Chapter 56
fifty-six
Daylight gives way to darkness a little too early in December for my liking. My hands clench the handles of Ozzy’s wheelchair. I push him beneath a canopy of barren trees entwined with twinkling holiday lights.
We park at the railing that encloses the ice rink in Millennium Park, and I seat myself on a wooden bench beside him. From here, we can watch the ice skaters glide in wide circles around the perimeter, while silhouetted skaters twirl in the center of the glowing white ice.
We’re bundled for the cold weather in scarves, hats, and quilted down coats. I’ve tossed a thick blanket over his lap for extra warmth since there’s a crispness in the air, signaling the threat of more snow.
“I have some bad news,” I say with a heavy heart.
“I’m afraid I have some of my own. But you first.” Ozzy places a reassuring hand over mine.
“My deal fell through. It’ll be a little longer before I can buy the house.” I gauge his reaction. The last time we spoke, Ozzy seemed happy I would give the old house the love it needed.
He clucks his tongue, indicating disappointment. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you worked real hard on that client.”
“I’m sorry too.” My guilty gaze falls. It was cocky of me to plan so far ahead, to be so sure I would get what I wanted.
“My news isn’t great either,” he admits. “But know I wanted the house to be yours.”
My heart seizes at his words, even though I’ve been expecting this. I’ve been mentally preparing for weeks. Still, I can’t bring myself to glance at him. If I do, I may fall apart.
“I’ve received another offer, and the truth is, even though I’ve been putting off selling it, it doesn’t make financial sense anymore. I need to let it go.”
I nod, though I’m still processing. The house will never be mine.
Remaining stoic, I suck in the crisp air and lift my chin. I’ve come to realize things happen for a reason, and there will be other houses. Maybe even one that’s better for me, although I can’t fathom the thought right now.
“I understand,” I murmur, telling him what he needs to hear. “It’s a good thing. Even if I’m not the one to fix it up, I hope another person will. Maybe even a family.”
“That would be nice.” Deep crease lines sprout from the edges of his eyes and the corners of his mouth. “I knew you’d understand, but I hope it won’t change our relationship, because I’m kind of dependent on those chocolates. It’s an addiction.”
He shakes his body, like he needs a sugar fix. I laugh and lean into him, bumping his shoulder with mine.
“And I’d sure miss you something fierce,” he adds.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me and my chocolates.” I place my arm around his shoulders and squeeze.
I understand the reason this happened. It wasn’t the house I needed in my life; it was Ozzy. We needed each other.