Page 77 of Paging Dr. Summers

Brooke was like the little pink dragon she wanted—enchanting and fiery, impossible but real. I needed to make Erica understand that. It sounded crazy, as she wasn’t alive, but she lived inside of me. And we needed to come to terms with my growing feelings for Brooke and, maybe even more importantly, the feelings and hurt that had gone unsaid before Erica died.

I wound around the cemetery that felt like a strange oasis amid the bustle of Seattle’s urban landscape, nestled on a sloping hill overlooking Puget Sound. Towering pine trees stood as sentries on the edge of the well-maintained grounds. I pulled off on the narrow road near a cluster of marble benches and flower beds with a stately fountain in the middle where people could sit and reflect or grieve. Today, it stood solitary, void of visitors seeking refuge. I was thankful for that, as I needed to be alone with Erica and my thoughts.

I grabbed the bouquet filled with ranunculus and dahlias in muted pink tones and exited my rental, walking deliberately across the dewy grass toward Erica’s grave. Each step felt heavy, as they always did when I came to this place. I usually walked slowly to my wife’s resting spot, hating to be reminded of the finality of it. But today, I had this need to rush, like a clock was ticking and if I didn’t act soon, there would be irreversible consequences.

I thought of leaving Brooke in my bed the morning before, so damn sexy, yet hurt and confused, although she would never say it. But I’d seen it in her eyes and felt it in the way she’d kissed me. Despite the hurt, she’d told me she understood.

I wasn’t sure if that was true. As I’d watched her sleep, struggling to come to terms with the feeling that she belonged in my bed, in my shirt, Maxwell’s warning about regret had played over and over in my mind. The last thing I wanted was to regret the outcome of our relationship. Even now, I questioned whether I had done the right thing when I’d left her the day before, especially when she was so gutted by the truth about who her father was. But I was coming to this place for her, for us, although I couldn’t tell her that until I knew the outcome.

I approached Erica’s grave, positioned under a tall cedar tree, her gleaming black granite headstone catching the reflections of the sunlight filtering through the trees. It was bold and flawless, much like her. Her name etched in silver always made my breath catch in my lungs.

I placed the flowers in the empty vase cemented near her grave and thought about how much she would appreciate their subtle beauty. Bright and flashy flowers were ridiculous to her. Erica had beenparticular about everything in her life. While some found it off-putting, I liked that she knew her mind so well. It had prevented a lot of miscommunication issues in our relationship.

On the other hand, I adored how Brooke was never sure what she was in the mood for and would cover her bases by buying five things to eat for dinner, trying every one of them to see which made her the happiest in the moment. As a result, I got to try new foods and places and was reminded that I didn’t always have to have life all figured out. That it was okay to live in the moment and maybe even eat dessert for dinner.

I smiled, thinking of the week she’d done exactly that. And there was Brooke’s love of wildflowers, which she kept in jars and drinking glasses all over her place. They reflected her personality—unapologetically mismatched and naturally beautiful.

Brooke would have driven Erica nuts. She hated chaos of any kind, and Brooke seemed to thrive in it. I was sure her upbringing had something to do with it, taking care of her sick mother most of her life. Despite that, Brooke herself wasn’t chaos. She was a light—a source of calm.

How had my sister said it?It takes a special woman to want to fix what she didn’t break.That was exactly what Brooke was doing, and I felt guilty about it. That someone so different from Erica could be the one to help me heal.

I knelt, letting the dew’s moisture seep through my pants as I traced Erica’s name, the coolness of the granite nipping at my fingertips. It steadied me and unsettled me all at once. Even now, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d come seeking. Was it forgiveness or permission? Perhaps both.

But one thing I knew I had to do ...

“Erica,” I whispered. “You don’t know how much I regret that our last words were biting and unguarded. But,” I breathed out, “maybe we should have been more unguarded. I know you loved to claim we were the perfect couple, and in many regards, we were. But things weren’t perfect between us when you died, or even before that. Your lie about wanting children was a crushing blow to me. I thought we were on the same page, and to find out we weren’t was disorienting to say the least.You knew how much I wanted to be a father. More importantly, I wanted to share that step with you. What hurt more was that you didn’t feel you could tell me the truth. I thought we were stronger than that. Was I wrong?” That thought had plagued me more than all the others.

