Best Man for the Wedding Planner

She nodded. Her lip trembled.

“Aw, hell,” he murmured, and did what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. He pulled her into his embrace and held on tightly.

* * *

Adele let out the breath she’d been holding at the feel of his arms around her. This was wrong, so wrong. It would just add to the confusion. But since he’d shown up here last Thursday, nothing had been straightforward. She’d been fighting the memories of the past—not just of their relationship and breakup but those horrible, horrible days before and after, when she’d faced the grim reality of illness, recovery and loss.

And she’d turtled. Withdrawn into herself. At the time, she’d thought she was reserving her strength. Focusing. But that wasn’t it. She had been fighting but she’d also been running away.

Now she wondered if she’d ever actually stopped running, or just set up her life so that there was nothing to run from. Simple. No attachments other than Mr. Num-Nums.

“I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” he asked gently. “It’s not like you asked to get sick. Or wanted this to happen.”

“For hurting you. For maybe making the wrong choices, even if they were for the right reasons.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “For not being strong enough.”

He put his hands on her upper arms and pushed her away a little, then bent his knees so they were eye to eye. “Don’t say that again. You’re one of the strongest people I know. Misguided, maybe,” he added, a small smile, curving his lips. “But never w

eak.”

“Oh, I’m weak,” she said, swallowing hard. “I ran away.” And weak because she was loving the feel of his fingers on her arms just now. Had loved being in his arms just moments ago. It was a sensation both exciting and familiar. How many times had he held her when things had gotten tough? When she’d feared she’d bombed a midterm or paper? When she’d caught a horrible cold just before Christmas finals? Or even just simple things, like spilling a cup of coffee or stepping in a puddle, soaking her foot? His arms had always been there.

And she’d thrown that away out of fear. Telling herself it was best for him, but really afraid that she would never be enough to make him happy.

He took her hand and led her to the little sofa. “Come and sit down. I think we’ve finished yelling at each other. Do you want some tea? Some food? You hardly touched your lunch.”

She shook her head. “Though if you want to make coffee in your little machine, that would be fine.”

“Sounds good.”

He readied the water and coffee pod and she took the few moments to steady herself. When he came back over with a cup fixed the way she liked, she smiled up at him. “Thank you. For hearing me out. For not hating me.”

He turned away to make his own coffee, but his voice reached her just fine. “I haven’t walked in your shoes, Delly. I’ll admit I was angry. Am still a little angry, to be honest, but that’s because I was...am...shocked. I’m trying to put myself in your shoes. What would I do if I got a devastating diagnosis? And the truth is, I just don’t know. So I’m trying to wrap my head around it and not judge.”

He came back to the sofa with his coffee and sat beside her. “All I can say,” he continued, “is that the thought of you being so sick and alone hurts me, right in here.” He made a fist and placed it just below his breastbone. “And I’m so sorry that you can’t have children. I know you wanted them.”

The want wasn’t exactly in past tense; Adele still got twinges of pain and sadness whenever someone she knew announced a pregnancy or had a new baby. She’d got better, though, at accepting her reality. There was no sense wishing things were different, because they would never be different.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She wanted to reach for his hand but didn’t; there was making peace and then there was...being too intimate. Instead she cradled her cup and inhaled the rich-scented steam. “But there’s still time for you. I know you want children. Your face, when you told me about your nieces and nephews...you lit up. There must be a special woman back in Toronto.”

He turned his head and his gaze caught hers. “No,” he admitted, “there’s not. I mean, I’ve dated, but it’s never been serious. Not like...that,” he finished.

But she wondered if he’d been going to say “us.”

The room was quiet, too quiet after his statement, and the silence filled with something new, or perhaps something old that was renewed. She found herself staring into his eyes, her lungs cramping as she struggled to breathe. Attraction. Now that the anger and fear were gone, there was room for old feelings to be resurrected. And that scared her horribly.

She turned away and took a sip of her coffee, while Dan cleared his throat, pushing the moment away.

She stayed for an hour, answering his questions about her illness. All the things she should have told him years ago and hadn’t. It was difficult, but when it was over, she felt better, stronger. Holding it in, never telling anyone...it hadn’t been good for her, she realized. In a way, she’d been living her life holding her breath. Working at a job she loved but always with this thing hanging over her.

And yet, in another way, it brought the truth right to the surface again, and it hurt.

The afternoon was waning, and the sun had long since disappeared behind the mountains. She brushed her hands down her jeans and stood up, letting out a big breath. “I really should go. I meant to work this afternoon, and I didn’t. I can catch up on some things tonight. Besides, you probably have plans.” She looked over at him as he stood, too. “Are you still going to leave and go back to Calgary?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It was a knee-jerk reaction because I was frustrated. I don’t feel the need to blast off like I did earlier.” He smiled a little, and it sent a little beam of light into her heart. He always did have a great smile.

“It’s a nice city.”