CHAPTER 25
Riggs
“Breathe.”
She’s sobbing so hard she can hardly catch her breath. I’m holding her, rubbing her back. Everything about this sucks. I remember getting the news about our mom. Worst day ever.
We need to get out of here.
I manage to get her back to the hotel and into my room where I make her a cup of hot chocolate from the fully stocked kitchen.
It was a choice between coffee, soda, alcohol, or this, and chocolate seemed like the best fit for what she’s going through.
It’s a while before she finally runs out of tears.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she says, holding the mug close to her chest.
We’re facing each other on the sofa in the living room, my hand on her knee. It seems right to maintain contact with her. “I can see how you would think that. Do you want me to call Rhonda?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll tell her later.”
“I’ll let Ash know we’re going to skip the show and ask him to let Rhonda know we made other plans.”
“Thanks. I just need some time.”
She’s been staring at the floor this whole time but suddenly, she looks up. “Does this make me a terrible friend?”
I give her knee a squeeze. “Don’t do that. Trust me, it doesn’t end well.”
“Do what?”
“Second-guess yourself. Let’s stay focused on your mother. You regret coming here because…”
“Seriously? I could have been with her.”
“How?”
She shoots me an incredulous look like she can’t believe I’m challenging her. “What do you mean how? I would have been there when she—”
“It’s Friday,” I point out cutting her off. “It sounds like she passed when you would have been at work, so you would have found her when you got home. Nothing would have been different.”
I can see she’s thinking that through, so this is a good time to throw another question at her. “How do you see what’s happened?”
Her brows draw together. “My mother’s gone. What way is there to see it?”
“How has she been over the past several months? Were the meds making her sick? Was she miserable? Could she sleep? Was she exhausted, tired, depressed, scared?”
Again, she’s thinking.
Before she can answer, I continue. “She’s not any of those things now. She’s free. Her suffering has finally come to an end and she’s happy now.”
She mulls that over for a minute before turning to me with, “You really believe that?”
“I do. I’ve given this a lot of thought.
You will, too, and you’ll come to your own conclusions.
Give it some time. But as for coming on this trip, put yourself in her shoes.
You’re the one with cancer and you have a daughter who has no social life, no life of any kind because of you.
How do you feel about that? How do you feel about your daughter having to work so hard and having to give up everything just so she can take care of you? ”
“I don’t know.”
“C’mon, you do too. How do you feel about it?
” I give her a second to consider what I’m saying before I press further.
“I think you know, so let’s move on. You just got some good news from your doctor.
You have hope, not for yourself, but for your daughter.
Maybe you’ll beat this and she can have a life again.
You want that more than anything. She’s your daughter, and nothing is more important to you than her happiness.
Now your little girl has an opportunity to get away for a few days and be with people her own age, friends she can have fun with, and in Las Vegas no less.
Are you excited for her? Are you relieved that she gets a break from taking care of you? ”
“You make it all sound so terrible. This isn’t helping.”
I can see this is upsetting her, but I keep pressing.
“Think about it. You’re the burden and your little girl gets a chance to do something girls her age do all the time—have a life, even if only for a few days.
I think that means everything to you. I think you forget about the pain, the nausea, the fight to keep going, and you go to sleep for the first time in a long time with a smile thinking only of her.
For the first time since your little girl spent a weekend at a ski lodge in California, you fall asleep truly happy.
Would it have been different if you fell asleep to the sound of your daughter’s sewing machine, knowing she’s going to be up for several more hours working her ass off?
Could you fall asleep happy then? Don’t you see?
Coming here was the best gift you could have given her. It was—”
She sets her mug on the coffee table and lunges forward, throwing her arms around me with fresh tears in her eyes.
Her cheek is pressed against my chest as she convulses with a sob.
I’m not sure what to make of it, but I gently stroke her back not knowing what else to do.
Did I push too hard? Maybe it was too early for this conversation and she wasn’t ready yet.
After a moment, with her head buried in my chest she whispers, “Thank you.”
I pull her into me wrapping her up in my arms. “I just wanted you to see the truth.”
I feel her arms come loose, just enough for her to look up at me. “I love—” She stops, pulling in a shallow breath. “I mean… what I meant was I really appreciate what you just said.”
I think she almost told me she loves me, but I’ll chalk that up to emotions.
She’s still in my embrace so I give her a squeeze as a way of saying she’s welcome.
The awkward moment is over, and to my relief, she rests her cheek against me again and we just sit here for a while.
It’s nice and feels right. I continue rubbing her back with, “It’s going to get better, I promise. ”
* * *
I bite back a groan as I check my watch. We must have fallen asleep. It’s a little after two in the morning and she’s been nestled into my chest, our legs intertwined as I’m sprawled out on the sofa.
She feels good on top of me. I love the warmth of her body and I could lie here like this all night. If only that were possible—but she stirs, probably because I lifted my arm to check the time.
I can feel her breath on my skin at the opening of my shirt.
After a moment, her chin tilts up. She blinks, then rubs her hand across my pecs.
Her lips are parted as her breaths quicken.
All thoughts leave me as a new sensation takes over.
The air is thick with it—like two magnets being pulled to each other beyond their control.
Heat fills me and I lower my head. Our lips are so close. Those soft, soft lips.
Her eyes say yes. I lean in, and our noses touch.
A rush of adrenaline sends my heart racing.
My nose travels down until my lips brush across hers.
She closes her eyes and releases the softest moan.
I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to, and right now, I don’t want to.
I kiss her. I really kiss her, with passion and caring and sympathy all rolled into one overwhelming emotion.
After a moment, just enough of me knows this is a terrible idea so I start to pull back, but she reaches up and grabs my face and pulls my mouth to hers, kissing me eagerly with so much hunger and desire I’m lost. That tiny part of me that questioned all of this just evaporated into thin air and the only thing I know is how bad I need this.
But, more importantly, I think she needs this even worse.
We’ll just have to figure it out later.