, for who knows how long, watching the storm.

A boulder lodges squarely in my throat, and this isn’t something I can so easily swallow down.

Not tonight.

Drew would have loved the flowers I chose for our ceremony…

White peonies—a symbol of new beginnings.

What we should have had…

Together.

Marlo makes some very unbecoming grunting noise, then sighs. “Of course. Trina and I have everything under control. I was just calling to see how you are doing.”

What she’s really asking is if the ashes came.

I keep staring at the box, trying not to think about what’s in it.

It’s just a cardboard box.

Just a box.

Just a box.