It hits me that my father hasn’t called me “princess” since my mother passed. This is the first time I’ve heard him say that word. A lump forms in my throat, and then a second later, the tears are flowing freely. I fall into my father’s arms and sob on his shoulder.
“Maybe Graham was right,” my father murmurs as he strokes my short hair. “You’re not the same as your mother.I think maybe you’re happier not knowing.”
“No.” I pull away from his chest and wipe my eyes. “I wanted to know. I’mgladI know.”
At that moment, a man with dark hair and a beard bursts into the study. His brown eyes widen at my swollen eyes and puffy red face. It takes me a second to realize who I’m looking at.
It’s Harry.
And by the look on his face, I can tell he knows everything.
“Camila let me in,” he says. Our eyes meet across the room. “You know…”
Graham whirls around. He shoots Harry a dirty look. “What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be injail?”
Harry returns the dirty look. “They released me this morning.” He looks back at me. “Are you okay?”
I squeeze my hands into fists. “Did you know about any of this… before?”
“No.” He looks as sick as I feel. “I thought you had been in a car accident, same as you did.” He glances at my father. “But then I talked to your dad, and he told me…”
It all makes sense now. I don’t remember doing it, but according to Harry, I called my father every day. And he never returned my calls. Because apparently, I was never calling him in the first place. Graham was keeping me from reaching him so he wouldn’t tell me I was dying.
I look over at Graham. The man who engineered this daily deception for my own good. I still feel like I don’t know who he is. I don’t remember him. I don’t rememberfalling in love with him. I don’t remember marrying him. The drug he gave me took all of that from me.
And I’m glad.
I turn to my husband. “How much time do I have left?”
He shakes his head. “Hard to say. The last time I took you to the doctor a month ago, he said six or seven months.”
My body goes cold. Six months. Six months left on this earth.
If that’s all I have, I’m damn well going to enjoy it.
“Graham,” I say. “Thank you for running my business while I’ve been sick. You’ve done a good job and… I want you to keep doing it. Keep it going. Please.”
He nods slowly, his brow wrinkled.
“But I don’t want to live here with you anymore.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know who you are. And I’m sorry, but I don’t love you. This arrangement needs to end.”
Graham drops his eyes. “I love you, Tess. Maybe you don’t remember me, but I remember you. I want you to be happy. I’ll do whatever it takes…”
“I’m not happy here. And there’s nothing you can do except let me leave.”
His eyes widen. “But where will you…?” He stops mid-sentence and turns to look at Harry. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
Graham looks down at his loafers. His chest rises and falls. “I just want you to be happy, Tess. So whatever you need to do…”
I thought he would put up more of a fight. But he isn’t. He’s letting me go.
For a moment, I wonder if I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe Graham is The One. I married him, after all. He’s the one I had planned to spend my life with. When I thought I had a whole life to spend.
But then I look over at Harry, wringing his hands together. There was always only one person for me. I somehow got lost along the way, but having terminal cancer can show you what’s important.
“Harry,” I say. “Will you let me spend these six months with you?”
