He found out he has pancreatic cancer last week.”
Up came her head, her eyes finding his. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Tucker. I had no idea. Does he have a good prognosis?”
“Unfortunately no, although all of us have seen hopeless cases turn around completely.”
“And sometimes they don’t.” She forced her fingers to release their death grip on her purse, afraid he’d read some kind of telling emotion into the act.
Ha! As if there wasn’t.
“You’re right. Sometimes they don’t.” He studied her for a few seconds before continuing, “Our divorce was the toughest thing you’ve ever handled?”
“It was an icebreaker. It was supposed to be funny.” Especially since they both knew the correct and not-funny-at-all answer would have been Grace’s death. “None of them know we were ever married, much less divorced.”
“And yet we’ve been both.” His mouth tightened slightly. “Maiden name?”
“Easier, don’t you think?” If he could do short, concise questions, so could she. Especially as her heart was beginning to set up a slow thudding in her chest that spelled danger. She needed to get out of there.
“Easier? Possibly.”
Possibly? That drew her up short. How did that even make sense? Of course it was easier.
“I think it is. People won’t automatically see the last names and wonder if we’re brother and sister. Or something else.”
One side of that mouth quirked again. “Oh, it was definitely something else.”
The thudding became a triplet of beats. Then another. How was it that he could still turn her knees to jelly with the single turn of phrase?
“Tucker...” She allowed a warning note to enter her voice.
He leaned back in his chair. “So how are you?”
“Fine.”
Sure she was. Right now, she was anything but fine. Why had she let herself be talked into this stupid trip?
He leaned forward. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase. Are you staying for the entire conference?”
“Yes. You?” It was a stupid question, since he lived here, but her brain was currently operating in a fog.
“Hmm...”
She would take that as a yes.
“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.
A weird squeaking sound came from her throat that she disguised as a laugh. “I take it that wasn’t an invitation.”
He smiled the first real smile she’d seen since she’d been there. “I take it you wouldn’t accept, if it was.”
“That probably wouldn’t be wise.” Not that they hadn’t done some very unwise things over the course of their relationship. “The hospital booked me a room at the hotel across the street. It’s convenient. And close to both the hospital and the conference center.”
“Convenient. That’s one word for it.”
Was he saying that her being here was making it awkward for him? Of course it was. Just like being around him was uncomfortable for her. In more ways than one.
She took a deep breath and asked a real question. “How are you, Tucker...really?”
“I’m busy.” His smile faded, the words taking on an edge that made her tilt her head. And it didn’t answer her question.
“You always were in high demand.”
“With some people. Not so much with others.”
Was he talking about their marriage? Because she hadn’t been the one to withdraw. He had. She’d loved this man. Deeply. Passionately. It was why it had devastated her when he’d shut down completely during Grace’s illness—pulling away from everyone except for his patients.
She’d been his wife! Grace’s slow downward spiral had been just as painful for her. The worst thing was, she’d felt frighteningly alone during those first few months after her death, while Tucker had slept in the guest bedroom and spent longer and longer hours working at the hospital. Desperate to reconnect with him on whatever level she could, she’d casually said maybe they should try to have another baby. If she’d thought that would lure him back into their bedroom, she couldn’t have been more wrong. He’d looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses, his next words chilling her to the bone.
I’ll never have another child.
When she’d started to say something more, he’d cut her off with a shake of his head and walked out of the room. Any time she’d brought up the subject after that, begging him to talk to her, she’d been met with the same stony response. Rather...no response. And his hours at the office had increased so that he’d barely been home at all.
Then had come the final blow. On the first anniversary of Grace’s death, he’d announced he’d decided to get a vasectomy, as if it was something people did every day. He’d probably hoped that would end all talk of having more children. It had.
His unilateral decision had floored her. And infuriated her.
The powerlessness she’d felt had been crushing. All-encompassing.
That had been the beginning of the end. Actually, it had been more like a rapid slide to home base, only to find out that the ball had arrived long before you had.
Three strikes and they were out. Bags packed. Papers filed. Divorce decree signed.
Being bitter solved nothing, though. So she stuffed all that back inside.
She went back to his cryptic comment about being in demand. “I’m sure your patients appreciate all you do.”
A softness came back into his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be the big bad wolf back then, Kady.”
“I can see that...now.”
Back then, though, things hadn’t been so clear, and he’d seemed like the villain in their particular tale.
To her, anyway. Even now the memory of those days pinched at her heart like a pair of surgical clamps, causing a strange numbness to come over her.
But not so numb that it staunched the weird waterworks sensation that was inching its way back onto her radar. God, she wished things could have been different between them. They hadn’t been, though. So she needed to stop looking at him with glasses that magnified those old hurts. “That’s all in the past, where I think it should probably stay.”
He stood. “You’re right. It is. I just wanted to stop by and say hello.”
“I’m glad you did. It was really good to see you again.”
Good
