I take a seat on her white couch, another breathtaking view through the window. This time New York City. And then Rose sinks down on the cushion, turning her body towards mine.
She rubs my leg. “Connor…”
I take her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together slowly. I try to speak, to let it out, but I shake my head and pinch my eyes as they outflow. Why is this so hard? Why doreal emotions have to be so devastating? Why do they have to cripple me?
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
But I do. I need to fucking say it. “I hate her…” I start. The first thing that comes out of my mouth is impudent and juvenile. I can’t take it back. I just keep going. “I hate that she has continued to blind me. No matterhowwide I open my eyes, there’s been a haze that only she could clear. And she made me believe that I was walking in the fucking clear sky.” I pinch my eyes again, and I actually scream, one that burns my throat. “I am so?—”
“Don’t you dare saystupid,” she snaps. “You’renotstupid, Richard.”
“I feel like an idiot,” I tell her. “I was fooledby my own mother for two fucking years, Rose. Two years, and she couldn’t find it in her heart to tell heronlyson that she has breast cancer? That she’sdying?” My throat swells as the truth bears down on me. “She made me believe I’d be taking over Cobalt Inc. in five years, maybe ten. And this whole time, she knew I’d be taking it in two months.”
Rose’s mouth falls. “Two…months?”
“Two months. That’s how long she has left.”I extend my arms. “And she didn’t think it was important to tell me.”
Not until now. She was scared. I saw the fear in her eyes at her office. It’s why she’s been regretting and remembering the past. And yet, I can’t pity her. I can’t wish her farewell.
I only hate that it tookdeathfor her to see her mistakes.
And I hate that it’s taken me the same to see mine.
I unlace my fingers from Rose, and I hold her one hand in between two of mine, just staring at them for a while. I call her stubborn, but in the past year and a half, I’ve been worse.
I meet those fierce yellow-green eyes. Even in the wake of my pain, she has this resilience that’s more beautiful than words can describe. It’s fire to my water. And I want her to burn me alive.
“You’re the only one who has ever loved me,” I confess, my chest heavy. “Not a mother. Not a father. Not a friend. Just you, Rose.” All these years, I never thought I’d need anyone but me to survive. My mother thought the same.
I was wrong.
“I don’t want to be sixty years old and wishing I opened myself up to the people I care about. I don’t want to look back and regret that I wasn’t a better friend or a better man to the woman I adore.”
She’s already crying. I haven’t even said it yet.
Tears fall down her cheeks, matching mine.
“And I can’t tell you how long I’ve been fighting the truth, but it’s been awhile,” I say.
The next words come from the core of my chest. Each word is like taking on water and breathing in oxygen—a paradox that I enjoy very much.
“I am sodeeplyin love with you, Rose.” I wipe her cheeks with my thumb.
She tries to smile but every time she does, more tears fall. I can tell they’re from a place of joy by the way her eyes light. And then she says, “Ca vous a pris pas mal de temps.”It took you long enough.
I said the same thing to her once. “How long do we have left?”
She finally smiles through the tears. “Forever.”
I draw her to my chest and kiss her strongly, not letting go.
I realize, in this very moment, that love was the only thing missing from my life.
And it’s the only thing that matters to me.
I can live with that.
As stupid as it may seem.
