“We will.”

  “I told you that was a yes,” Tyler says.

  We leave them with smiles and blown kisses and follow Gage inside. He’s pushing a huge luggage cart with all our bags on it. That he’s barely made eye contact with me since last night’s discovery is only because he’s scared, or so I try to tell myself, because I can’t bear to think it might’ve ruined everything by reminding him how quickly things can change.

  My stomach is a ball of stress as we check in, navigate security with the kids and head for our gate to fly home. The kids are tired and cranky, and that only adds to my distress. Five long hours later, Gage pulls the minivan into the garage at home and helps me unload kids and bags. Before he says the words, I know what’s coming.

  “I’m going to head home. I’ve got some stuff to do there.”

  Since the kids are upstairs, I say what I really want to rather than just nodding in acceptance of his statement. “Do you really, or are you running from what happened last night?”

  “I’m not running.”

  “Aren’t you? If it turns out to be something, it’s game over for us? Is that who you really are?”

  “No, it’s not. I just need a little break. That’s all.”

  “A break. I see. Well, go take your break.” I turn to walk away, disgusted by him and myself for wanting to fall apart on the spot.

  “Iris.”

  I stop, but I don’t look back at him. “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I just need a second to think.”

  “Do what you’ve got to do.” I walk away while I still can, even as tears slide down my cheeks. I wipe them away, determined to get it together so the kids won’t see I’m upset. Baths and bedtime take longer than ever tonight, and I’m thankful for one more vacation day before we get back to our usual routine. I’m going to need that day to do laundry, grocery shop and get our collective act together—not to mention have my breast checked while I nurse a broken heart.

  I’m disappointed in him, even if I understand why he’s acting this way. This was exactly what he was afraid of—something happening to me or the kids after he took a risk and fell in love with us. It just never occurred to me that if something did happen, he’d walk away.

  I should’ve seen that coming, and I’m sick to my stomach that I didn’t.

  I tuck Tyler in and kiss him good night.

  “What was wrong with Mr. Gage today?” he asks, too observant for his own good—and mine.

  “I think he was tired after the busy week.”

  “He was acting weird.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine. We all need some sleep.”

  “Is he going to be our new daddy?”

  Dear Lord, child. Hit me when I’m low. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but he loves you and your sisters very much.”

  “I love him, too. I want him to be my new daddy.”

  I simply can’t handle this right now. I kiss my son again and tuck the covers in around his little body. “I’ll see you in the morning, buddy. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Thanks for a fun trip.”

  I want to tell him that all the thanks go to Gage, but I’m suddenly uncertain if we’ll ever see him again. “You got it.”

  I go into my own room, close the door and slide down to the floor as I dissolve into sobs that remind me far too much of the early days after Mike’s death. I resent Gage for that, too. How can he do this to me? To himself? To the kids? All over something that may be nothing.

  But what if it isn’t? He didn’t sign on to nurse me through a serious illness after he’s already been to hell and back losing his wife and daughters.

  I’m devastated and scared. As a single mom, any threat to me or my health is a very big deal.

  I pull my phone from my back pocket and text Christy. Can you talk?

  My phone rings with a call from her. “Hey.”

  “What’s up? I thought you guys were in Florida.”

  “We just got back.”

  “How was it? I was thinking of you all week.”

  “Wonderful. Nat’s parents are delightful. We had the best time.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “On the last night we were there, Gage and I were, you know, fooling around, and he found a lump in my breast.”

  “Oh, Iris. Oh my goodness.”

  “Gage brought us home and then left. He said he needs a break so he can think.”

  “Oh no.”

  “He’s in a total tailspin over this, and it may turn out to be nothing.”

  “He’s scared, Iris. That’s all it is.”

  “But he left! How could he just leave? Doesn’t he think I’m scared? I’m a single parent to three young children. Is this what’s going to happen any time something scary or worrisome happens?”

  “It might,” she says softly. “He’s preconditioned to fear history repeating itself.”

  “But what are the odds of that?”

  “Astronomically high in your favor, but you can’t tell him that when he’s learned how brutal life can be.”

  “Haven’t we all learned that?”

  “I don’t like to compare one person’s grief to another, but I’m not sure I could’ve survived losing Wes and my kids, too. His loss was massive compared to mine—and yours.”

  “I know,” I say with a sigh. “And I agree, but we were making a go of this. We just went on vacation like a little family in the making. I visited his late wife’s parents and loved every minute of it. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “It counts for nothing when stacked against his fear of it happening again.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Give him the space he asked for. That’s all you can do. If he comes back to you and the kids, it must be his choice.”

  “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. Everything between us was perfect until last night.”

  “You had to expect there’d be some difficulties along the way.”

  “Absolutely, but I also expected we’d get through them together.”

  “It’s important to manage your expectations where he’s concerned. He was adamant that he’d never again be with anyone. He preferred that plan to having to worry about losing someone else he loved. You’re the exception to his rule. You’re still the exception.”

