Endless Love Letter (Love Letter Duet Book 2) (10 page)

BOOK: Endless Love Letter (Love Letter Duet Book 2)
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16

T
he day
I learned that I missed four years of my daughter’s life was a horrible day. Though my heart doubled in size, and I fell in love at first glance it decimated me and I realized how thin the line between love and hate can truly be.

Another dreadful day in my life was when I found out my brother had died.

There was day Axel called me to tell me that Harry was lifeless in the bed next to him.

And I can’t forget the day I saw Emilia at the church wearing a white dress for another man.

Those were all crappy fucking days.

In reality, those days weren’t the worst days of my life. They were bad days, but I would relive all of those days for Emilia to have one really good day.

We thought we had finally reached good days.

Emilia had woken up that morning with a wide smile on her face. She had three sessions under her belt and was adjusting to the chemo. She was upbeat and had spent most of the morning in the pool with Lyra. Her appetite was slim, but she had eaten all of her breakfast and had blasted the music through the surround sound.

It
was
a good day. It
was
supposed to be a good day.

I was writing new songs while the nightmare of losing the love of my life haunted me at night. It was soothing to put my fears on paper. I stayed up late watching Emilia sleep soundly as I wrote another song. Axel, Pete, and Travis had freed up their schedules and were working in the studio, so I would pop in at random, listen to what they were working on and give them my thoughts.

We had one song mastered and ready for our second album. When I was in the studio, I was Weston, the twenty–eight–year–old man who had a multi–platinum record and was working on a second. Not the Weston who no longer knew what day it was because his world revolved around cancer. I hated to admit it, but for three hours I didn’t have to think about her chemo, or if she was eating enough red meat. I only thought about this new song I wanted to share with her.

Why was the world so unfair?

A
fter lunch
, Emilia had assured me she was fine and I should go ahead since my mother was there with her. I kissed her tenderly and grabbed my laptop and guitar.

After three hours in the studio, I pulled my car into Emilia’s driveway. The sun had begun to set in the sky and dark gray clouds foretold a storm brewing on the horizon. We desperately needed the water.

My keys jingling at my side, I dropped my stuff on the foyer table and looked around the quiet house. The lights throughout were mostly turned off. Lyra sat on the sectional couch in the living with my mother. A big bowl of popcorn rested on Lyra's legs.

“Hey,” I said when I walked in. Resting against the door frame, I scratched the back of my head.

“Hi, Daddy!” Lyra looked over at me. Her smile was different now that she had lost her first tooth. She was growing up so fast, but most of her milestones were overlooked by the other issue going on in our house.

“Where's Emilia?”

“She went upstairs about fifteen minutes ago.” My mother pulled her gaze from the TV and looked over at me.

Instantly, I felt something wasn't right. It was a gut feeling. A sixth sense. I pushed off the door frame and headed up to the second floor. Taking the stairs two at a time, I jogged to our bedroom. Her master bathroom door was closed. I could hear the water running on the other side.

“Em?” I tapped on the door and rested my ear on the door. I heard her soft cries.

“I'm fine, Weston.” Her voice was shaky. “Go away.”

“Emmy.” I tapped again. “Open the door. Tell me what's wrong.” I jiggled the door handle, but it was locked.

“Weston, please . . . just leave me alone.” She cried louder. “I'm fine! I promise!”

“Em, open this door.”

“I'm a mess,” she sobbed. “I made a mess. You don't deserve this. You can’t see me like this!”

My hands lay flat on the white wooden door. “Emilia, please, open this door,” I pleaded.

“Please, I don't want you to see me like this! Please!” Her voice broke through every barrier I'd ever built to be strong for her.

My fingernails dug into the wood frames. “I love you. Please let me be there for you.”

“No!” she screamed. “Go away!” I heard a loud crash against the door. “I fucking hate that I'm like this! I hate this fucking disease! Please . . . Please . . . God . . . I can't live like this anymore!”

Panic roared through my body. I lifted my leg and kicked the door open. Emilia sat in the center of the room, half–naked and sobbing. Broken shards of a vase that had sat on the vanity were scattered on the floor. The water from the sink ran over her dirty clothes.

