The Life You Stole (Life Duet 2)

I flipped to the back page again and chose the bookend excuse. The two-story Porter library had bookends, some very expensive and heavy ones scattered on different shelves. If I reached for a book on a shelf above my head and accidentally pulled the bookend off the shelf with the book, it would hurt. A lot. And it would leave a significant bruise and swelling.

Opening my nightstand drawer, I retrieved a pen and put a line through the bookend excuse so it didn’t get reused in a moment of mental confusion. It was the eighth excuse in six years. Not all marks required an excuse, just the ones I couldn’t hide with things like a pretty scarf, long sleeves, or layers of makeup.

“What happened?” Ronin answered his phone with grave concern weighing his words.

I drew in a shaky breath to steady my own words. His concern, his touch … it reaffirmed how lucky Evelyn was to have found him. It also reminded me of everything Graham was not.

“Ugh. I’m so sorry.” I faked a tiny chuckle. “You should see my face. Be thankful you only felt it. I’m going to look like a boxer who lost a fight for the next week or two.”

“What happened?” he repeated. No other question mattered at that point.

“I was getting a book from a high shelf in the library. It caught the edge of a bookend—an expensive one I fear—and it landed on my face before tumbling to the floor and cracking into three pieces. I was clumsy and weak from the chemo. I should have asked for help. Again, I’m so sorry. I’m icing it now.”

I closed my eyes, tears stinging behind my eyelids. It sounded believable, even to me. Never … never did I imagine I would—could—be an abused wife making excuses. Listing them. I had a list. That was … soul crushing in a way I couldn’t articulate, even to myself.

“Did you see a doctor?”

“Yes.”

No.

“So you did start chemo?”

“Yes. And I shaved my head. The shedding started clogging the drain.”

“Lila …” Ronin sounded broken in his own way. “I’m sorry. But how are you going to explain this to Evelyn?”

“Well, I have access to the very best wigs. I’m not sure she’ll know. And if she does. I have a plan B.”

Yes. I had a plan B. Just like I had a list of reasons and a husband who abused me. Oh, and I was an orphan who kept secrets from the one person who loved me and treated me like family. I hated lying to Evelyn, but she would forgive me … eventually.

“What is plan B?”

“Hannah Ellis. A young girl in foster care with cancer. She thought I was beautiful … that I looked like a princess. I told her she was the princess, but she said she didn’t have the hair of a princess. I said hair didn’t make a princess. And to prove it, I shaved my head and swore to not let it grow long again until Hannah could grow long hair again too.”

“You said that?”

I smiled, in spite of the ache on the right side of my face that needed some ice. “No. But if you believe me, Evelyn might too. Right?”

He groaned. “Lila … we need to tell her. She’s stronger than you think she is. A phrase she has said to me many times during our marriage.”

“Tell her what? That I have cancer? That I could die? Or we tell her that the only thing that stops you from feeling my pain is when we’re together?” I couldn’t say “holding each other” or “touching.” It felt too intimate.

Ronin’s arms made me feel safe. I needed that. I made him feel whole and normal. He needed that. We needed each other in a way that nobody else could understand. Not even Evelyn. In a small way, I already felt the devastation of a husband needing something from another woman that his wife couldn’t give him. Except Graham didn’t simply need something from Evelyn; he thought he needed all of her. I could be like her, but that wasn’t enough.

“It will destroy her, Ronin. She will never look at us the same way again. Even if she manages to put on her favorite brave face, I’ll see through it. And it will eat away at my relationship with her. It will eat away at your marriage. This won’t last forever.”

“What does that mean?” he whispered. “What won’t last forever?”

“This pain. Either I’ll get better—you’ll get better. Or I’ll …” I couldn’t say it. I thought it. I thought about it a lot. Saying it, though … that was different. Words had many powers. They shaped perception. Sometimes they cut. Sometimes they healed. But every once in a while, words brought actions to life. The law of attraction.