  “Not if I have breast cancer.”

  “Don’t even say that.”

  “Why not? It’s possible. I mean, anything is possible. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow when I’m out getting my mail. Living in fear of what might happen is no way to live.”

  “I agree, but that doesn’t stop us from being afraid. I want to ask every man I date whether he’s had a full cardiac workup recently, but I can’t exactly do that without them thinking there’s something wrong with me.”

  That makes me laugh for the first time all day.

  “It’s not easy to come back from what we’ve been through, and it’s not easy to take a second chance on love. I’ve seen you two together, and I’m sure he loves you as much as you love him.”

  “So what do I do while he tries to decide if he can handle the possibility of losing me?”

  “You wait and you be patient and you show him the same grace you’d want others to show you if you were wrestling with something.”

  “How has the lump in my breast become about him?”

  “It’s about all of you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is. God, Christy, what am I going to do if this turns out to be cancer?”

  “Take it one step at a time. When are you seeing the doctor?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Then just keep breathing until there’s something to worry about. It could be nothing.”

  “But what if it’s something? My kids…”

  “Breathe, Iris. Are you breathing?”

  “I’m trying to, but it’s not easy.”

  “There’s no sense going to the worst-case scenario until you know for sure that it’s something bad.”

  “What would you do if you found a lump?”

  “Freak the fuck out like you are for the same reasons. We’re single moms. We have no time for illness. But I still think you need to try to stay calm until you know more. Making yourself sick over it isn’t going to change the outcome.”

  “You’re right. It’s so hard not to go to worst-case when I’ve been living it for almost three years.”

  “Believe me, I understand. It’s easy for me to say calm down, but I’d be just as worked up. Do you want me to come over?”

  “No, thank you. I’m okay. I’ll know more tomorrow.”

  “Keep me posted?’

  “Yes, I will. Thanks for listening to me go on and on.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. And try not to worry about Gage. He’ll be there if you need him. You know he will.”

  I know no such thing, but I keep that thought to myself. “Thanks, Christy. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Call me tomorrow.”

  “I will.”

  26

  IRIS

  After I end the call, I strip off my clothes and head for the shower. Standing under the warm water, I check my breast to see if the lump is still there. It is. I’m terrified of what it might turn out to be. I’m so anxious, I barely sleep and am up before my alarm. The kids are still asleep when I go downstairs to make enough coffee for me and my mom.

  She comes in through the door to the garage shortly after eight and hugs me. “I’m so glad you guys are home. We missed you.”

  “We missed you, too.” I make her a cup of coffee and add half a teaspoon of sugar to it.

  “Thanks, love. So how was it? The pictures were great.”

  “We had a wonderful time. Gage’s in-laws are lovely people. They were so happy to have us visit.”

  “Was it awkward at all?”

  “Not really. They’re super supportive of him and glad to see him doing well and moving on.”

  “Still… I can’t imagine how hard that must be for them.”

  “Everything’s hard after a loss like theirs, but they’re making the most of it. They were very welcoming and so sweet to the kids. She had bags of gifts for each of them. She said it was so fun to shop for kids again.”

  “That is sweet. One grandma to another, I feel so sorry for her losses.”

  I glance at the clock. “I need to go get dressed for my appointment. The kids are sleeping in. They were extra tired after the trip.”

  “Go ahead. I’m going to watch the Today show.”

  After I get dressed, Laney comes in looking for me. I scoop her up and take her downstairs and deliver her to my mom, who’ll oversee breakfast for them. “I shouldn’t be too long, Mom.”

  “Take your time,” she says, snuggling with Laney. “We’re fine.”

  I drive the short distance to my doctor’s office, trying not to think about any of the worries that kept me awake most of the night. I thought maybe I might hear from Gage this morning, but so far, nothing, which makes me sad and angry. How can he do this to me? To himself? Things were so good, and now he’s just gone? All because of a lump that may or may not be anything to worry about?

  I just can’t wrap my head around this development.

  The doctor is already running late, and I’m forced to wait nearly thirty minutes alone in an exam room wearing one of those stupid gowns.

  A knock on the door precedes her entrance. She’s pretty, with light brown hair, brown eyes and flawless skin. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” She washes her hands. “I had a baby arrive at six a.m., and that little darling has thrown off my entire day.”

  “No problem.” What’s thirty extra minutes when you’re waiting to hear if you have a dreaded disease?

  “Let’s see what’s going on, shall we?”

  I lie back and bare the breast in question. As she gives it and the other one a very thorough examination, her expression never changes until she returns to the first one and zeros in on the area where the lump is.

  “There’s definitely something there that shouldn’t be.”

  My insides fold in on each other in a cascading tower of fear and panic.

  “That’s not to say it’s something sinister, so don’t go there. I’ll send you for a mammography and, if warranted, an ultrasound.”

