Chapter 1
Early morning light shines through the heavy drapes lining his walls and forms a thin slit of pure white on the dark carpet. I stare at it, lost in thought. Next to me, Bryan is sleeping. I wrap my arms around him, and his body feels so strong. That’s why this is so hard. It makes no sense. Other than the pain, I can’t see what’s happening to him. It’s internal. His body is killing him, second by second. Eventually, he’ll take a breath and there won’t be another. I can’t stand the thought.
My life has been shaped by death. Everyone I care about, everyone except Maggie, is gone. I slip out of the bed, grabbing my phone before heading down the hall. I text her even though I doubt she’s up.
I text: I’m with Bryan. Just checking in to make sure you’re okay.
To my surprise she texts back: I am, but I have something horrible to tell you.
Nothing could be worse than losing Bryan. I type back: Me too. B home in a lil bit n we can talk.
She replies: K.
I tuck my phone into my pocket before picking up Bryan’s sweatshirt and tugging it over my head. I pull my hands under the cuffs and wander through the mansion until I find the kitchen. I smell coffee and desperately need a cup. Unfortunately, the beast—Bryan’s aunt—is sitting at the table with another woman. They’re both dressed in robes. I blink as shock washes over their faces. I can’t imagine why she’s here so early, not dressed. How weird is that?
Within a heartbeat, Constance is out of her seat and in my face. “How dare you parade around in my sister’s home wearing my nephew’s things? Get out right now, you little whore!” She tries to slap my face, but I catch her wrist.
Things finally click into place. The way the women were looking at each other, the touch of her hand, the way their eyes linger in that familiar gaze, the fact that she’s here when her sister and husband-in-law are gone, and the way Constance turns into a tiger when she sees me—it makes sense. She’s been hiding a secret for years, one that could ruin her forever. That’s why she puts up with Mr. Ferro’s infidelities and why she allows his women to waltz around her home.
Constance is gay—and this woman is her lover. She thought I knew, but I never noticed before now.
She pulls her hand from my grasp and prepares to start yelling again. I interrupt tiredly, “I don’t care about your life or your preferences. I understand it’s taboo for you to be seen with her. I get that, Constance, I really do. I don’t judge you for it, so stop judging me. The only thing of yours that I want is coffee.” I shove past her.
Constance’s chin is on the floor. Her girlfriend, a woman at least ten years her junior, sits rigid, regarding me fearfully. Same sex relationships might be cutting edge and trendy in New York, but not among old money families like this one. This would ruin her. It’s why she hates me. She thinks I’ve been walking around waiting to drop a bomb on her life.
When Constance speaks, her tone is skeptical, “You’ve known for ages and said nothing. Why?”
“Because I don’t care about you.” I keep my back to her as I pour the dark liquid into a heavy cup. It’s too early. Normal people aren’t up at five in the morning. They were probably having morning coffee before parting ways for the day. When I turn to speak, both women are staring at me mortified. “I care about Bryan. Have you not noticed anything about him that concerns you?”
Her gaze narrows. “Don’t toy with me. I know my family, every single one of them.”
“Yeah, well, you might want to talk to him.” She locks her jaw, preparing to order me out, but I add, “Time is a funny thing. We all think we have tons of it until it’s taken from us—then we realize there was never enough to start with. Use the time you have, Constance. Love the people you love and make sure they know you do. The day may come when you wish you had, but the chance has passed you by.”
She stiffens as I speak. “Are you threatening me?”
I laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of her statement. She has no clue. I was referring to me and Bryan, to the constant pool of regret that fills my stomach. We could have been together, but that chance is lost now, time we’ll never have.
“You’re so wrong about everything, sealed in your little bubble, out of touch with the real world. This isn’t your house, so you thought you were safe, but you’re never safe, not from time—not from death. Your nephew...” I swallow hard but don’t break eye contact. “Make sure his mother finds out. That’s all I want.”
The assumption I’m making is massive—that Elizabeth Ferro will care whether her son lives or dies. Bryan hasn’t told anyone about his illness except me. Jon can see it, but the others have no clue. I don’t know how long Bryan has left, but I don’t want him to spend it worrying or fighting. I want to be there to protect him and, by alerting the Ferros to his condition, I probably just made that harder to accomplish—but it’s the right thing to do. If I had an extra second to spend with my dad… The thought lurks in my mind, sunrise to sunset. When night washes the sky with purple hues of ink and speckles of sparkling amber, I wish I had one more opportunity to say all the things I never had the chance to voice. Now, those thoughts are trapped within my soul, holding me captive. I’ll never be free. I never had the chance to say good-bye. I’m giving the Ferros that chance and hoping beyond hope that they don’t toss me out on my ass in reward.
Shoving aside my thoughts, I put my empty cup down and walk out, leaving Constance and her lover gaping in my wake. The two women behind me are children playing house. I may be younger than them in years, but my soul feels ancient. It’s juvenile to think your life is only about you. Life is about the people around you. How I wish I never grew up, but wishing is time wasted and I refuse to fritter away another second.