Page 66 of Things I Wish I Said

Chapter forty-four

RYLEIGH

NINE WEEKS LATER

“You look gorgeous.” Katie beams at me from the perch on my bed.

It’s funny to think I used to loathe the prospect of inviting her into my space, but now I kind of love it.

I never had girl friends I was super close to in high school, so having someone to fuss with over clothes and makeup and hair—even if mine is still growing back—is pretty fun.

It reminds me a little of what it was like traveling with my soccer team, only better because she’s always around, not just on tournaments.

And soon she’ll be my sister, which is pretty crazy to think about. Now that Mom and John no longer have to hide their engagement, she’s busy planning a small informal wedding on New Year’s Eve, so she and John can ring in the new year as a married couple.

“You sure?” I fuss with the neckline of my short-sleeved sweater, then glance down at my jeans. “Should I wear something . . . more formal? Like a dress or something? ”

Katie snorts. “Those jeans make your booty look amazing, and you’re going to a college campus to win back your man, not a business meeting.”

I exhale, trying to quell the nerves jumping in my chest. It doesn’t work. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” Katie grins. “Now, yank the neckline of that sweater down a little more, so he can see your boobs.”

I gasp and slap her arm. “Katie!”

“What?” She gapes at me. “Once I’m in high school, I can only pray I have your rack.”

“Your too focused on the wrong things,” I say, because this isn’t the first time she’s mentioned it. “Besides, boobs aren’t everything. Sometimes they get in the way,” I grumble.

Katie rolls her eyes. “Easy for you to say.”

“I’d better get going.” I sigh and bite my lip, taking another long look in the mirror as I wonder what Grayson will think when he sees me. Since he last saw me, my hair has grown a couple more inches; it’s nearly long enough to style in a pixie cut, but not quite.

I applied my makeup carefully with winged liner and a peachy blush over the apples of my cheeks.

My sparse eyelashes have grown in, allowing me to brush them with two coats of mascara.

Not to mention, I’ve regained the weight I lost with chemo since he last saw me.

I’m still thin, but there’s a lushness to my curves now.

My skin has more color than it did in the summer when I was slightly gaunt and pale with a round face from all the treatments .

“Stop fretting,” Katie says, hopping off my bed and heading toward the doorway.

I frown. “I’m not fretting.” I totally am.

“Uh-huh, sure. Just face it. You’re a total baddie.”

Katie laughs at my eye roll, and I follow her out of my bedroom and into our small living room where Mom is currently boxing up our things.

Since they’re getting married in two months and John’s place is bigger, it makes sense for us to move there, and thanks to Wishing Well, she can sell our place and do so without a load of debt.

Mom pauses her packing the moment I step into the room. Beside her, John glances up at me from the newspaper he’s reading. “You’re all set for your trip?”

“I think so. Victoria just wanted me to stop by her office first, and then I’m off.”

“You have a bag?” Mom asks, eyeing my empty hands.

“It’s already in my trunk. Packed it last night,” I say, because I’d been too nervous to sleep. Grayson is just as likely to refuse to even speak with me as he is to forgive me.

“And you have all your meds, right?”

I nod. “And I already took my doses this morning,” I say, referring to the target therapy and trial drugs I’ve been on for the past two months—the ones that are miraculously eviscerating my remaining cancer when nothing else would.

“Can you think of anything else?” Mom turns to John who smiles back at her like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world .

“Sounds like you have the bases covered.”

“Are you ready for this?” Mom asks.

“No,” I blurt.

“He’ll forgive you. Have a little faith.”

“But it’s been three months since I left him, and we last spoke. He could have a girlfriend for all I know.” The thought sours my stomach.

Mom sighs and steps forward, pulling me into her arms. “Then maybe you weren’t meant to be.”

Her words needle at the hole in my heart.

She pulls back, meeting my eyes. “But if he loved you, really loved you like you think he did, then he won’t have moved on that quickly.”

I want to believe that, but a part of me is worried I’m all out of second chances.

“Okay. Wish me luck.”

I let myself into the De Leon home without knocking or announcing my presence. I’ve been doing this nearly every day for the past three months to the point where this feels like my second home.

After I received the check from Wishing Well, I paid Victoria a visit.

I’ll admit, a part of me had hoped by some miracle—Grayson would still be here instead of at school like he was supposed to be—but after I sat down and thanked her for the money and explained what happened in LA, she invited me back the next day for lunch.

Over the course of a week, I’d spilled my guts to her, explaining everything from the shock of my diagnosis, giving up soccer, my treatments, and coping with all the changes of graduating high school, and accepting John, while she shared what it was like to lose her husband, Antonio, and watch Grayson spiral.

Once we’d both shed our emotional baggage, I thought our daily coffee sessions might come to an end.

Much to my surprise, she invited me back the following week.