“Please don't look at me!” She tried to cover her dirty legs. “I made a mess. I'm a fucking mess! I can't even control it.”

I walked over to the sink and turned off the water. “If you're a mess, you're my mess and I love you.” I reached out my hand to grab her.

Lifting her off the tile floor, I guided her to the tub. “This is so embarrassing.” She brought her hand to cover her face. Vomit entangled in her hair.

I guided Emilia as she stepped into the tub and I tugged on the hem of her shirt. “Shh, babe, it’s okay.” Turning the water on, I brought the shower head to her body. Emilia wept as the warm water sluiced off her body, washing away a fucking horrible day.

“I don't deserve you,” she muttered.

“Don't say that.”

“I don’t,” she cried. “Weston, you're so good to me. You're an amazing father to Lyra. And now you're sitting here, cleaning me up.” She looked up at me for the first time since I had barged in the door. “You're a good man, and I don’t know how I'll ever repay you.”

I brought the water over her hair and the vomit slowly slid down her body and washed down the drain.

“I'm not a good man, Em.” I brushed her hair away from her face. “You're my yellow gel, and I will do anything for you.” I tried to smile as I prayed for a better tomorrow. I didn't know then that every day with Emilia, no matter how bad, was still a good day.

Because it was a day I got to spend with her.

17

T
wo months later
.

G
ood days
.

We’d finally gotten some good days. Consecutive good days.

Emilia was halfway through with chemo and we were counting down the days before this was all behind her. She was also in better spirits. One Friday morning, after I’d come home from dropping off Lyra at school, I found Emilia sitting in the livingroom with the radio blasting through the house. She had albums, CDs and her laptop scattered on the floor in front of her.

The music was so loud that she didn’t even budge when I shouted from behind her. I walked in front of her and waved. She fumbled with the remote to lower the stereo and laughed. “Sorry,” she said. She stood and rushed over to give me a kiss. “Do you know the amount of music that exists in this world? Like, really great music. I missed four years of it when I avoided the radio because I was hiding from you. I’m never going to catch up.”

I took her in my arms and brought my lips to hers. “What have you found so far?”

“One Direction, Ed Sheeran and all of Pink’s newer albums. I swear I’m going to have an infinite number of playlists.” Emilia pulled out of my arms and lifted her laptop off the floor. “Look at this playlist I just created.” She tapped a button and music began to play through the surround sound.

It had been months since I’d seen her this energetic and happy. “What’s that?” I asked when I noticed a small box on the floor where she sat.

Emilia placed the laptop down and picked up the box. “It’s a GoPro.” She twirled the box around. “I figured I can capture the good days, and on my bad days maybe I can set it up so I don’t miss Lyra.”

I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “What do you have planned for later tonight?”

Emilia peered up at me, her eyebrows pushed together. “Uh . . . Well, I was planning to head out for the night, maybe hit a few bars.” She giggled at her own joke. “I’m doing the same thing I do every night. Cook dinner, hang out with you and Lyra, and let you hold me all night.”

The song switched to a slower one and I took the GoPro camera out of Emilia’s hand and tossed it on the couch. I wrapped my arms around her petite frame and began to sway our bodies. “I want to take you out on a date.”

Her arms clasped around my neck. “Yeah?” Emilia looked up at me, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip.

“Yes, where you get dressed up and I charm you with my words. If you’re lucky, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.” I pressed my lips to the tip of her nose.

“I’d really like that,” she whispered. And then her soft lips molded into mine.

W
e kissed Lyra good–bye
, and waved as my mother’s car pulled away from the driveway and onto the street. Lyra was spending the night with my mother, baking cookies for her school’s bake sale.

“Are you excited?” I whispered near Emilia’s ear.

“Nervous.” She shrugged.

Walking back inside the house, I coiled my arms behind her and rested my lips on the hollow of her neck. “I’ll be a gentleman.” My hands slid across her stomach.

“Weston.” She pulled away and turned toward me. “I’m going to go get ready.” She poked my chest. “You better be on your best behavior, sir.”

I watched Emilia as she walked up the stairs, my heart rate a bit higher than usual as I anticipated our night. Pulling a beer out of the fridge, I turned up some soft music as I waited. It would only take me twenty minutes to get ready.

