“Paul? It’s Karen. Karen Williams. Michelle’s sister. I’m sorry to call you, but it’s urgent.”
Paul frowned. “Is everything okay?”
The pause that followed told him everything he needed to know.
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry, Paul. I’m calling because... Michelle asked me to. She’s…” Karen’s voice cracked. “She’s in hospice. In Missoula. She has stage four pancreatic cancer. The medical team said she has days, maybe a week left.”
The words hit Paul like a physical blow. He sank into his desk chair, the room tilting around him. “Pancreatic cancer?”
“They found it two months ago. By then it was already too late for treatment beyond palliative care.” Karen’s voice steadied, and she took a deep breath. “She didn’t want to tell anyone until... well, until it was almost over. She doesn’t want a long goodbye.”
Paul’s mind spun with questions, with grief, with a complicated tangle of emotions he couldn’t begin to process. Michelle was dying. The woman he’d been married to for twelve years, the woman whose departure had carved a wound in his chest that never fully healed, was dying.
He took a deep, steadying breath, and tried to focus on the conversation with Karen. “I’m sorry, Karen. Michelle must be devastated.”
“I know you haven’t spoken to my sister in years,” Karen said gently, “but she asked me to call you. She said there’s something she needs to tell you. Something she should have told you a long time ago but couldn’t.”
Paul’s heart hammered against his ribs. “What is it?”
“She wouldn’t tell me. She said she needed to tell you.” Karen paused. “Paul, I know this is asking a lot. I know your marriage didn’t end well. But she’s my sister, and she’s dying, and she’s asking for you. If you can find it in yourself to come...”
Paul thought about Susan and the promise they’d made to try building something real. He thought about the events he still had to organize, the bookings at the restaurant, and the people who were depending on him.
And then he thought about Michelle. About the marriage that had failed because of his inability to prioritize people over ambition. About the guilt he’d carried for twenty years, the knowledge that he’d destroyed something precious because he didn’t know how to value it properly.
“Where is she in Missoula?” Paul heard himself ask.
“Michelle’s in the hospice wing, room 247, at the Missoula Regional Medical Center.” Karen’s relief was audible. “Thank you, Paul. I know this isn’t easy.”
“When should I?—”
“Soon,” Karen said softly. “She’s lucid now, but the doctor said that won’t last much longer. If you’re coming, come today. Tomorrow at the latest. I’ll be here when you arrive.”
Paul ended the call and sat in his office, the phone still clutched in his hand. Through the door, he could hear the familiar sounds of his kitchen. The rattle of pans as someone took more food from the cooler, Jenny asking about the table assignments for tonight, and Harry’s voice as he moved through the kitchen toward her.
This was Paul’s life. The careful, controlled life he’d built in Sapphire Bay. The sanctuary he’d created from risk and pain and the devastating knowledge that he’d failed someone he loved.
And now Michelle was calling him back to face exactly what he’d been running from.
Paul pulled up Susan’s contact on his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. He should tell her about Michelle, where he was going, and why.
But what could he say? How could he explain that his ex-wife was dying three hours away and asking for him? How could he admit that after twenty years, he still didn’t fully understand why their marriage had ended—and that part of him was terrified Michelle’s deathbed confession would reveal failures even worse than the ones he already knew about.
And more than that—how could he drag Susan into his messy past when they hadn’t even figured out their present?
Paul’s finger moved without conscious decision, starting a text message to Susan instead of calling her.
Something’s come up. Family emergency. I need to be away for a few days. I’ll explain when I get back.
He stared at the message, knowing it was inadequate. Knowing Susan deserved more than his brief message. But he hit send anyway.
Some truths were too complicated to explain in a text. Some conversations required looking someone in the eye. And some wounds were so old and deep that reopening them at the wrong moment could destroy everything.
Paul stood, pocketing his phone before he could see if Susan replied. He found Harry in the kitchen, still working through the dinner prep.
“I need to leave,” Paul said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. “I have a family emergency. Can you handle tonight’s dinner service?”
Harry’s expression shifted immediately to concern. “Of course, Chef. Is everything all right?”
