Lance, Please know these past months with you have been my happiest. I consider myself privileged to have met you and shared these moments together. You will find a wonderful woman who deserves you. Keep being the amazing man you are. All my love, Katie xoxo
My writing, ironically, has benefitted from the heartbreak. I chained myself to my desk to meet my March deadline. All the emotion swirling inside became fuel. My manuscript is finished three weeks early. It’s a sad story—two lovers torn apart by warring families. A tale told a thousand times, yet readers still hold their breath, wondering if love will conquer. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. But most get their happy ending.
I doubt I’ll ever get mine.
Next month, I travel to London for meetings with my agent and new publisher. Seeing Amy will be the one bright part of the trip. Things have been rough for her. Terry can’t come to terms with them being unable to have children—specifically, with Amy being unable to. She calls often, her voice laced with frustration and sorrow.
In her last call, she sobbed. “Amz, get away for a while. Come up here. We can wallow in self-pity together, then go back to London next month and figure things out.”
Rain batters the windows, and the trees bend under the force of the wind. The dogs and I are cuddled on the sofa, fire roaring. They’ve adapted to indoor living beautifully—now I have to drag them outside. They’d rather stay warm at my feet. Sensible creatures.
A sudden banging at the door jolts me upright. Fear slams into my chest. Please, not him again. I close my eyes and beg whatever higher power might be listening. The dogs bark wildly, but the knocking continues.
I creep to the window and peer out.
Amy.
Soaked to the bone, hair limp, mascara down her cheeks.
I throw open the door just in time for her to collapse into my arms.
“He’s left me, Katie,” she chokes out. “He said he needs children in his life. He said he needs to be with someone who can give him that.”
I wrap my arms around her tightly and guide her inside.
“Where is he now?”
She swallows hard. “I came home from work yesterday, and he was packing a bag. He said he was leaving. That time was running out. That he needed to find someone who could givehim a family. He said he couldn’t waste any more years hoping it would happen with me.”
She crumples, and I lower her onto the sofa.
“What am I going to do, Katie?” she sobs. “I can’t be alone again. No one will want me. A barren, single woman in her forties.”
My heart shatters for her.
I pull her into a hug, tighter than before. Nothing I say will fix it. As someone in the same position—not able to have children, struggling to find a partner—you learn to live with the unfairness, but it never stops hurting.
I head to the kitchen, grab a bottle of wine, and pour two massive glasses—each one half a bottle. Then I take out the huge bar of milk chocolate Lance bought me for Christmas.
I never opened it—the inscription always stopped me.
Merry Christmas, Gorgeous. Love you xoxo
Tonight, though, calls for wine and chocolate in industrial quantities.
It won’t fix anything.
But maybe, for one evening, it will help us forget.
Chapter nineteen
Lance
“Tell me again what happened,” I say to Dog for the third time.
“She screwed me,” he shouts. “That conniving bitch has been using my credit card on the sly for months. The minimum payment goes out by direct debit. I never noticed until this week.”
“What’s the balance?” I sigh, trying to take it in. Millie really was too good to be true. For months, she’d been stealing from him—a bit from his wallet here and there, and then outright charging his card. Sweet, innocent Millie was a persona. She’s a con-woman.