  “I’m trying not to have a full-blown panic attack here.”

  “Don’t do that. It won’t help anything.” She types the orders for the tests into the computer and tells me where to go. “They’ll be expecting you.”

  I try not to make a thing out of her saying they’ll be expecting me, but it’s hard not to. Did she put some sort of flag on the orders that says urgent/possible breast cancer or something like that? I’m so scared and rattled, I can barely unbutton my shirt at the mammogram place, so I pull it over my head without unbuttoning it. I put on the smock and meet the technician in the freezing-cold room where she smashes breasts for a living.

  As this is my first mammogram, the tech takes a little extra time to explain what will happen, to tell me it’ll be uncomfortable, but only for a few minutes, and that I should tell her if it’s too painful.

  Lovely. Now I’m even more stressed out than I was before.

  She positions me where she needs me and manhandles my breast like it’s a side of beef. I suppose she does this a hundred times a day, and one breast is the same as another to her. The smashing hurts. Badly. I have tears in my eyes by the time it’s over, and then I find out she wants a side view, too.

  We repeat the entire ordeal on the other side, and then she asks me to wait in the room until she’s sure she got what she needed. I wait for a long time, shivering from the cold as much as the fear. Will those images change my life?

  I’ve never experienced fear quite like this, even in the dark days after I lost Mike. Somehow, I knew I could handle raising our kids on my own if I had to, but this… I can’t handle this.

  She returns with another woman, who gives me a kind smile that sets my nerves further on edge. “If you’ll come with me, we’re going to do an ultrasound.”

  That means they saw something worrisome on the mammogram.

  “I, uh…” I’m paralyzed. I couldn’t move if I had to.

  “Let’s see it through before we jump to any conclusions, okay?” the second woman says, her tone kind and reassuring.

  I nod and manage to rise to my feet and follow her to another freezing-cold room. “Why is it so cold in here?” I ask when she settles me on an exam table.

  “It’s for the equipment.”

  “Freeze the patients and save the equipment. I see how it is.”

  She laughs. “We get complaints about it every day.” She puts a blanket over me that I’m immediately thankful for.

  The ultrasound is painless but seems to take forever as both breasts are thoroughly examined. When she’s finished, she says, “I see two areas I’m concerned about. One in each breast.”

  Dear God, just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse. “Wh-what does that mean?”

  “I’d recommend we biopsy both areas.”

  “Do… Is… Is it cancer?”

  “We can’t know for certain either way without the biopsies. Do we have your consent to proceed?”

  I want to say no. Hell no. I do not consent to any of this. I’m a single mom to three young children. There’s no way I can have cancer. The universe wouldn’t be that cruel to me, would it?

  “Iris?”

  “Yes, you have my consent.”

  She summons other people to the room, and they get busy prepping me for the procedure.

  “We’ll numb you up, so it shouldn’t be painful, but you’re apt to experience a pinch or two, all right?”

  “Um, okay.” I’m shaking so hard I wonder how they’ll be able to do anything to me without tying me down.

  Everyone is very efficient, like this is no big deal to them when it’s the biggest of big deals to me. My whole life is riding on the results of these tests, and I can barely hold it together as they do the needle biopsies. The “pinch” is slightly more than that, but it’s not unbearable.

  “We’re all done,” the woman in charge says after they’ve done both sides. “We’ve included markers to identify the sites so we’re able to get right back to them if need be.”

  “When will I know?”

  “A few days.”

  “Ugh.” How will I survive waiting to hear that kind of news? How will I function? I can’t tell my parents because I don’t want them to be as upset as I am. As I put my bra and top back on, I try to summon some inner calm, but there’s none to be found, and there won’t be until I get those results.

  I’m completely numb with fear, anxiety and despair, and I feel desperately alone without Gage to tell me everything is going to be okay.

  * * *

  GAGE

  After the accident, I couldn’t stop crying. Tears for days and days, until my eyes ached as much as my heart did. There were times during that early darkness when I wondered if I was destined to cry for the rest of my life. Eventually, the tears dried up as I was forced to confront the fact that I had a lot of living left to do without my girls.

  Since I left Iris’s last night, the tears have come back with the same intensity I experienced right after the accident. I miss Iris so much, I ache from wanting her, which is ridiculous because I chose to leave. And I feel like the biggest asshole for leaving when she’s stressed out and panicked over what that lump might turn out to be.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? Right when I was putting my life back together and moving in such a positive direction with Iris and her kids, I lose my shit over a lump? I hate that I left. I hate that the stupid lump triggered such an enormous backslide. I hate that I’m so terrified of losing her that I ran from her. I hate everything about grief and the way it can bitch-slap you in the face right when you’re making a comeback from the lowest point in your life.

  I hate everything about this situation, but more than anything, I hate myself for leaving when she needed me most.