An hour later I was sitting on the couch, the television on behind me, but my eyes were on the beautiful woman who was walking down the stairs. Emilia was in a hunter–green dress, her hair swayed as she walked.

Keeping my hands off of her was going to be impossible.

“Do you like?” she asked, slowly turning.

“I like.” I reached out a hand for her to grab. “You’re beautiful.” Emilia smiled coyly as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Come on, let’s go before I change my mind and decide it’s better we stay here.”

I couldn’t recall the last time I'd taken her out. I planned to savor this night. At every red light, I reminded her how beautiful she was, writing a love letter on her hand.

“Where are we going?” she asked when we pulled into a dark alley in Santa Monica.

“You'll see.” I put my car in park as the valet attendant approached us. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, marking the sky with amber rays. I met Emilia on the other side of the car and took her hand in mine.

“Shall we?”

One Pico was an open style restaurant with tall walls of white wooden–framed windows overlooking the beach. The lights were dimmed and tea lights illuminated the tables.

The hostess led us to our seats. I’d requested an intimate table away from a lot of traffic and with a spectacular view of the sunset.

“This is really nice, Weston,” Emilia whispered once the hostess walked away.

“I'd give you the moon if I could.” I placed my napkin on my lap.

“You're such a dork.” She shook her head. “Just because you're a musician and you're good with your words, doesn’t mean that your charms are working on me today, buddy.”

I reached across the table and grasped her hands. “They're not?” I raised one eyebrow at her.

“Okay, maybe just a little.”

The tea lights burned, illuminating the table, and the sound of the waves crashing a few feet away drowned out anyone else as we enjoyed our dinner. Our conversation was light. We laughed, we joked, and we
didn't
talk about cancer. We were two people in love, enjoying a night out.

Emilia stood from the table, and my hand rested on her lower back as I guided her out of the restaurant. “Take a walk with me?” I released my hand from her back and led her toward the beach.

“I’d love to,” she said as she removed her heels. Holding on to her shoes with one hand, she entwined the other with mine. I led us down between the restaurants to a secluded part of the beach.

“Wes?”

A few feet away stood Axel, Sally, Leslie, and every other person who cared for Emilia. One by one someone lit the Tiki torches that had been planted in the sand, and Emilia was able to see their faces. She gasped when she spotted Lyra among the crowd.

She peered up at me, the moonlight bouncing off her skin and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Why are they here?”

“Tonight we are going to light up the sky.”

Before she had a chance to ask anything further, Lyra came running toward us. Scooping her into my arms, we walked toward four burning Tiki torches.

“Thanks for setting everything up.” I kissed Leslie on the cheek.

“What is this?” Emilia’s voice was filled with happiness. It had been so long since I’d seen her like this. So . . .
alive
.

“We’re all going to write our wishes on this paper and light them up.” Leslie handed Emilia a paper lantern and a Sharpie. “We’ll watch as we light up the sky.”

Lyra drew a rainbow and our family on her paper with the word “Happy.”

Emilia wished for health.

I wished for endless days like today.

Our small group each lit lanterns that slowly lifted off our fingertips and flew into the dark sky. Lyra stood in front of us, my arms over Emilia’s shoulders as we looked upward into the night sky. The most beautiful smile was present on Emilia’s face.

She was lighting up the darkness that lived inside of me.

W
e said
good–bye to our friends and left One Pico. Leslie, who had surprised Emilia by flying into town, decided to come back to the house so they could catch up. Lyra and my parents said their good–byes before heading back to my house.

The music played in the backyard. Emilia sat on the outside pool chair with her feet up, Leslie in the chair next to her, and they both chatted about work, life, and love. It was wrong to eavesdrop, but it was impossible to stay away from her.

“Monica.” Emilia said to Leslie.

“Monica? Roommate Monica?” Leslie questioned.”

“Yes!” Her lips puckered in annoyance. “I never liked her. I swear we were never good enough for her and her high horse. Remember the night I met Weston, how she threw herself all over him.” Her tone was cool and disapproving.

