The Last Letter(113)

He turned around and started walking, so I followed him. The house really was spectacular. He led me to a large, modern kitchen that did, indeed, have a table and chairs. It opened onto a giant patio through a sliding glass door.

Freaking perfect house.

“You can’t build me a house.”

“Already did,” he answered, walking around the island to where the food rested.

“It’s not normal to build a house for a woman and not tell her.” I came into the kitchen and leaned back against the dark granite counters. Good counter space, too. Perfect for— Shut that thought down now.

“Yeah, well, I had this stupid, romantic notion that I’d build it and prove to you that I wasn’t leaving. And then when Maisie was cured, and everything leveled out, maybe you’d want to live here. With me. But I also know you love living on property, so I wasn’t going to pressure you, and we really weren’t ready for the move-in conversation.” He piled food onto plates. “And we both know I’m not exactly good at the whole relationship thing. I’m probably fourteen for all the experience I have in that area.” He gave me a teasing shrug.

“Is this really so easy for you?” Oh, that had come out really harsh.

The plates clicked against the granite as he set them down, then slowly turned toward me.

“No. It’s not. It’s impossible to see you, to be in the same room as you, and not want to drop to my knees and beg your forgiveness. It’s all I can do to keep my hands off you, not to kiss you, touch you, remind you how good we are together and how much I love you. It’s killing me not to take you upstairs and show you the bedroom I built just for you, if for no other reason than to get to sleep next to you. Every aspect of this feels like a knife is twisting in my gut, and the worst happened yesterday when Colt told me that I didn’t love him. That he’d thought I was going to be his dad and instead went and forgot about him, and then said I was a coward for not fixing us. And you know what? He’s right about the coward part. I can lie and say I know you don’t want me to fight for you, that I’m not even worthy of a second chance, but the truth is that I’m too scared to do anything but breathe for fear I’ll make it worse. I didn’t lose just you, Ella, I lost them, too. There is nothing easy about this, and I’m doing my best to keep it light. So do you want these damn peas? Because the website I read said they’re good to eat after radiation.”

He’d sworn.

“Peas are good.” It came out as a whisper.

“Excellent. There’s whole grain rice, too. And lean chicken, since that’s easier for her to digest.” He plated the peas. “Do I get to know what comes next? Or just wait for the insurance statements?”

“We have blood work scheduled next week. If that’s clear, then we start immunotherapy.”

A relieved smile crossed his face, but it wasn’t for me. “That’s the last hurdle, right?”

“Maybe. Hopefully. I don’t really want to hope.”

“Hope is good. Feel it. Because we have no idea what’s coming around the corner. You have to take the good when it comes, because the bad isn’t going to give you a choice.”

The kids ran into the kitchen, and Maisie slouched in one of the chairs.

“Maisie?”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Just don’t overdo it,” I said out of habit.

“Stay or go?” Beckett asked me in a whisper so the kids wouldn’t hear. He gave me the choice. He always gave me the choice.

“Beckett. Colt made the spring league soccer team,” Maisie offered, swinging her legs back and forth in the chair. “Plus, Hailey broke up with another boy, and I turned down my make-a-wish again.”

“Wait, you what?” Beckett asked, walking toward her. “Why? Don’t you want to dress up like Batgirl for the day in Denver? Or be a mermaid in the Bahamas? Work on a movie for a day with Ron Howard?”

She shrugged. “I have everything I want, and the only thing I’d ask for, they can’t give me, so they should give the wish to someone who needs it.”

He crouched down. “What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter now. Are we going to eat?”

I didn’t lose just you, Ella, I lost them, too.

His words hit me again, twice as hard as the first time. I’d loved this man—still did, if I was honest with myself—trusted him enough to let him adopt my kids. Then in a twist of irony, I’d cut off contact to spare my heart, and in doing so crushed the twins—the very thing I’d been scared he’d do. All because I wasn’t capable of being around him and taking a full breath at the same time. He’d never been a danger to them, and maybe I was foolish, but a little distance had cleared my head, and I believed he’d always been honest with the kids. Hell, he’d been their dad in more ways than just the legal one. He hadn’t abandoned them like Jeff. He’d built them a damn house and dropped what he was doing to go for Colt even though we weren’t together anymore.

And although I’d cut him off cold turkey, he’d never once come at me with that adoption agreement to force the issue. He’d given me the choice.

And I’d chosen wrong.

I was wrong.

“We’ll stay.”

Beckett stood, sending me a look of pure shock. “You’ll stay.”