Page 65 of The Work Wife

The trip back to his apartment was one of the most wretched things Wes had ever had to do. Jamie jumped from emotion to emotion in the twenty minutes it took to get home. She started with anger, worked her way through betrayal to arrive at agony and defeat.

By the time they arrived, she seemed to be back to anger, and it was directed at him.

“You should have told me.”

“I promised him I wouldn’t. He wanted this trip to be normal. He’s getting ready to go to battle, Jamie. He wanted to have a few normal days with his daughter to prepare for that, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to take any chances with his process. If this was what he needed to give him the strength to get through this, I wasn’t going to mess it up.”

“You should have told me,” she repeated, but with less vehemence. She used her key to let them in the apartment.

“And what would have happened? This? The crying and the worrying? He wanted to spend time with you as your dad, not as a patient, not as a burden. I understood.”

“My dad would never be a burden.”

“I know he’s not a burden, but the worry is. He can’t stop you from worrying, but he could avoid having to see it in your eyes every time you looked at him. Can you blame him? If you were on the other side of this, what would you have done?”

He hadn’t noticed she was picking things up around the living room. He thought she was just straightening up as a way to expend pent-up rage, but she was . . . packing.

She dried off her favorite coffee mug and set it on the counter next to her hot mats.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes. I don’t really live here. I’m as much of a liar as my father.” She shook her head and tossed some dish towels into a box.

“Why don’t you stay tonight? You can pack tomorrow. I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I’m fine.” Apparently the word fine meant something different to the Witmer family. “I want to be alone.”

Rather than push her, he went around gathering her things and helped carry the few boxes out to her car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work?” he checked.

“Yeah. Thanks again for letting my father and me stay here for the weekend.”

“No problem. Anytime.”

He watched her drive away and then went back to his apartment. For a few days, he’d been part of a family. With all the messy emotions that came with them. Now, he was on the outside again. Alone.

* * * *

Jamie tossed and turned for hours. Her father had texted to say he was home, but when she called he didn’t answer. He simply wrote back.

I’m sorry. I’m not ready to talk yet.

She looked at her alarm clock at the very instant it flipped to midnight. Her brain wouldn’t shut off. While the rest of her was exhausted, her mind was more than able to present worst-case scenarios over and over. Wes had relayed all the information her father had shared.

He would be starting chemo first, then they would follow that up with radiation. They would give him time to recoup from that and then he’d have surgery to remove what was left of the cancer. His doctors were giving him good odds, but they weren’t 100 percent.

Her newest fear—that he might give up on his treatment—was interrupted by a light knock at the door.

She sat up, wondering if she’d imagined it. When it happened again, she propelled herself out of bed to rush to the door. She knew who it would be and she needed him more than her next breath. He was right, she shouldn’t be alone.

In her hurry she opened the door without first unhooking the chain and had to fumble to get the door open. As soon as she did, large, warm arms surrounded her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I know he’s not my dad, but I’m scared too. You’re not in this alone.” He pulled her closer and she heard the sound of his bag sliding from his arm to the floor. “Let’s get some sleep.”

She nodded and took him to her room. He kicked off his shoes and got in her bed, taking up most of it.