There was her job, and her friends. Her favorite ice cream sundae from Betty Rae’s. The barista at The Grind House who knew her name and her regular drink. The bookstore on Second Street that she liked to browse for hours, sometimes accidentally buying the same book twice because it looked so good but she never had time to read. So many things about her life in Kansas City made her happy, and she’d told him her job at Coleman was what could keep her here. Let her continue this life and put down roots here.

She’d told him that starting a relationship with him could risk that and, like an asshole, he’d done it anyway.

All those things together brought him to her doorstep that Sunday afternoon. It was sunny but still cold, typical for March. Teasing everyone with impending spring but still sending down a freezing wind from the north. During the drive to her house he thought about the fact that he’d been diagnosed in October. He’d spent the last six months of his life facing something horrible and gaining the most beautiful thing he’d ever known.

Taking as deep a breath as he could while recovering from the injury to his lungs, he knocked on the door. He waited a full minute before knocking again, but still she didn’t answer. He glanced around her porch and sat on the single step down to the sidewalk. He bent his knees and propped his elbow on one, laying his forehead in his palm.

There was only one thing to do.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called her.

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Lauren dropped her eyes from the road to see who was calling.

Andrew. His name on the screen simultaneously caused her heart to soar and her stomach to drop.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded tentative even to her own ears.

“Hey,” came his deep voice. “Where are you?”

“Driving.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. I like to take a drive when I need to think. I’m somewhere north of town. I don’t even know.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Us.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. “I’m at your house.”

“You are?” She looked at the passing street sign. “I’m sorry. I think I’m like thirty minutes away.”

“It’s okay. It might be easier to talk about this over the phone anyway.”

“Talk about what?”

“Us.” His voice cracked.

She didn’t say anything for several seconds, and neither did he. Neither of them wanted to be the one to say it. To be the one to break both their hearts.

“You don’t want to be together anymore?” she finally asked.