This time, for a job. Turns out, Wishing Well is going national, and she needed someone to help overlook the day-to-day running of a nonprofit while she focused on funding and preparing for launch.

Maybe Victoria De Leon was simply lonely, or maybe she genuinely enjoyed my company. Maybe I’ll never know her true motivations for opening up to me, but I’ll be forever grateful. She gave me a purpose without realizing it, an unbiased ear, and the direction I was so desperate for.

My footsteps echo off the walls and high ceilings as I make my way through the foyer.

The kitchen and living room come into view, the most impressive part of the De Leon home, and as I take the hallway to Victoria’s office at the back of the house, I can’t help but think of the first time I came here with Grayson.

I’d been in awe of the place, but now I’m used to it.

That first time feels like a lifetime ago .

I pause outside the open French doors and knock on the doorframe.

Victoria spins around, her smile spreading when her gaze finds mine. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks.” I manage a smile, but my nerves are getting the best of me.

“You’re nervous.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “It’s been a long time. What if he hates me?”

Victoria stands, takes my hands in hers, and squeezes. “He doesn’t.”

“Do you know that?”

What I’m really asking is if he’s asked about me in any capacity.

Victoria shakes her head. She’s not one to pull punches, and I like that about her. It reminds me of myself.

“He hasn’t spoken your name since the week he got home, but sometimes, mothers just know these things.”

Her words give me little consolation.

I nod toward the desk where her laptop is open to a real estate listing. “Did you find a place yet?” Part of taking Wishing Well national means finding office space. Victoria’s office will no longer suffice.

Victoria shifts, leaning against the edge of her desk and giving me a better view of the computer.

“I think I like this one. It’s new and in a great location.

I made us an appointment to see it next week when you’re back.

” Then turning back to me, she asks, “Did you get the reservation info I sent you? ”

“Yes. You didn’t have to do that.”

She waves me off. “Nonsense. I wanted to. Consider it a work expense. After all, you’re going to school for your MBA as my employee, with an emphasis on marketing so you can help grow the company. It’s the least I could do.”

While it’s true I’m headed to Northern Virginia Community College tomorrow to enroll early for classes in the spring, Victoria has done a hell of a lot more than that for me in the short time I’ve known her.

I chew my lip as my thoughts darken. “Unless Grayson wants nothing to do with me, then I might as well go to a community college closer to home.”

“Not going to happen.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” I grumble.

“You made the triple chocolate chunk cookies he likes?”

I nod. Turns out, I love baking. “I have them in the car.”

Victoria reaches behind her to her desk and scoops up a piece of paper, handing it over. “I jotted down his class schedule today. He has only one this morning and another at midday. After that, he might be harder to track down.”

I glance at the paper and realize if I want to catch him outside of his second class, I’d better get going. “Thanks.”

“Let me know how it goes, will you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It takes everything in me to turn around and walk back out the door, because once I get to George Mason and confront Grayson, there’s no going back. He’ll either forgive me or he won’t. We’ll either be together again, or my heart will be broken.

The waiting is torture, but the waiting means I don’t have to face the risk of rejection.

I slide inside my car and make the drive to Fairfax. It’s only an hour forty-five minutes from Lincoln, and the time passes quickly.

I park in visitor parking and start toward Krug Hall where Grayson has his noon class.

It’s a beautiful sunny day, the temperature an ambient seventy degrees, and it shows.

People are everywhere: congregating outside the buildings, sprawled out on the lawn, talking outside of classes, and walking in droves on the sidewalks into the city.

A short time ago, this would’ve been my life. I would’ve been a student at a huge campus like George Mason, headed to and from practices and games.

Funny how it no longer hurts to think about. I’m oddly content with the future I’ve planned for myself, and completely satisfied with my present, with the exception of one thing . . .

I reach Krug Hall with time to spare, so I hover outside the main doors, too afraid to go further and miss him, and wondering what I’ll do if he heads out some alternate exit.

Pushing the thought aside, I exhale, trying to steel my nerves and prepare myself for the moment I see him. Will he turn and walk away without so much as a word? Will he tell me to go home? Yell and shout? Embarrass me in front of the other students ?

I have no idea what to expect, but most of the outcomes I’ve pictured over the last month have gone sideways. I can only hope he’ll understand once I explain.

A torrent of students spill from the doors, and I glance at the time, confirming Grayson’s class has likely ended.

I take a few steps back, until I’m hovering more than six yards away, taking in every face in search of him when I spot him.

He exits beside two other students. One of them is a girl. She’s gorgeous, with long blonde hair, and even longer legs, doe eyes, and a bright smile.

The three of them hover in the doorway as the other students step around them.

She smiles up at him and laughs at something he says while he shakes his head.

The sight of it makes me nauseous.

The guy they’re with stretches his arm out, and they bump fists. Then Grayson turns and heads this way.

I swallow, stepping closer to the sidewalk at the same time Grayson lifts his head.