“Well, I’m glad you’re cooking for me tonight. This is delicious,” I say, spooning some of the mixture out of the bowl. I debate commenting on the last part of what he said, knowing that after I make my last wish he won’t remember the conversation anyway.
But I will—I’ll take every single memory with me. The way Max and Courtney seemed to come together no matter how hard I tried to tear them apart, the way Jules and Ben’s marriage began to unravel, and the look in Liam’s eyes when I told him I didn’t think I could live a life without Max, that I couldn’t give Liam the chance he wanted. I’ll never forget the way my heart broke a little bit when I realized that I was crushing his.
I watch Max as he scurries through the kitchen, pouring the wine, finishing the last touches on our meal, trying to memorize every detail of his face, the way he tilts his head when he’s concentrating, the way his brow furrows as he tosses the salad. I swirl the red wine in my glass and bring myself to ask the question that needs to be answered.
“Max?”
“Yeah?” he responds, still concentrating on the wooden mixing bowl.
“Why do you love me?”
His hands are still clenching the salad tongs and he slowly looks up at me. “Why are you asking me that? Is this about last night? Because—”
“No,” I interrupt, and the forcefulness of my answer makes him flinch a little. “I just want to know.”
He grabs a towel and wipes his hands. “I love the life we’ve built together. We’re a great team, Kate.” He walks over and kisses me. “I love you. I want to make you happy.”
“I know,” I say, unable to meet his eyes. I knew he meant his words. I had witnessed his determination in putting Courtney aside for me, all in the name of our happiness. I grab him and pull him in tight, burying my face in his neck, drinking in his spicy smell, trying to freeze this moment in my head.
Finally, I pull back and Max stares at me, waiting for me to say more. “I want you to be happy too,” I say as I kiss him, forcing the corners of my lips into a smile as I turn toward the stairs.
“Where are you going? Dinner’s ready!” he calls after me.
I give him one last look. “There’s something I need to take care of,” I say. “I’ll be right back,” I lie as I head up the stairs and grab my phone off the dresser before I can change my mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Back where it all began. #wouldnthaveitanyotherway
I sense the change in scenery even before pulling open my swollen eyes, remembering the way the fluffy white down comforter had wrapped around me like a cocoon that morning, no doubt Jules’ handiwork after I had finally passed out the night before. I sit up slowly, inhaling the salt in the air through the slightly ajar sliding glass door and look over to my right, where I already know I’ll find Jules slumped in a stiff wingback chair in the corner, watching me intently.
“Oh, honey,” she says, her tear-stained face softening when she sees I’m awake.
I swallow, my throat dry and scratchy, and I reach up and rub it.
It worked. I’m right back where it all started.
I hold my body still, waiting for the crippling emotion to cascade through me as Jules perches on the edge of the bed, her bloodshot eyes regarding me. I force my eyes away from her, to the area of the room where I’ll locate the one thing that will signify this is actually happening.
“Kate?” Jules’ voice sounds raw.
Feeling as if I’m watching a movie of my life, I look toward the closet, my chest seizing for a moment when I fixate on my wedding dress hanging there, steamed and waiting to be worn. I stare at it for several seconds, bracing myself for the fear to set in, waiting for the panic to be unleashed, the doubt to ensue. But the only emotion I feel is relief.
“Say something, please,” Jules tries again, and I cover her hand with mine and smile. “You’re smiling?” She half laughs.
I nod. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I say.
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be telling you?” Jules frowns and places the back of her hand against my forehead like she had when Evan had strep throat last month. “What were in those pills your mom gave you last night? Because this is not at all how I thought you’d react when you woke up this morning.”
“Me either,” I say, thinking how, when I decided to bring myself back to this day, I had been sure the feeling of losing Max all over again would hit me hard and fast like the snow from an avalanche. I never imagined the opposite would happen, that I would feel as if my lungs had expanded so I could finally breathe.