Anya had fully drifted off, and I decided to let her stay where she was while I talked to whichever Ward sister was waiting for me.
She was walking up the driveway as I got out of the truck.
“Aiden?” She gave me a small wave, her features so similar to Isabel’s that it was almost hard to look at her. “I’m Molly, Isabel’s sister.”
“What can I do for you?” I was too tired for pleasantries, too exhausted by cycling through this situation in my head to even attempt to manage them.
She held out a large envelope, edged in gold, and heavy in my hand when I took it from her. “I’d like to invite you to my wedding this weekend.”
My head snapped up. “Why?”
Molly smiled. “Because my sister will never do it.”
Immediately, I was shaking my head. “Trust me, she doesn’t want me there.”
“If she knew I was here,” Molly said carefully, “she would be mad at me.”
I extended the envelope back toward her. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be.”
Inexplicably, that made her smile widen. “I know you don’t know Isabel as well as I do, but from the little bit I’ve heard, you’ve gotten really good glimpses of who she is.” Molly tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, the massive diamond on her finger winking in the sun. “She’ll never ask you to come to this wedding, even if she wants you there, because she is as stubborn as anyone I’ve ever met.”
I exhaled a humorless laugh. “I feel like we’re talking in circles.”
“I know.” She licked her lips before speaking again. “I don’t know where your relationship stands with her,” Molly continued. “Because even though she can dish out advice to us like it’s her job, she rarely tells us anything she’s going through. And I think it’s because she’s doing what she did when she was young, when Paige showed up. She’ll give these tiny windows of opportunity, and if you don’t take them, you won’t get another chance. My sister is one of the strongest, most incredible people I know, but she will shut down anyone if she’s afraid they’ll hurt her.”
I swiped a hand over my mouth, regarding Molly with unfiltered curiosity. “Why are you telling me all of this? You don’t even know me.”
Her smile was mysterious. “Because I know my sister. And if she’s refusing to talk about you, then you’ve wedged a foot in the door, and that means you’re important to her.” She stepped closer. “What I’m giving you, Aiden, is a chance.”
I glanced up at the sky and took a deep breath.
“But,” she said carefully, “only take that chance if you can see her in your future. I’d never make that kind of dramatic statement for anyone other than her.” She laid a hand on my arm. “I know you lost your wife, and that puts a lot of extra pressure on whatever relationship you have next. But if you think it could be her, then don’t miss your chance.”
If Molly Ward made me start crying in my own driveway, I’d never forgive her.
“I’ve … I’ve done all of this already, and I wasn’t looking to do it again,” I said quietly. “The big wedding and I have a child, and I don’t know if it’s even fair to ask her to walk into all of that, knowing the firsts that she should be experiencing with the person who loves her.”
It was an oversimplification of the mental hurdles facing me, but enough that Molly gave me an encouraging smile.
“There is one thing I can tell you with a hundred percent certainty, Aiden.” She held my eyes. “My sister could not care less about which firsts you experience together. What she wants is forever.”
All I could manage was a short nod. “I hear you.”
“Good.” She studied me. “I hope I see you there. But if I don’t, then you never deserved her to begin with.”
Even though her parting shot was a gut-punch, Molly gave me a small smile and walked down my driveway like a queen.
With my head spinning, I transferred a sleeping Anya from my truck and into her bed. I walked back downstairs in a daze and sank onto the couch. Down the hallway, the door to my bedroom was open, and if I closed my eyes, it was so easy to imagine Isabel as she’d lain in my bed. Once more, I was struck with the complete pendulum of our interactions.
There was no lukewarm.
No shades of gray to dissect.
I stared at the wedding invitation, and imagined showing up for her there. I imagined staying home, knowing I’d think of her all evening.
Because I couldn’t not, I imagined what Beth would say. What she’d tell me to do.
Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled out my phone and dialed my parents’ number.
My mom picked up on the first ring.
“Miss me already?” she asked, smile evident in her voice.
“I lied. Earlier.” I punched the button to put her on speaker and set my phone down, idly scrolling until I found a picture of Beth on my phone. From before she was sick, before her cheeks hollowed out and the skin shrank over her bones.
Her response took a few seconds in coming, “Okay. What about?”
“When I told you not to worry.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t … I don’t know what to do, Mom. And normally, I can imagine what Beth would tell me, what advice she’d give me, and I can’t with this.”
My wife’s face smiled out at me from the phone, but for the first time in two years, I couldn’t hear her voice in my head. My hands started tingling, my neck tight and chest as heavy as if an elephant sat squarely over my heart.
“Talk to me, son,” she said gently.
There was no part of me that wanted to recap
