Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
ROWAN
I’ve been driving for five days.
Five days of highways blurring into each other. Gas station coffee. Rest stops. Audiobooks I’ve barely paid attention to.
I thought if I just kept moving, something would call to me.
But nothing has, and I’ve somehow ended up back in Illinois.
The Chicago skyline rises in the distance, familiar against the gray afternoon sky. My chest tightens as I drive through the suburb I grew up in. Tree-lined streets. Tidy lawns. The same bakery my nanny always took me to after school on Fridays.
I don’t remember deciding to come here.
I guess my heart did.
After making my way closer to the city, I pull up in front of Emily’s townhouse and cut the engine, not immediately moving. I haven’t told her I was coming. But within seconds, the front door opens and she runs outside.
I step out of the van, and am instantly assaulted by my best friend’s embrace.
“Oh, my god. You’re here. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”
I sigh, relishing in the love I always feel around her. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“But why are you here?” She pulls back and I meet her gaze.
Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with Northwestern emblazoned across it.
It reminds me of Hayden’s faded Northwestern t-shirt, and I have to fight back the tears.
“I promised I’d be home for your birthday.” I shrug.
“My birthday isn’t for another four months.”
“I guess I didn’t want to be late,” I choke out.
“Oh, sweetie.” She pulls me into her arms again, and the tears come.
And not the quiet, dignified kind. The kind that have been locked up tight for days, waiting for permission to be set free.
“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. What have I always told you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do. Now say it.”
I push out a long breath. “I’m a tough bitch.”
“Damn straight you are. Now come inside.” She drapes her arm around my shoulders and ushers me into the familiar living room. “I think this calls for some day drinking. In the immortal words of the great Jimmy Buffett, ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere.’”
I let out a wet, broken sob.
God, I’ve missed her.
An hour later, after a much-needed shower, I’m sitting at Emily’s kitchen island with a half-empty glass of rosé. Sunlight filters through the blinds, a welcome sight for January. Chicago is normally gray and depressing this time of year.
Not today.
I wonder if it’s the universe telling me this is where I’m supposed to be.
“So tell me,” Emily begins. “What happened?”
I shake my head, unsure where to start with this story. So much has happened since I last spoke to her. Growing closer to Hayden. My breakthroughs with Presley. Our yes day. Our yes night. But that’s not why I’m here.
“He told me he loves me.”
She sucks in a breath, feigning aghast. “The nerve.”
“Em, I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” She winks before she tempers her playful expression. “I assume his declaration wasn’t well-received.”
“What choice did I have?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You could have told him you love him, too. Because I know you do. You wouldn’t be the hot mess you are right now if you didn’t.”
I fidget with the stem of the wine glass, averting my gaze. “You know why I couldn’t do that.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“Because of this.” I gesture to my scar. “He’s already lost his wife. His kids lost their mom. I will not be the next woman they bury.”
“I could die tomorrow.”
“That’s not the same.” I scoff weakly.
“Isn’t it?”
“Not even close,” I respond, although my voice lacks conviction.
She studies me for a long moment, the silence unnerving me. “You know, for someone who’s spent the last year preaching about living in the present, you’re still letting the future dictate a lot of your decisions. Including this one.”
“I’m just being realistic.”
“No. You’re being stubborn. There’s a big difference.”
“He’s already lost so much,” I argue once more.
I’ve repeated these words so many times over the past few days they sound like a broken record. But it’s the only thing that’s made the ache in my heart even remotely bearable.
“I can’t put him through that again.”
“And you don’t think he’s going through something similar right now?” she retorts. “You didn’t even give him a choice. You made the decision for him.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because what if he didn’t choose me?”
The question slips out before I can stop it, and the kitchen goes quiet.
“He’s not like Landon,” Emily soothes, her eyes soft and full of understanding.
I swallow hard, instantly transported back to that hospital bed, staring at the man whose ring I wore, his expression pale and distant after my cardiologist laid out the risks and complications of my prognosis.
I don’t think I can sign up for that.
As if I was simply an insurance policy with unfavorable terms.
“You don’t know that,” I tell her.
“Maybe not. But based on everything you’ve told me, Hayden sounds like a good person.”
I stare at the light pink hue of my wine, unable to come up with anything to say in response. She’s right. Hayden is a good person. One of the best people I’ve met in a long time.
And it makes my heart ache even more.
“Did you tell him?” she presses after a beat.
I don’t need to ask what she’s talking about.
I know.
The transplant.
The fact that his wife’s heart beats inside me.
“No,” I respond softly. “It wouldn’t have made a difference.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Or it could have made all the difference.”
I give her a tight smile, fighting back another wave of tears threatening to fall. “I guess we’ll never know.”
She sighs, covering my hand with hers. “Listen to me, Rowan. You are not temporary. You are not a tragedy waiting to happen. You deserve to be happy just like everyone else. Deserve love like everyone else. Deserve those happily ever afters we read about in our dirty books.”
I laugh, but it’s brittle. “Except you’re forgetting one important detail.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t get a happily ever after.”
“What makes you say that? Because you might not live to be a hundred and have tons of babies? Who the fuck cares about that? Hell, some of my favorite romances don’t end with a wedding and babies.
It ends with them finding happiness in each other and themselves.
Being present. Being happy in the now, to hell with ever after. ”
I try to find comfort in her words, but it’s hard when I know what my future looks like.
Or my lack thereof.
“So what’s your plan?” she asks after a protracted silence, sensing I need to talk about something else.
“I have no idea. I drove for days, hoping something would feel right.”
She arches a perfectly manicured brow. “And?”
“Nothing did.”
She nods in understanding.
But being the good friend she is, she doesn’t ask if nothing felt right because I never should have left.
“Do you want to stay with me while you figure things out?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course not. You’re my ride or die. Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Always.”
I grab her hand and squeeze, grateful to have someone like Emily in my life. Right now, she’s all I have.
“Thanks, Em.”