Page 93 of A Chance for Us
“Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have it checked out.”
Maybe she has a point. “Will it make you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Then who am I to deny you?” I say, grabbing my suit jacket off the back of the door.
“Are you unpacked?” she asks.
“For the most part.”
She lets out a long sigh. “When I come back, I want to decorate your cabin if you’ll let me.”
“Come now,” I suggest.
My place isn’t anything to write home about, but it’s far more comfortable than the RV I stayed in for over a year. The cabin is small but has everything I need, including running water and heat. That is a step up from the generator and thimble-sized hot water heater the RV had. As for decorations, I couldn’t give two shits about them, but if it gets her here, I’m in.
“I wish I could. I need to get into the office and see if Mark is back yet.”
“Still no answer?” I ask. It would be nice to know exactly what our status is so we aren’t in the strange limbo anymore.
“No, but he’ll be in today, and once I assess the team, what’s going on, and whether we are legally married, I’ll probably book my flight to Georgia.”
“Any changes?”
Maren is quiet for a second. “No, but I assume he’s gotten worse. I called Linda this morning, and she was in a mood. She said that if I cared, I would be there instead of waiting for him to be closer to death’s door.”
“Maren . . .”
“I know, I know,” she says. “He wouldn’t want me to just sit around, but she has a point. I need to go, and . . . well, I’ll regret it if I don’t.”
She still hasn’t said anything about wanting me there, but the thing is, I want to go. I care about her and want to help shoulder her burdens. We’re trying to make this a real relationship, but we also need to keep up the charade about being married.
As her husband, I would go.
As her boyfriend, I want to go.
“What if I go with you?”
“What?” Her voice rises a few octaves.
“I can work remotely if I need to, but my siblings have everything in hand. I should be there with you . . . Iwantto be there with you.”
She doesn’t say anything. I can imagine her sitting there, calculating the words, creating a plan that has fifteen different contingencies before speaking.
“You want to go with me?”
“No, I want tobe therewith you. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
She sniffles. “If you’re trying to get me to leave you, you’re doing a shit job of convincing me you’re not perfect.”
“I’m not perfect.”
Maren sighs deeply. “You might just be perfect for me.”
And that’s something that makes my heart pound. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“I want to be with you more than I want to be apart. So, yes, it would mean the world to me, and I think it would mean a lot to Daddy too.”
