âHEY, DAD, HOWâS IT going?â
I rest my head in my hands on the kitchen counter. The sound of Christopherâs voice makes my chest burn. I would have video called him, but Iâm not in any fit state to be seen right now.
âGreat, Son. How are you? Howâs Leah?â
âSheâs good, Dad.â
âWhat about Tiger? Did you stay in her Nanâs good-books?â
Christopher laughs down the phone, and it draws a smile out of my sullen face. Iâve heard that laugh so many times over the past twenty-six years, but it still makes my heart swell every time. I can picture the way his face lights up and how he grins so wide, you can see all his straight teethâones that were helped by braces and a complete load of dental appointments I took him to as a kid.
âYeah, Dad. Tigerâs doing fine. Well remembered.â
âHey, Iâm your dad. Itâs my job to remember whatâs going on in your life.â
âHow about you? Howâs the book project going?â
I rub my hand over my eyes. Thinking about White Fire makes me think about Megan.
And thinking about Megan makes me⦠makes me what?
Nausea seeps from my stomach up to my throat, causing it to tighten. I clear my throat, forcing it back down.
âItâs going great. The kidsâ test day was a hit, and Tina finalised cover choices today. Weâre all set for book one to publish now.â
âThatâs great, Dad. But I meant Martinâs book?â
âOh?â
Christopherâs met Martin more than a few times over the years, and theyâve always got on great. If Christopher ever moves closer, I can see the three of us hanging out together a lot.
If Iâm still around, that is.
The phoneâs silent as Christopher waits for me to answer.
âYes, heâs doing great.â I swallow the golf ball thatâs now sitting in my throat. âHeâs almost done with his first draft.â
âThatâs brilliant. I canât wait to read it. Itâs thanks to you, Dad.â
I get up and pace over to the living area window and look out. Itâs still light out. Most people are still at work. Veronica didnât question it when I phoned from outside Joannaâs clinic and asked her to re-arrange my afternoon appointments. Not even though the last time I did it was when Christopher was at school and needed picking up after skinning his knees so deep, he cried for over an hour.
âIâve done nothing. Martinâs the one whoâs put in all the work.â
Christopher tuts down the phone, and I can imagine heâs rolling his eyes at me right now.
âHe told me he couldnât have done it without you. Why donât you give yourself credit, Dad? Youâre always telling me how proud you are of me. You should know, Iâm proud of you too.â
I screw my eyes shut.
âThat means a lot.â
âI mean it. At the risk of getting heavy, I wouldnât be where I am today without you, either. Youâve always believed in me, always been there for me.â
Hearing him say that has my chest burning. Itâs all I ever wanted. For him to know I was there for him, Penelope too. To never feel scared or alone, like I did when I lost my dad. Itâs why it meant so much to me that Penelope and I stayed together until he was an adult. He had to have that safe home environment with two loving, healthy parents. The thought of anything happening that resulted in him having to grow up too fast would have broken my heart.
His happiness means more to me than anything else.
âYouâve always meant the world to me. You know that.â My voice cracks.
âYou sure youâre alright, Dad?â
I rub a hand over my jaw and the dayâs growth thatâs formed.
âIâm fine. Iâm fine. Itâs just been a long day.â
âItâs not over yet. Youâre calling earlier than usual. You sure youâre okay?â Concern creeps into Christopherâs voice. I donât want him wasting his time worrying about me.
I cough and steady my voice. âReally, Iâm fine. I came to work from home this afternoon as I had a headache starting.â
âOkay,â Christopher answers, not sounding convinced.
âI better let you go. Say hello to Leah from me.â
âI will, Dad.â
âLove you.â
âLove you too.â
I end the call and rest one hand up against the glass of the window. The sudden coldness under my palm throws an image of Megan into my mind. Megan stood in front of my bedroom window, nakedâwanting me, trusting me.
How can I ever be the man she thinks I am now?
I canât promise her a future.
I canât promise her anything.
They could find out the cancer has spread during surgery next week. Even if it hasnât, the chances of it coming back are high.
Sheâs only thirty, for Godâs sake!
She has her entire life ahead of her. I canât be the selfish prick who ties her to me when I donât know whether Iâll even be here in a few years. I should have kept away from her. I knew this would happen. Deep down, I knew. We were only ever meant to have that one night together and then leave with the memories. She could have lived her life. And I could have dealt with this without involving her or anyone else.
âArgh!â I slam my fist against the glass.
It doesnât fall out and let me tumble to the ground below, which may solve some problems. It doesnât even shudder, just makes a dull thump. I should know itâs too much to hope for a faulty pane in a building designed and constructed by Tanner Graysonâs company. His world-renowned building company is just too damn good. His company did the re-model in the hotel where I met Megan. Surely karma owes me a faulty window, or maybe a dangerous electrical socket after that. What kind of cruel game is the universe playing? Bringing her into my life and then threatening to end it prematurely? Two months of knowing she exists⦠two months of having feelings stirred up inside me⦠feelings I had given up any hope of ever feeling. Iâm not bitter about it. Iâd resigned myself to the fact I wouldnât fall in love. Not the deep, head-fuck kind that makes up the stories in some of the companyâs bestselling novels we publish.
Iâm blessed. I have Christopher. I have a company I love. I have my health.
I had my health.
I never asked for anything more⦠and then she came along.
Now Iâm standing on the edge of a cliff, my balance gone that moment before I fall⦠fall for her.
Only in the stories, I would fly⦠and we could be together.
But this is real life.
And in real life, sometimes you crash.