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Scott dropped the bag by the front door. Kelly would be by later in the week to pick up Dylan and drive up to Charlotte, where she would chaperone him to the Bank of America Stadium.
With the venue so close to Charleston, it might as well be home field advantage for the biggest game of the year—only the Panthers would have been better positioned, playing on their own turf, and they’d been knocked out in the wildcard round. On the other hand, Philadelphia wasn’t all that far away, so their fans would make a good showing, as well.
Scott turned and surveyed the living room. Abby’s presence permeated it. There, on the couch, they’d cuddled together the first few days of December, before their lives had fallen apart, sipping coffee and staring into the leaping flames of the gas fireplace. On the floor, Gen’s giant bed still lay, virtually untouched, two shallow dents mute testimony to the time Dylan had spent beside the dog before...
He’d had to explain to Dylan, then, what had happened. Why Abby had left with no goodbye. Why she wouldn’t be back. They’d ended things, and he’d owed Dylan an explanation.
But if the last two weeks had taught him anything, he wasn’t ready for their relationship to be over. He couldn’t control Abby, but he could admit, now, he’d been so wrapped up in his own problems he’d allowed Abby to push him away. He hadn’t fought to keep her. Ironic, of course, given how hard he’d fought to get her in the first place.
Classic athlete, he thought to himself, chagrined.Play to win, but once you’ve won, where’s the challenge?
But she hadn’t stopped fighting for him. She’d flown to Boston, to cheer for him in the biggest game of his career thus far, even after they’d broken up. Could he do any less to try to prove his love for her?
So, he’d spent the ten-thousand dollars to buy an extra Super Bowl ticket at face value. He’d pulled the strings to make sure she’d be sitting with Kelly and Dylan. Then, he’d packed it up in a courier envelope with a long letter, part apology, part promise for the future, part hopeful desire. She’d made her gesture, and he’d turned away. Now, it was his turn, and he could only hope. And wait.
Abby’s hands shook as she slit the top flap of the envelope and removed the heavy, thick packet within. What could Scott be sending to her that would require this? Had he lost Dylan? Was this some kind of legal statement?
A coiling fireball of anxiety knotted itself under her sternum.
Gen, sensing her distress, lifted her head from her bed and slunk to Abby’s feet.
As Dr. Singh had warned, she’d gotten much worse for a while, but even if she’d been relegated to the control, the chemo had finally started working. It would be a few more weeks, still, before they’d find out whether they’d been assigned to the treatment group.
Sinking down, Gen laid her head on the floor. Abby wiggled her foot, sock-clad, and rubbed the spot above the corner of her jaw, at the base of her ear, with her big toe.
Inside the large, yellow envelope, emblazoned with the courier labels, a single, thick security envelope lay, white, with Abby’s name scrawled on the front. The tension in her chest unwound and she ran her thumbnail under the sealed edge. Two pages, hand-written, with one, smaller envelope tucked into the crease. She set this aside, then smoothed the letter on the bar counter.
Dear Abby...
Her eyes burned and she had to blink before she could continue reading.No more crying, she reminded herself. Her new therapist disagreed, but her resolution was only one of a long list of items they’d be working through in the foreseeable future.
And it would be work.
But it would be worth it. If Scott gave her another chance, she wanted to be a better person, a healthier person, for him and for Dylan. And if he didn’t... Her breath caught.
“That would be okay, too. And I would still be a better person. I would stillwantto be a better person.” She said the words aloud, learning to believe them a little more each day. Healing wasn’t linear, and she had to trust the process.
Her eyes dropped to the paper.
Dear Abby,
We won! It feels selfish to begin this letter with that, but I think you’d be happy to know...
Her heart beat faster. They’d won. No other news could compare. The importance of knowing how the hearing had ended eclipsed anything else Scott could say.
... Long story, short, the judge threw out the case. There will be no change in Dylan’s custody agreement, and, without going into a lot of details, I wouldn’t be surprised if she keeps a pretty low profile for a while.
I owe you an apology. A lot of them. I should have told you more about Lindsay sooner. I shouldn’t have let her blindside you like I did. I should have done more to fight for you, no matter what. I shouldn’t have let you go.
I’m worried you’ll think all of this is some kind of high from winning the case. That now, in hindsight, it’s easy to wish I’d handled things better, but what if I’d lost? If she had taken Dylan, would I think differently? And the truth is, I can’t promise I wouldn’t. But I do know this: the way you look at Dylan, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. And the way he looks at you... He adores you. More importantly, he trusts you.
I love you, Abby. I love the way you love Dylan. I love the way you love your kids, the way you celebrate their recoveries and the depth of your grief when you lose one. I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about Gen and your work together, your passion as you talk about the training and the relationship between the two of you.
I love the way you support me. That night, you could have named a million reasons why our relationship wasn’t working. You could have blamed me, and you wouldn’t have been wrong – I wasn’t being the person you needed me to be. You could have used Gen as an excuse. But you didn’t. You said, “I won’t be the reason you lose Dylan.”
I want you to be a part of my life, of our lives. I want to be there for you for as long as you have left with Gen, whether it’s months or years. I want to hold you when the time comes and remind you you’ll never be alone again.
I’m sorry