Page 16 of One More Chance

Even if it had felt special to me.

“Just don’t tell Kellan that,” Troy says. “I can’t imagine he’d agree that love trumps all after the love of his life betrayed him and he ended up in prison.”

“I don’t suppose there’s anyone in your life you’re interested in marrying? You know, to help out the cause.”

Troy barks out a laugh. “You mean to take one for the team?” His tone holds a nice-try smirk and a not-happening snort.

“Pretty much.”

“Nope. What about you and Simone?”

“Simone?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know you and Simone used to hook up behind everyone’s backs. Plus, you and she used to be close.”

I keep my ass firmly glued to my seat, avoiding any telling signs that I’m about to lie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about with the first point. And as for the second one, we haven’t spoken to each other in almost a decade.” After she quit responding to my letters and never sent any more of her own.

“You do realize I know when you’re lying? So you can cut that crap about not hooking up with her. I saw her more than once in college sneaking out of your apartment. And it didn’t look like either of you had stayed up studying for an exam—if you know what I mean.”

“Fine. Who else knows?”

“I didn’t discuss it with anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. And I have no idea if Kellan and Garrett knew about it. Kellan was too deep in his own shit and gaming to have noticed. And who knows with Garrett, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. I’m certain Aiden was clueless since you’re still alive.” He winces, and his gaze averts to the sandwich in his hands.

“There’s nothing going on between Simone and me now. We’re not friends. Hell, we don’t even live in the same city, and I have no interest in moving to Portland.”

“As I see it, she’s now unemployed, single, and has no reason to move back to Portland.”

I shake my head, my decision firm. “She’s not the solution to our problem, Troy, so forget it. What happened between Simone and me was a long time ago. She’s not into me anymore.”

7

Simone

The dim fluorescent lighting reveals the pale, frail form with the puff of white hair asleep on the hospital bed.

My chest tightens, struggling under the weight of the elephant in the room. The sharp disinfectant odor assaults me with memories of the last time I was in a hospital. An IV dripping meds into my arm. The ache where my uterus used to be.

The void where my daughter once grew.

It’s going to be okay. Everything will be fine.

I walk cautiously to the bed, carrying the box from Picnic & Treats and taking care my heels don’t click against the floor. Large floral arrangements brighten the otherwise drab room.

Grams’s withered hand rests on her stomach, IV fluid emptying drop by drop into a vein on the back of it. The same hand used to stroke my cheek when I woke from a nightmare. The same tender fingers wiped away my childhood tears.

“I hope that box contains what I think is in it.” Her voice might be weak but the smile to her tone isn’t. “I also hope that’s you, Gumdrop, and not a figment of my imagination.”

Despite the grim reason for my being here, I can’t help but grin at the nickname she gave me as a kid because I loved the candy.

“No, I’m definitely here.” I bend down and kiss her soft, wrinkled cheek. She’s paler than I remember her being when she visited me in Portland at Christmas.

“The nurse told me it was okay to give you this.” I lift the lid and show her the two thick apple strudel slices.

The toothy smile from my childhood curves onto her face. “Thank God for that. I forgot how bad hospital food tastes. Are they afraid if the food actually tastes good, patients will never want to leave?” She shakes her head.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little sore.”

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