“There can’t be a future for us,” I whisper through the heaviness in my throat, my body physically fighting what I’m about to do. “Because I don’t have one.”
His body stills, the silence in the room deafening as his hand drops to his side. “What are you talking about?”
My fingers drift to the scar beneath my collarbone. The one he’s traced dozens of times.
“This,” I whisper. “It’s not from some minor surgery.”
“There’s no such thing as minor when it comes to the heart.”
“I know.” I close my eyes, steeling myself to get through this. “A little over a year ago, I collapsed at work.”
He straightens, his gaze sweeping over me. I see the physician in him now. The way his attention sharpens. “What was the cause?”
“Arrhythmogenic right ventricular cardiomyopathy.”
His face goes pale, his breathing becoming shallow. He may not be a heart surgeon, but based on his reaction, he knows exactly what that is.
And the prognosis.
“They tried medications. Procedures. Nothing worked. Eventually they told me my heart was too weak to keep beating on its own.” My voice wobbles but I force it steady. “So I got a new one.”
I don’t tell him whose heart I received. He made his choice on that matter clear. I can at least honor his wish in regards to that.
“It saved my life, but it’s not permanent. I have fifteen years. Twenty if I’m lucky.” I swallow hard. “Maybe less.”
Silence crashes between us as he stares at me, unblinking.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just…” I glance up at the ceiling, attempting to collect my thoughts. “Everyone else who knows the truth looks at me like I’m already gone. Like I’m temporary.” My voice breaks. “You didn’t. You looked at me like I was… whole.”
A single tear slides down his cheek. “You are whole.”
“But I’m not forever.”
He squeezes his eyes shut as a sob slips free. I want to go to him. Wrap him in my arms. Assure him it will be okay.
But it won’t be.
Nothing I say or do can change this.
“It’s why I left home. Bought a van and started traveling the country. Avoided planting roots anywhere. And then I met you.”
My voice cracks, all the emotions I’ve kept inside since waking up with a new heart rolling through me.
“And for the first time, I wanted to stay. Wanted to belong.”
His eyes soften, and I can practically hear his response. That Icanstay. That Idobelong here.
“And that’s exactly why I need to go. You’ve already lost so much. Your kids have already lost so much. I won’t make you go through that again.”
With a shaky hand, I reach into my back pocket and pull out the folded paper, studying it for several long moments.
When I started writing it during Jemmy’s nap this afternoon, I wasn’t sure if I was going to give it to him. But now I know this needs to happen.
“Here.” I extend the paper toward him.
He eyes it warily, but takes it anyway. “What’s this?”
“My resignation.”
