Page 16 of Kiss From A Rose

"He's been having an affair with his assistant for God knows how long. Everyone knows."

I burst out laughing. "I don't think so."

"You can't bethisblind."

"I'm not, trust me, Leah. I know Gray inside and out. He might not love me anymore, or maybe he never truly did, but breaking his marriage vows by cheating? That's not who he is."

"I don't know how many women who come to my office think that their husbands wouldn't cheat on them and—"

"My husband wouldn’t cheat on me with another woman, Leah. It’s worse than that. He never loved me. And that painful truth has been becoming clearer over the past few years. He’ll probably think I did him a favor."

"You want me to deliver by hand or courier it?"

"You do whatever you normally do. Honestly, Leah, Gray won't care. It might have even taken him a couple of days to notice I was gone."

Leah sighed. "And you want nothing?"

"No. Just make sure you add a note about the Mercedes and the five thousand dollars. I didn't mention the car in the letter I left him. He can have the car right away if he wants it. The money, well, I'm going to need some time, so maybe you can put together a plan for me to return the money."

"For the love of everythin' holy, Rose, the man can afford five thousand dollars," Leah snapped. "You know what, I'm going to hand deliver these divorce papers to Gray Rutherford and while I’m at it, I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind."

"You do you, Leah, but he's not gonna give a rat's ass, so you'd be wastin' your time."

We talked a little more about my life at Angel Island. By the time I ended the call, I was ready to leave the bread dough to proof in the warmest part of the kitchen.

I heard a sound and looked at Malou standing at the doorstep of the kitchen. "You sure about getting divorced?"

"No," I confessed. "But I can't go back, Malou."

"I know."

"I was fading away. Every morning, I wished I'd die, and then I'd see you and feel guilty because you so want to live and…." My tears choked me.

"Oh, stop with the drama, Flower Girl," Malou mocked with her customary dry humor. "All this cryin' is gonna make my last days on this earth depressing, and I don't want that."

I helped her get comfortable on a chair at the breakfast nook and wrapped a blanket around her. She leaned back on the cushions, exhausted. Just walking from her bedroom to the kitchen had tired her out. The doctor had told me weeks or months, but most probably weeks—that's all the time she had left. He'd suggested hospice, and I'd told himhell no. Malou didn't want that either.

I was here, and I'd take care of her. I was going to bathe her, hold her, take her to the bathroom, hold her when she threw up—whatever she needed.

She slept a lot, ate very little, drank some tea because water tasted bad to her. It was painful to see my vital friend waste away.

"Mint tea?"

She nodded, her breathing shallow. I turned the kettle on and added loose tea into a pot along with mint leaves and some honey. Her throat hurt and the honey helped to soothe some of the ache.

"Gray isn't a bad man," Malou suddenly said.

"No, he's not."

"He's a selfish motherfucker, butyouallowed him to treat you the way he did."

"I know."

I set the steeping tea on the table, along with a set of teacups and saucers.

Malou used her late husband’s insurance money to turn the house he left her into a B&B. Though he’d been a douche, the place, once his grandmother’s, was an incredible property. It had been a neglected dump that no one wanted, but Malou saw its potential and poured herself into restoring it. I helped whenever I could.

When she fell ill two years ago, my visits became more frequent. I wanted to be there for her during her chemotherapysessions and to ensure that the B&B continued to operate smoothly—after all this was her livelihood and now mine as well.

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