She sets the tray on the bedside table anyway and gives me that look that communicatesdon’t you dare let him talk his way out of food. I nod, and she disappears again.
George exhales slowly, watching the last few minutes tick down. “You know,” he says, “people think dying is the hard part. It’s not. The hard part’s knowing what you’ll miss. The games. The dinners. Watching you screw something up and fix it anyway.” His lips twitch. “That woman, Tori… once all this bullshit settles down, if she makes you want to try, don’t you waste that. Not one damn day. You hear me?”
I swallow hard. “I hear you.”
“Good. Because if you keep waiting for the right time, son, you’ll wake up and realize the right time never came. And then it’s too late.” His hand squeezes mine, papery but steady. “You don’t have to marry her tomorrow or even next year. Hell, you don’t even have to kiss her yet. But don’t you dare keep her out just because Stephanie did a number on you. That’d be letting my daughter’s fuck up keep winning, and her mistakes don’t get that privilege.”
I’m trying so damn hard not to get choked up. He’s right; I know it.
We sit with the weight of every truth spoken today. The horn sounds on the TV, players skating off, and George mutters about bad officiating one last time. I laugh, grateful for the normalcy of it, the ordinariness of our banter layered on top of everything heavy.
When I finally drag my shoes back on and stand, George pats the mattress like he’s stamping me into it. “Same time next week. Don’t come empty-handed. I expect beer, even if I can’t drink it.”
My throat tightens. “You got it.”
“Good man.” His eyes close, but there’s a smile tucked at the edge of his mouth.
I step out into the hall, and Linda’s waiting. She doesn’t say a word—just reaches for my arm, squeezes once. I squeeze back, and lean down to kiss her cheek. Then I walk out into the chill, lungs burning, heart heavier than it was when I came in.
And still, somehow, lighter.
EIGHTEEN
TORI
Past
“Tor,have you seen my blue tie?” Chase calls from our walk-in closet.
I’m trying to keep my cool. Trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary is happening today. Or tomorrow. Or every day for the rest of our lives.
Everything is fine. Totally fine. He’s going on a business trip. Status quo. I’m helping him pack—currently ironing his shirts in our bedroom. Not getting distracted and leavingtheironontheshirtfortoolong—dammit.
“It’s rolled in your tie box—left side, middle,” I call back, yanking the iron away from the white button-down just before it can leave a mark.
Keep your shit together, Tori.
“Found it!” he says. Amazing what happens when you look for something where it belongs.
I finish the six shirts, buttoning each to his specifications—all the way to the top, because God forbid a floppy collar—and slide them into the garment bag with his suit trousers and jackets. Threesuits. Six shirts. Two extra pairs of trousers. Seven undershirts, seven pairs of socks, seven boxer briefs, two pairs of shoes. No toiletry bag—the hotel concierge will handle that before he arrives.
Chase walks out of our closet with four rolled neckties and hands them to me. “Make sure these are steamed before putting them in the garment bag.” Not a request—a demand. Then he leaves the bedroom, and I hear the television click on.
Am I going to steam these? Not today. I turn the iron down to the silk setting, unroll the ties, and run it slowly over each one. They’re flat, as requested. Not burned. He’ll never know the difference.
Once they’re folded over the pants hangers in the garment bag, he’s packed and ready for Boston. Five days.
Five days on the other side of the country, rubbing shoulders with whatever finance bros make him feel both important and inferior. And he has no idea that while he’s kissing their asses, I’ll be packing my shit and leaving.
This is fine. Everything’s fine.
I poke my head out of our bedroom. “Do you have something pulled out in the closet to wear on the airplane?”
He’s holding a beer—of course he is.
“Yes.” He doesn’t even look at me.
“Do you need a tie for it?”
