Page 112 of The Woman By the Lake

“You’re not ready, okay. Your call. But you bury shit, it always finds a way to bite you in the ass.”

“He died a long time ago.”

“So I’m starting with the history stuff so we can lead into the more recent shit.”

Fun times ahead, I saw.

Ugh.

“He had cancer when we met,” I blurted.

He blinked rapidly several times before he asked, “I’m sorry?”

“He had cancer when we met,” I repeated. “But he didn’t tell me. He’d tried some holistic stuff, which didn’t work. And when he started Western medicine, he hid it from me.”

“Jesus,” he bit out.

“He genuinely believed he could beat it when he asked me to marry him. The doctors weren’t so sure, but they were trying to be optimistic. He was young. Healthy. If there was a candidate who could, he could. But it spread, fast and aggressively, and eventually he couldn’t hide it anymore.”

“He should have told you,” he gritted.

“I know,” I replied running my hands up and down his arms because he was visibly angry. “And I get your reaction. I had that too. In waves, when I found out he was sick, when he admitted to me how long he’d been sick. I even felt that after he was gone. But for the life of me, I can’t fault a twenty-eight-year-old man for being determined to live his life, and survive, and maybe going into denial about the possibility, that turned into a probability, that ended in a definite that he wasn’t going to.”

He seemed to be looking at me, though he really wasn’t, when he asked, “Did you love him?”

I knew my smile was sad. “Yes. I loved him a whole lot.”

“And you wanted kids.”

“We both did.”

“So he took that from you. The you wanting kids part.”

“No, my sperm donor father did.”

“Honey—”

I lifted my hands to his neck and held tight. “Riggs, I loved Trevor, and I lost him. It was not all good times, but we knew those times would be short, so we packed a lot into them. I’m glad I met him. I’m glad I married him. I’m blessed to have the time I had with him. I love that I got to be the woman who he loved who would be by his side through all of that. He had great parents, and we’re still in touch, but I’m the promise of the life he should have had, so we’re no longer close. But I also got them through him. And maybe I wallowed in all of that after he was gone. I don’t think anyone would blame me. He might not have played it all perfectly, but what he did was understandable. He’s not baggage, even though I will admit, I carried him like that for a long time. Now I see he’s a part of my life, memories of loving someone and being loved by someone, and a lot of laughter. That’s what I carry with me from Trevor now, and it isn’t heavy.”

“All right,” he muttered.

“Okay,” I whispered.

He touched his mouth to mine.

When he moved away, I got up on my toes and touched mine to his.

“Now, can we talk about Roosevelt’s assistant?” I requested.

He burst out laughing, gave me a squeeze, then said, “No. I’m gonna fix your door. And if I have time, install a couple of cameras. You’re gonna get me some water then make me some lunch. I haven’t had any yet, and I’m fucking starving.”

“You forget to eat a lot.”

“I live. I eat when it fits in. I work when I have to. I fuck when I’m lucky enough to coax a gorgeous blonde into my bed.”

“It took a lot of coaxing,” I joked. “I’m still not sure how you tricked me into it.”

“I’ll remind you tonight.”

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