“I don’t think anyone can understand your pain. All we can do is be here for you.”
“I wanted to be there for him,” I say.
“You were,” Emmie insists.
“I know he hung on so long because of me. He knew I wasn’t ready. They told us it would be within weeks after the chemo. Dr. Abbott said it was nothing short of a miracle that he held on for five more months. Henry kept telling me he was going to give me an anniversary. He wanted me to have that.”
“He loved you very much.”
“I wish we could have had an anniversary, just one. It would have meant the world to him,” I repeat softly.
“You were his whole world. All that mattered was that he had you in the end.”
I exhale, my chest shaking as I do. “I never realized what people went through when someone they love dies like this. I thought I did. I watched Henry go through it with his mother, but it’s so different when you’re living it. Did you know they give you a list of things you need to watch for if they choose to pass away at home?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It’s surreal. Thinking back, it’s like it wasn’t even me going through it. I feel like I was watching someone else’s life play out. When your husband is thirty years old you don’t expect to be watching for the signs it could be the end. How fucked up is that?”
“You’re going to get through this. Come to Texas with me, at least for a little while,” Emmie pleads.
Lifting my head, I smile. “I can’t.”
“Why not? We want you to, you’re our family.”
I look away; I don’t want her to see the truth in my eyes. I can’t go to Texas because Christian is there. I can’t be near him. I can’t possibly grieve for Henry with him around me day in and day out. But that’s just the thing. I should have known Emmie would see right through me.
“Colin can tell him about Henry’s passing. You don’t even have to—” Emmie begins.
“No!” I shout, turning to look her in the eyes. “You have to swear you won’t tell him!”
“I don't understand. He cares about you, too. He’ll want to help you get through this,” she argues.
“I said no! Christian might want to help me, but he won’t be able to stop himself. Eventually he’ll want us to try again.”
“Is that so terrible? You two obviously loved each other.”
“Henry’s body is barely cold, and you want to talk about Christian and me?” I can’t hide the contempt in my voice.
“I’m not saying you rush into his arms, but you’re are still young, Paige. You’re going to fall in love again.”
“Not him,” I insist. “I almost cheated on Henry with him. I won’t do that to his memory.”
“Fine, but he’s going to find out about Henry eventually,” Emmie says. “He’s already been asking questions. He knows something’s wrong.”
“Umm—” I hear Em’s mom’s voice from the doorway. “You have a visitor, sweetheart.”
I peer past her and see Christian standing behind her; he looks like he hasn’t had much sleep. I can’t speak. I open my mouth, but the words won’t come. I tell myself I need to shout for him to leave, but still, no words.
Emmie stands up, crossing the room to join her mother. “We’ll leave you two alone.”
Before I know it, Christian is standing right in front of me, alone in the room with the door closed. He crumples a piece of paper he is holding in his hand. It’s obvious, he is struggling just as much as me for what to say. “I’m so sorry,” he softly offers at last.
Finally something clicks in my head—anger—and with that I am able to find the words that have been escaping me. “Damn your brother.”
I watch as he furrows his brow. “He didn’t tell me about Henry. Trust me, I was pretty pissed he didn’t.”
“Then who?” I demand.
Christian hesitates. He looks at the paper in his hand and then back to me. “It was Henry, he told me.”
I shake my head. “You’re not making any sense, what the hell are you talking about?”
Christian quickly moves forward, shoving the piece of paper into my hand, and when he nears, I can see his swollen, bloodshot eyes. It’s obvious he’s cried recently. My heart stops for a moment until he steps back.
“Just read it,” he instructs me.
My hands are trembling; the room is so dark, lit only by a lamp on the other side. I have to hold the note close to my face to make out the words. Immediately I recognize the handwriting. It belongs to Henry.