“Cervical cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” I pause, letting out a breath. “I got the greatest gift of all from the short time we had together.”
I reach down and tuck the blanket under Eslin’s feet a little tighter.
“And I don’t like how easily you see me when I’ve been able to hide from so many people for more than twenty years.”
She smiles faintly, her eyes warm. “Occupational hazard.”
There’s a pause, her gaze steady. “But you don’t have to worry about me. You don’t have to fuss over me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Hope stirs, unbidden, sharp. “Do you promise?”
She stills, looking straight into my eyes. “Promise what?”
“That you aren’t going anywhere.” My heart kicks up, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I don’t know… maybe, once this all settles, once Marlow is fully acclimated to—”
I stop myself.
Because I already know how this sounds.
Like I’m asking her to wait.
Like I’m offering her a maybe when she deserves so much more than that.
“If you’re asking me what I think you’re asking me…to wait for you until you fully turn over your portion of the team to Marlow,” her voice softens, but her tone is resolute, “ the answer is no.”
She sits up a bit and holds my gaze and my heart breaks just a little more before she even begins to speak. “Grant, I’ve spent my entire life waiting—to be picked, to be taken in, to be wanted. And what I’ve learned is, I have to choose me,first. Or I’ll keep breaking my own heart…waiting.
“So while I admire what you’re doing for your daughter and for yourself…I won’t wait for you while I am reminded, every day, I wasn’t worth choosingfirst.”
I swallow hard, the air in the room suddenly too thick, too sharp to pull in.
She’s right.
She deserves more than that.
More thanme,asking her to wait around like some afterthought. Like her worth could be measured in patience and sacrifice.
I’m ashamed. Ashamed those words even left my mouth. She deserves a man who’d choose her first. Every time. Without hesitation. Without conditions.
I force a breath, my voice rough with the truth of it. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. Goodnight, Eslin.”
I turn, each step toward the door sinking in deeper, the finality of it pressing heavier with every movement. A cold, suffocating fog settling over me.
Before I reach the door, I hear the rustle of the blanket and the soft shuffle of her getting up from the couch. Then she calls out to me—her voice quiet, but steady.
“Grant?”
I stop, turning back so fast I nearly stumble. Just hearing her say my name feels like a gut punch wrapped in silk.
“Yeah?”
“It was a great night, though, right?”
I smile, but it’s tight, stretched over the ache in my chest. “Best fucking night of my life.”