The Words We Leave Unspoken(2)

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I stand and thank Dr. Rand, although I really want to punch him in the face.

“Are you okay, Gwen? Can I call someone for you?” he asks, empathy written all over his face. I know that he’s trying to be nice. I know that he really is sorry this is happening to me. But for some reason, the look of pity in his eyes makes me even angrier.

“I’m fine,” I say a little too harshly, as I sling my designer handbag over my shoulder and march out the door.

I reach my car in the parking garage before the dam breaks and the floodgates open. I rest my forehead on the cold, leather steering wheel and sob. I feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself and then I instantly feel angry for being so damn selfless at a time like this. I’m overcome with so many different emotions, so many different worries, but I keep coming back to the same fear. Telling John. How am I going to tell John? How do you tell your partner in life, your soul mate, that you won’t be growing old together after all?

I am suddenly afraid to go home. I can’t go home and pretend that everything is okay and yet I can’t bring myself to tell John this devastating news. Telling him will make it all real and I’m just not ready for it to be real. Not yet.

I’m not ready to die.





Chapter 2





Charley


I hit the Bluetooth button on my steering wheel console as I weave through Friday morning traffic. I’m late, again.

“Hello?” I yell into the car’s interior, fighting against the noise of the rain beating on the windshield and the Seattle traffic that encompasses my small car.

“Charley?” I hear my sister’s voice. I am stunned that Gwen’s calling me. We haven’t spoken in over three months, which is the longest we have ever gone without talking.

“To what do I owe the honor of this call?” I ask.

“Look, I know that I haven’t been returning any of your calls, and I’m sorry about... you know... the incident,” she says. “I’m in the city and thought maybe we could spend some time together. I could ask John to deal with the kids for a night or two and we could... I don’t know... go out to dinner or something. Have some fun? Just you and me. What do you think?”

This doesn’t sound like Gwen. She doesn’t just make plans on the fly. These things were scheduled weeks ahead of time, methodically outlined on the family calendar that hangs on the side of her refrigerator. And she hardly ever leaves Olivia and Max overnight. But, just hearing the sound of her voice now reminds me of how much I miss her and so I snatch up her offer like a ravenous dog chomping at a dangling piece of meat.

“Okay, sure. Do you want to stay at my place? I mean, it’s not much, but you’re welcome to stay.”

“That would be great,” she says. “I might need to borrow some clothes and maybe a toothbrush. This was kind of spur-of-the-moment.”

Just as I am about to speak, some guy in an SUV cuts me off.

“Asshole,” I yell while I flip him off. Gwen is silent on her end of the phone and so I mumble an apology. “You can borrow whatever you need.” I glance at the time on the dash of the car. Damn, I’m so late. “I’m on my way to work now, but I’ll be home by five.”

“Works for me. See you at five,” she answers quickly and a little too upbeat. Something is definitely off, but I push it aside and say goodbye, feeling genuinely excited about spending time with my sister.

Minutes later, after paying a hefty twenty-five dollars to park in the garage across the street from the office building where I work as an assistant in a top-notch financial firm, I collapse into my desk chair and boot up my computer.

“Charley?” I hear his stern voice through the intercom and immediately my heart starts to race.

“Yes, Mr. Preston?” I respond, my breath still short from my morning rush.

“Can you come into my office, please?”

“Yes.” The way he says “please” makes me worry that he’s angry.

I grab my iPad from my desk drawer and hit the power button with my index finger as I walk gracefully to his corner office, straightening my black pencil skirt along the way.

I knock softly before opening the door and stepping inside.

“Close the door behind you,” he says.

I do as he asks and move to the leather chair near his desk as I look out the wall of windows that are slightly fogged and streaked with rain.

“Charley, you’re late again,” he says with disappointment.

“I know, I’m sorry. Traffic was a bitch.” I smile and shift my attention to his face, where I watch his furrowed brow soften. Anyone else might be intimidated by Grey Preston.

He pushes his chair back from his desk and stands. “I thought you took the bus,” he questions with suspicion and I suddenly feel like I’m in the principal’s office. I usually do take the bus, but I was running late. I am about to say this out loud, but as he walks slowly toward me, his brown eyes darken and I know without question that he is not mad. My breath hitches in my chest as I take in his perfect, masculine features. His freshly shaven jawline, his glistening dark hair cut short around his neck and ears, but still a little long on top. The way his body fills out his dress shirt, giving just a hint of the sharp definition that hides beneath the fabric. His dark slacks hang just right from his hips, shaping his perfect rear-end.