I sank onto my heels, something like an epiphany hitting me. “Erica, I think we tried too hard to keep up the perfect image. I think I’m coming to realize that it hurt us more than helped us. It hid some truths we needed to work on. Your lie made me question if what we had was real, and I hated it. Then you died, and to honor you, I kept the facade of perfection alive, even lying to myself that your actions didn’t hurt me.”

I paused and closed my eyes before I could go on. “They did hurt, and they continue hurting me because I’ve been too afraid to own it. I didn’t want to injure you or your memory. But now ... someone else has come into my life, and she’s messy in ways you wouldn’t appreciate or like, but she’s real. She’s honest in a way I’ve never known I needed. Somehow, Brooke has made me believe I can be whole again, even if I’m imperfect ... and that pink dragons might actually exist. You can at least understand that, right? Not the dragons. You would hate that,” I laughed. “But you always appreciated someone who put their all into what they did. Brooke is an all-in person, just like you.”

That thought gave me some comfort. An assurance that maybe the two women had something in common that had attracted me to them both.

I opened my eyes, tracing Erica’s name again. “With that said, I don’t know how to move on without feeling like I’m betraying you. Or maybe I don’t know how to move on from this perfect version of us I’ve enshrined in my mind.”

Those words and the admission hit me. It wasn’t how Erica and I had left things, or even her lie, that was truly holding me back. It was me. The lie I’d perpetuated, thinking I was doing the honorable thing.

Together, Erica and I had crafted this pristine version of our relationship, and we’d needlessly clung to it instead of embracing the truth and each other. Suddenly, my biggest regret was that we hadn’t trusted our relationship enough to work on it.

“I think we missed out,” I admitted out loud. “For that, I’m sorry.We should have been more honest with each other. So, I’m going to be honest with you now. I love you, Erica. I always will. But I also care a great deal about Brooke, and I want to see where things go with her if she’ll have me. I’m not trying to replace you—that’s not possible. But I need to let go of the idea that loving someone else means betraying you. Can you understand that?” I pleaded.

“You’ll always be a part of me,” I said unwaveringly. “But Brooke is here now, in the present, and I need to be present with her too. She deserves that. And I hope you would agree that I deserve that too.”

I let the silence stretch, waiting for an audible response from Erica, knowing how foolish that was. No words came, but the tightness in my chest eased. It didn’t vanish, but it became bearable. I took that as my answer. I wiped my damp palms on my jeans and stood and lingered on Erica’s name.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “You know, if things work out with Brooke, she’s going to want to come here and meet you. I’m just giving you a heads-up so you can brace yourself. She’s something else,” I laughed. “I love you, Erica,” I said with every tender feeling I ever had for her. “And honestly, I think if I let Brooke in, she’ll love you too, because that’s the kind of woman she is.”

I took a moment to be grateful for the past I shared with Erica. Then I turned, taking a few steps, feeling for the first time in a long time that it was okay for me to face my future. That I didn’t need to feel any shame or guilt about wanting to move forward. I guess the old saying was true—the truth will set you free. I only wished Erica and I would have embraced reality more than we had.

That regret would remain. But this time around, I would use the lessons I’d learned and would do better with Brooke. Now, I just had to find out if Brooke saw us the same way I did—becauseflingnever felt like it fit anyway.

WITH A BREAKING HEART, LATE Sunday afternoon, I grabbed the gift bag for Logan out of my bike’s basket. It had been an exhausting day, packing and cleaning and, of course, playing a rousing game of beach volleyball with Lola, Alejandro, and Roman. I was still as awful at it as I’d always been. But Mom’s list was complete. I thought I’d feel a sense of relief, but somehow, things still felt unfinished.

I walked up the steps to Logan’s house for the last time, knowing I couldn’t leave without at least trying to say goodbye to him and his family. They meant too much to me to just skip town. Although part of me wanted to, and I wasn’t even sure if he was back from Seattle. He didn’t give me an itinerary, and he’d never called. That should have said something to me. Something like I was just making a fool of myself going over there. But making a fool of myself was how our relationship had started. It might as well have ended that way.

I knocked on the patio door. Eden was alone in the kitchen, standing in front of her mixer. Her face lit up when she saw me, and she waved me in.

With trepidation, I opened the door, fearing what my heart might do if I saw Logan. It was bad enough seeing Eden. When I’d made this decision the previous night, I’d felt much more brazen about it. But in the light of day, I realized everything walking away from Aspen Lake meant.

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