Page 73 of Love Beyond Repair
We say our goodbyes before leaving for home. All the children are with their mothers tonight, so I have plenty of time to stew on the information. As we leave, Melissa turns to me. It’s obvious she’s considering saying something, but thinks better of it.
“Just say whatever you want to say,” I tell her. Eamon nods to his wife in encouragement.
“I was just thinking about how short and unpredictable life is. It’d be a waste not to take a risk before it is too late.”
Then she takes her husband’s hand, and they walk away toward their car, leaving me standing on the pavement, watching their burly backs waddle away. Her words spinning in my mind.
Sitting at home alone in my apartment, I feel completely at sea. My head’s telling me to continue along the path I’m on, being the father Liam needs. Bex will tell me when she wants me to know. When I need to know.
However, the situation is critical. How long is she going to wait before she bloody tells me? I feel like I should be brave and tell her how I feel. I let her walk away before. Told myself it was the right thing. That she’d be better off without me. But watching her do this alone? That’s not love, it’s cowardice. And I’m done being a coward.
One bottle of wine becomes two. I toss and turn, plagued by regret and "what ifs," until sleep finally offers solace.
But within hours, I’m startled awake by my dreams. Terrifying movies of Bex in a coffin or sitting at home alone, ill, with no one to support her. Before I can change my mind, I launch myself out of bed and start throwing things into a bag. I can’t cope with this.
I need to go.
Pulling on yesterday’s clothes and shoes, I head out the door and jump into my car. Then I do what I should’ve done years ago. I go to her.
Pulling up outside her apartment block, I glance at my watch. It’s one o’clock in the morning, and after everything I drank, I probably shouldn’t have driven. I didn’t think this through. You’re a madman appearing at her door in the middle of the night. Go home.
As I turn the ignition off, I glance up at her apartment. The lights are on, and she’s standing in the window, staring down at my car.
You can’t leave now. She’s seen you.
So I grab my bag and drag myself outside. I may as well take the bull by the horns, as they say.
Climbing the three flights of stairs to the apartment is taking longer than usual. I don’t know if it’s because I am exhausted or terrified, but my feet are not moving as fast as they normally do. When I arrive at the front door, it’s still closed. I wonder if she never actually saw me.
Turning to go, I hear the lock snick. She opens the door and stares at me as if I’m a figment of her imagination. Herskin is paler than I’ve ever seen it. Her hair’s pulled back into a ponytail. She’s bundled in fleece pajamas with socks and gloves, despite the warm summer night. Something about it knocks the breath from my lungs.
Tonight, she looks like a woman who’s gravely ill. She goes to speak, but I lift my hand to stop her.
“You don’t have to say anything. But I need to...” This is my chance. My last chance after walking away when she needed me before. I need to make it count, so I say everything.
“I know about the cancer. I know about your treatment. I know about your prognosis. I still love you. Please let me support you. Let me be the man I should have been for you all those years ago,” I beg. “I failed you before. I won’t do it again. Not now. Not when it matters most.” I’m nervous, terrified of her response.
Soft brown eyes hold mine. And all I can do is pray she says yes.
If she lets me in, it’s not just for her—it’s for Liam too. He deserves the truth. And so does she. They both deserve all of me, if they’ll have me.
Chapter thirty-seven
Bex
Unable to decide if I’m dreaming, I stare at Ben standing on my doorstep. It’s the middle of the night, but the summer heat hangs in the air. I still feel cold, though. It doesn’t matter how warm it gets—I’m always cold these days.
He’s just made a beautiful speech about knowing I have cancer and wanting to be the man he should have been years ago.
For a moment, I can’t breathe. The weight of his words settling in my chest like a storm and a balm allat once. He knows.
My knees threaten to give way as relief crashes through me. A sensation both sharp and overwhelming, mingled with the constant fear I’ve learned to live with.
He sees me. All of me. And still, he’s choosing to be here. Stay here. No matter the outcome.
The anger that should appear doesn’t. It’s only relief I feel. Telling him has been playing on my mind. I knew he would need to know soon. When there would be times I couldn’t look after our son, but until now, I’d been able to manage the situation.
It’s Ben, but he barely looks like himself.