“Oh, yes!” Leslie reached across and grabbed Emilia’s hand. “She was very materialistic and let’s be honest, a whore,” Leslie said matter–of–factly.

“Yes,” Emilia sneered. “She is number one on my list.”

“What list?” I asked and sat on the edge of Emilia’s chair.

“People you can’t marry.” Leslie raised her beer to mine as a silent salute.

“Marry? Who’s talking about me getting married? Of the three of us, the only one who actually got married was you, Em.” I stared at her and started to laugh.

Emilia kicked my side and laughed. “Whatever. You didn’t stop it, so suck it.”

Leslie snorted. “Awkward!”

“Leslie and I were playing Do, Marry, Kill with boy bands and then we jumped to the conversation about marriage.”

“Boy bands?” I raised my eyebrow. “I’m in a boy band.”

“Shut it.” Emilia tried to pinch me with her toes. “Anyway, we started talking about marriage and I gave her a list of people you can’t marry.”

“Oh, this I need to hear.”

“Monica.” She shook her head. “You can marry anyone you want except her.”

“I don’t get your hatred toward her,” Leslie said.

“She was the first girl I saw all over Weston.” Emilia looked up at me. “And I had claimed him already.” Emilia winked at me and I laughed.

“You, babe.” I caressed my hand up her bare leg. “You’re the only girl for me, you know that. My yellow gel.”

“Please excuse me while I hold back my barf,” Leslie joked, holding her stomach.

“Ignore her.” Emilia brushed Leslie away and sat up to give me a kiss.

“You two are so stinking adorable. And you’re also the two most stubborn people I’ve ever had the pleasure of being friends with.” Leslie shook her head in disapproval. “I called him to stop the wedding.” She pointed to me. “I told you not to marry Jeremy.” Her gaze landed on Emilia. “But did anyone listen to me? No, of course not.”

Emilia laughed against our fused lips. “Whatever, we’re still figuring it out.” She pulled away and gazed up at me. “It took us some time, a secret baby, and a life–threatening disease. But we’re here now.”

“We’re here now,” I mouthed against her soft lips.

E
milia didn’t lose
her hair right away. After every chemo treatment, she stood in front of the mirror and brushed her long auburn curls. She inhaled as she dragged the brush down through her hair and a few strands fell out, but nothing had her gasping.

Until that night.

Leslie was crashing in my old guest room, so it was only Emilia and me. I had walked out of the master bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. Emilia was lying on the bed, her body covered in silk lingerie and her gaze burning through me.

“You look beautiful.”

“Come here.” She moved her finger, motioning me toward her. The ten–foot walk from the bathroom to the bed felt like a mile. Emilia crawled up the bed, her red hair bright against the cream material.

I stood at the edge of the mattress. Emilia kneeled and our bodies met. Her hands ran up my body and I coiled my hands around the nape of her neck. Her lips crashed over mine, hungrier with every passing second. Emilia moaned and opened her mouth wider. I tugged on the nape of her neck and froze. My body locked as I realized that the hair in my hands was no longer attached to Emilia’s head.

“What’s wrong?” Emilia asked when I stopped kissing her. I pulled my hand back between us. My hands were covered with long red curls. Emilia gasped and reached for the spot behind her ear. “Oh, my God!”

“It’s okay.” I balled the loose strands in my hand. “It’s hair. It will grow back.”

“You’re right. I was expecting this, but it doesn’t hurt any less.”

I refused to let our perfect day together be ruined.

I marched away from Emilia and straight into the bathroom. If she was going to be bald, then I would be bald with her.

Rummaging through the drawers, I found the buzzer. “What are you doing?” Emilia appeared in the mirror behind me.

“I told you.” I looked up at her reflection and flicked the buzzer on. “You’re not doing this alone.” I brought the buzzer to my hair and began to shave off patches.

A tear fell from Emilia’s cheek and she slowly nodded. “Do you think you can give me a Mohawk until it falls out?”

That night we stood in the bathroom and I shaved my head down to nothing before I gave Emilia a full Mohawk. She’d eventually lose her hair completely, but that night she was in charge.

She chose to take cancer by the balls and tell it to go fuck itself.

BOOK: Endless Love Letter (Love Letter Duet Book 2)
8.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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