Page 61 of Almost True
“Does that mean you’re free tonight?”
Maddie’s voice hit me in the chest in the best way. I turned to see her looking healthy and vibrant.Thank goodness.It’d been four days since I’d left her house, promising her I’d let her know if I felt sick and waving off her repeating thank-yous. She’d improved so much overnight, I hadn’t been scared to leave her. At the same time, I hated leaving and wished I could pause the rest of life and stay with her.
She assured me Anthony would help if she needed it, but that didn’t sit right with me. I knew the man was a close friendandemployee, but I hated the idea of her paying someone to do the most basic things for her, things that a partner would do.
But I didn’t know where that line was. I’d stayed while she was nearly delirious and insisted on staying the night, but I sensed staying any longer than that would be too much. The space we now occupied was unknown territory to me. I’d married Viv young and hadn’t dated anyone seriously since she’d passed. I didn’t know how to manage this in between, especially when my feelings were far too strong this early in the gameandshe was leaving. No doubt, no equivocation, she would leave.
One part of me felt a gut reaction to end it now before I fell any further. I’d had the thought too many times over the weekend. And yet, if the years since losing my wife had taught me anything, it was that I didn’t want to live half a life. I didn’t want to cage myself in and keep myself safe, because who knew what lay ahead. Too often, we have no idea what’s coming. I wanted to live with a full heart. I’d done enough bracing against the possible futures for a lifetime, and I’d promised myself and the legacy of my marriage to Viv that I wouldn’t limp along in fear forever.
“Luca and I are having a guys’ night. Pizza. Video games. Books. All the craziest party games.” John grinned and wiggled his brows like he’d mentioned a list of frat party plans instead of hanging out with his eleven-year-old sort-of nephew.
“And you?” Maddie’s gorgeous hazel eyes shifted to me.
“Uh, I’m—”
“Hey, I’m going to stock up on snacks. I’ll be by in an hour or so,” John said, giving me a look.
A meaningful look that said something likeyou should just tell heror maybeyou shouldn’t tell her, that’s too much.I hesitated, but I wanted Maddie to know. Much like our first encounter, I wanted her to see me as I was. Ironically, at that point, I’d specifically left out the whole widowed father thing, but we’d still had such an honest exchange. Such a real evening. And every interaction since had felt the same.
So I wouldn’t lie to her now. I just… went for it. “It’s my anniversary.”
“Your…oh.” Her eyes grew wide and her brow furrowed. Not pity, though—concern laced her features.
“Before you worry or ask, I’m okay. I just always feel like I owe it to her, or maybe at this point more to myself, to take some time and… remember her.”
She set a hand on my wrist. “I don’t know what that’s like, but it makes sense. And please know, if you ever want to tell me about her, I’d love to hear.”
Something gripped me, deep in my chest. Emotion clocked me in the skull and I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
Her eyes searched mine before she let her hand drop. “Can I hug you?”
A breathy laugh escaped. “Of course.”
And she did. She leaned in and hugged me close, one hand on my back, the other soft but strong on my neck. Not trying to distract me from the memory or convince me to spend time with her. Not attempting to act like she knew what this felt like, or could guess. No begging to ignore the calendar and live a little. No suggestion that maybe spending time with someone new would make it easier, better. All the things other people had tried? She didn’t do that.
She just hugged me, offering a moment of compassion and human connection, then she stepped away. “I’ll be around, but if you’re busy until then, I’ll see you on the twenty-fourth.”
I grabbed her hand. “I won’t be busy until then, Maddie. Just tonight.”
She smiled, and with a small nod, she slipped away into the crowd milling along Silver Street.
Hours later, I found myself calling her. I’d gone through the traditions I’d made over the last eight years, letting emotion overwhelm me. Revisiting the sense of loss. Allowing myself to remember all the beauty Vivienne Templeton-Wallace brought with her, and that she took away. I could get pretty dark on days like these, but this year, I didn’t feel that pull to drown my sorrows late into the night. And I knew why.
It wasn’t that Maddie took away the pain or loss. At some point, I’d lose her, too. And I could circle that date on the calendar, or at least the general time frame. It was a known loss, and I’d decided it was worth it.
But what had improved this year, a little more than it had last year, was the hope. I now had the genuine belief that I could find someone to love again. Hell, I was more than halfway there already. And while I didn’t fool myself into thinking a man would be lucky enough to love more than one amazing woman like I had Viv, somehow, I’d tricked Maddie into spending time with me. And maybe that meant I could find something meaningful and long-term with someone else. Eventually.
Once I recovered from this glimpse at a second chance.
So the fact that I physically relaxed when she answered didn’t surprise me. I’d spent the day thinking of and remembering Viv, but Maddie had been on the fringes, and it felt good to come back around. I wanted her to understand, and I’d decided to just call her and tell her. To ignore all the social awkwardness surrounding talking about someone you’ve lost and simply tell Maddie about my first love.
“Hey, I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
She sounded tired, but I’d learned she liked to stay up late sometimes and lucked out with her answering now.
“I wanted to tell you about today. About her. If you’re not too tired.” The second the words were out of my mouth, a sharp bolt of second-guessing shot through me. Was this a huge mistake? Was I reading way,waytoo much into things between us? So I’d taken care of her while she was sick. So we’d gone out a few times. That didn’t mean—
“Of course. I’d love to hear anything you want to share.”
