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Nathan tossed his briefcase onto the kitchen counter and strode to the front door. He had to see Helen, now. Had to tell her what he’d done.
He opened it with a tug and jolted with surprise when he saw her on his front step. It was as if his need had conjured her into being. “Helen! I was just coming to see you.” In the scant time since he’d parked his car the desultory rain had morphed into a downpour. “Quick, get inside. You’re getting soaked.”
She slipped past him, the dampness intensifying the cucumber scent of her shampoo. Desire stirred in his groin, but he suppressed it. They had too much to talk about before he could even consider that thought.
“Let’s go in the living room.” He gestured and she walked through the opening that led to the formal space. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually sat there. He split his time between the kitchen, his bedroom, and the study, where he had a TV, bar fridge and a recliner. What else did a man need?
This man needs Helen.
He still couldn’t quite believe he’d turned down the promotion. When Larry had made his offer, it was as if a switch had flipped, convulsing Nathan with the force of a 120-volt current. Suddenly he could see his futures bright and clear—one with Helen, and one without. Larry had been stunned at his refusal, but Nathan had made a living trusting his gut, and his gut had shouted a resounding no.
Maybe all he’d needed was the validation of being offered the position. Turning his back on a dream he’d held for so long had been easy.
Much easier than leaving Helen.
She turned toward him and his tumbling thoughts screeched to a stop at her set, intense expression.
“What’s wrong?” His mind made a muscular leap, as if his brain had squeezed into a fist. “You got the results back.” When he’d rejected the promotion, he’d known he was choosing a future that might involve a battle with cancer. His heart had made a simple calculation—any time with Helen was better than no time at all. He had hoped they’d have a day or two before having to deal with reality, though.
“Not officially.” A bead of rain slid down the bridge of her nose and she swiped at it absently. “We need to talk.”
The shoulders of her thin blouse and the flowery material of her skirt were damp with raindrops. Her hands clasped and unclasped in an uncharacteristically nervous tell.
Her agitation only amped up his anxiety. He wanted to take her in his arms, promise her everything would be okay, even if they both knew it might be a lie. “What’s going on, Helen?”
“I think we should break up.”
His lungs clogged for a suffocating instant, and then the air escaped with a frantic whoosh. “What?” Her statement was so far removed from his own thoughts he grew dizzy.
She lifted her chin and met his confused gaze. “I have an appointment with my doctor on Monday. She’s going to tell me I have cancer.”
Her confirmation of his deepest fears brought a sour taste to his mouth. He knew he had to say something, anything, but icy dread froze the words on his tongue.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done and said during the last weeks.” Her smile lifted one corner of her mouth, as if she were too tired to raise both. “But I can’t ask you to go through this again. It wouldn’t be fair.”
He shook his head, hoping to clear out the buzzing sensation filling his ears. It didn't help. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand?” Helen paced to the gas fireplace and laid one hand on the mantle, standing with her back to him. “I have cancer. You’ve been a good friend, but this would be above and beyond the call of duty.” She paused, sucking in a breath, then continued, her voice low and choked. “It’s best if we don’t see each other anymore.”
“Friend? You think that’s all I am?” He’d gambled away his promotion, betting she would love him back. If not today, then someday soon. Only hours later, she was severing their ties.
She turned to face him, her shoulders held back in military precision. “That’s what we agreed, isn’t it? Friends with benefits?” This smile was wider than her first, but her eyes were glassy, unseeing. “I don’t see the benefit for you anymore, so it’s time to end it.”
“Damn the benefits, Helen.” He strode toward her and gripped her upper arms. “You need me for more than sex. I know you do.”
“It’s okay, Nathan, really. I told Megan about the biopsy, so she knows this is coming. Sven and Jamie at Golden Dragon know, too. And I have the Silverberries, thanks to you.”
He froze. He’d done this to himself. He’d encouraged Helen to share her worries with others, because he’d wanted her safe and cared for when he left. Was it any wonder she was breaking it off with him now? She had no expectations that he’d stay.
“This is for the best, Nathan.” Helen’s tone was gentle yet firm. “You can go on with your life without all my messy problems.”
He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled, and his intensity frightened him so much he let her go and stepped back, hands raised. He could fix this. She didn’t know his news yet. When he told her, she would understand. She had to. “I’m not leaving. I turned down the promotion.”
Her eyes widened. “You what?”
“They offered me the promotion this morning, and I turned it down. I’ve already broken the news to my boys.”
If anything, Helen looked more frantic, not less. “You can’t do that. You have to call them, tell them you changed your mind.”
“I can’t. I won’t.” His gut cramped. He’d been so sure. The thought that Helen would push him away had never occurred to him. Which, now that he thought of it, was incredibly stupid. She’d been nothing but encouraging, had been instrumental in introducing him to Stanley Allbright and Oscar Thames.
Oh, god, what had he done?
For long, painful moments he stared at her. He had so much to say the words jammed in his throat and left him speechless.
“I’m sorry, Nathan. So, so sorry.” Helen’s voice broke and she ran past. A moment later he heard the door open, the pounding of rain on the brick of his front path, the snick of the latch, and then humming silence.
She was gone.
––––––––
HELEN RACED INTO HER house and slammed the door behind her. Pressing against it, she moaned low and long, and then slowly slid down the panel to the floor, drawing her knees up into a ball.
It was raining so hard the short trip to and from Nathan’s had soaked her to the skin. But it wasn’t the chill from the deluge that racked her body with shudders.
She’d done it. She’d set Nathan free. But she’d been too late. She couldn’t believe he’d turned down the promotion he wanted for so long. He’d sacrificed his dreams for her.
Her forehead pressed onto her knees, another moan escaping. She should have been strong enough to send him away weeks ago. Should never had given in to her need for comfort, for passion, for love.
She’d ruined everything, and now neither of them had anything.
She may have known him for twenty years, but it was only in the last two and a half weeks that she’d come to understand him. Not just because they’d had sex—although that certainly had something to do with it. It was impossible to hide your inner self when your outer self was bared and naked. She had hurt him—unintentionally, true, but that didn’t make it better—and he’d forgiven her. He’d struggled with her potential cancer—and still stood by her side. They had shared days and hours and minutes together in ways they never had before—and she’d fallen in love.
It wasn’t the same as in her twenties. Not better or worse, just different. They were both only fifty-five. In other circumstances, they could have had another twenty, thirty years, maybe even more.
She struggled to her feet, toed off her sandals and padded damply to her bedroom. In the en suite, she stripped and turned on the shower. Once the water was hot enough—punishingly hot, as she deserved—she stepped in.
It was time to get a grip. She wasn’t giving up, not by a long shot. She and Shelagh would discuss treatments, and she’d do everything she was told. Breast cancer was beatable. Maybe in a year or so, when she had a better handle on how things were going, she could call Nath—
No. Thoughts like that were pointless. It wasn’t only her cancer that stood between them, now. He would never forgive her for destroying his dreams. She’d never forgive herself, so how could she expect him to do so?
She had to let him go, well and truly.
Her tears mixed with the running water.