Best Man for the Wedding Planner

And then there was the fact that she’d had cancer and had been all alone through surgery, recovery, radiation...had she had chemo, too? He didn’t know. Through the fear and uncertainty and days that she must have felt so ill. He couldn’t get the images out of his head—her on an operating table, hooked up to an IV for chemo. Her hair...had it fallen out?

And he’d been off with his friends and family, angry as a mad hornet, nursing his emotional wounds.

If only she’d told him. Trusted him.

He toweled off and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. What was he going to do now? Sit in his hotel room for hours, doing nothing? Why had he thought a week alone was a good idea? The idea of spending the rest of the week here by himself was no longer alluring. It was just...lonely.

What he should do is pack his stuff and head to Calgary, spend a few extra days in the office and then go back to Toronto. Leave all this behind him.

He pulled out his suitcase, put it on the bed and then went to the drawers of the dresser and started taking items out. He’d finished with the dresser and had moved on to the closet when a knock came at his door.

He paused, his hands holding a sweater about eight inches from the case. Holly and Pete were off on their honeymoon. Unless it was staff, there was really no one except...

Adele. She knew which room was his. She’d slept here, for God’s sake.

He put the sweater on the bed and moved to the door. He looked through the peephole, and sure enough, there she was, her face red and her lips a little puffy, as if she’d been crying. He closed his eyes for a moment and considered not opening the door. He could pretend he wasn’t here. Avoid having another disastrous conversation.

There was a raspy sound by his feet, and he looked down to see a slip of paper slide under his door. It was face-up, and simply had the words “I’m sorry” written on it.

What a mess. What a horrible, horrible mess.

He opened the door.

She’d turned to walk away, but swiveled back at the sound of the door opening. He stood there, meeting her eyes, and wondered how a love that had once been so simple and straightforward was now so complicated and painful.

Cancer, he realized. If it hadn’t been for the cancer, he would have put a ring on her finger.

He held out the paper. “I know you’re sorry.”

She came back, her steps cautious and her red-rimmed eyes wary. “I didn’t want to leave things like we did this afternoon.” She took the paper from his fingers. “And we’ve said that to each other more than once this week. Do you think we could...?” She halted, her lower lip wobbling a bit. “Do you suppose we could get it right this time and go our separate ways without one of us getting super angry?”

He stepped back and opened the door wider, a silent invitation for her to enter.

She stepped inside, but halted by the door and looked at her feet. “Should I take off my boots? I don’t want to track snow and dirt onto your carpet.”

“Sure,” he answered. What else was he going to say? Even now, as she bent over to unfasten her boots, he kept picturing her in a hospital bed. He hadn’t been there. And he hadn’t because she’d shut him out. That hurt him more than anything.

She stood straight again and spied the case on the bed. “You’re packing.” Her lips turned down in a frown.

“I was, yes,” he agreed, going back to the bed. He tossed in the sweater, closed the lid and placed the case on the suitcase rack near the closet. “Banff is suddenly feeling very small. I thought I’d spend a few extra days in Calgary. Check out the new offices. See how things are going there.”

“I see.”

His gaze met hers. Lord, she looked so sad. A part of him wanted to reach out, fold her into his arms and tell her it was okay. The other part wanted to shout at her for not giving him a chance to be the man she’d needed.

“Dan, I...” She hesitated for a moment, but then seemed to find her words. “I’m just so sorry. About all of it.”

“We were young. And you were in a highly stressful situation.”

She nodded, looking relieved. “I was. Looking back, I can see how maybe I shouldn’t have made such big decisions in that state of mind. I just knew how much you wanted kids. How big your whole family is on it, and I pictured us as the one couple without any. It seemed so unfair to you.”

He nodded, trying to stay calm. “I should have been in on that decision, though. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I... I was afraid I’d give in, you see,” she said quietly. “That you’d convince me it didn’t matter. You’d say all the right things and I’d love you even more, but then...you’d start to resent me. It would kill our relationship. And that would have killed me, you know? To have more of you. To believe in...forever. I couldn’t. I was just...afraid.”

She took a step forward. “I was afraid of everything. And so I isolated myself.” Her lips dropped open. “I never realized that before. I cut myself off from everyone. Not just you. Everybody.”

He understood what she was saying, even if he didn’t agree with it. And he wasn’t a heartless jerk; he could see she had anguished over it. However angry he was—and had been—he knew this was not something she’d done without thought or feeling. “We would have supported you. Been there for you.”