“You’re not going to believe this,” she said and handed him a fresh spoon.
Yes, he just might. Nothing bitter, just smooth and delicious, with a hint of ginger, garlic, the tangy sweetness of the carrots and oranges, blended so perfectly that they made an exquisite sauce.
“You amaze me,” he said. “You need to know that.”
“But you’re the one who made the sauce.”
“No, I just brought the ingredients. You added the magic.” He took her hand. “Really, please, I need to talk to you.”
“We have a pig to serve.”
Oh, for . . .
“I got this,” Raina said. “Ty—let’s get this pig onto the serving table. Someone finish blending the sauce, and then, please, people, let’s make sure we don’t forget serving spoons.”
She reached for her chef’s coat as Max tried to pull Grace out of the kitchen.
“Max, I need to be here. We have so much left to do; we have to get the bread and salads on and—”
“Your team has this. You’ve trained them. Besides, Raina’s here.”
“Yeah,” Raina said, putting on her coat. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“See?” Max said. “It’s time for you to get out of the kitchen and into the party.”
Grace glanced back at Raina, but Max still had her hand, pulling her out into the reception area. He could hear voices, people starting to arrive. In the corner, the band was setting up.
He found her gaze, lost himself for a moment in it, then conjured up the words he had to say.
Courage. Focus on life. “You need to be here. With me. We never finished our conversation at the park, and there’s something you need to know—”
“I already know, Max.”
She did?
And then he saw it on her face, the truth in her smile, sad and edged with pity.
“Jace told you.”
She nodded. “You should have told me.”
He drew in a long, steadying breath. “I know. But I was . . . I was afraid.” He took her by the shoulders. “And you should be too, frankly. It’s not like cancer. This disease is going to take me from you slowly, like Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s put together. I’ll lose my mind and my body one agonizing step at a time. I’ll start dropping things and forgetting things you say to me. I’ll lose my balance, my ability to speak. Then I’ll slowly lose my mind, even become irrational. I’ll stop being able to care for myself. You’ll have to feed me. And in my worst nightmares, I’ll linger that way for years.”
Her expression had become more solemn, as if finally the truth had sunk in. But there was more.
“Grace, the worst part is, you’ll have to suffer through this alone. I can’t give you children. I’m sterile—on purpose.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
He winced. “No—every time I look at you, I see family. A home. A long life with the one you love—this is what you want. And exactly what I can’t give you.”
Suddenly her expression changed again. She smiled, something so tender in her eyes, it could crumple him. She slid her hands up to cradle his face. “Oh, Max, don’t you get it? You can give it to me—just not how I’d planned. We don’t have to have a long life to be happy. The tragedy doesn’t have to steal our joy. Has it occurred to you that maybe God brought you into my life not for your good, but for mine? That maybe it would be my privilege to walk through this with you? There are no guarantees in life, and we can’t keep from living—or loving—just because it might be dangerous. Max, I—”
“Sharpe, you have about five seconds to get out of here before this gets ugly. And I promise you don’t want that.”
Max froze as he looked up and saw Owen headed for him. His former teammate, despite being dressed in a suit, wore a patch over one eye, sick and clear evidence of Max’s mistake.
“Owen . . . man, I’m sorry.” He backed away from Grace. “Listen, we need to talk. I am so sorry about—”
“Owen, back off!” Grace’s voice shrilled between them.
Owen stopped short, looking down at her.
She’d turned her back to Max, stepping between him and her brother. “You’re going to listen to me whether you like it or not. You’re a mess. You’re angry and hurting; we all get that. And we love you. But Max is not to blame for your pain.”
“Are you kidding me? He’s totally to blame—”
“No, he’s not. You are. It was a terrible accident; no one is denying that. And Max feels terrible about it. But guess what—your life isn’t over. You’re not dead. You have choices about the way you treat people and how you live.”