was the one in his arms. Lying against his chest. I sobbed into my husband’s black polo shirt, clutching its collar, letting the moans roll out of my throat. The truth was, I was frightened and confused. One moment, I had managed to be calm and reasonable—logical, even. I wasn’t going to feel anything. I was simply going to cease to exist. Just like any other human in the history of this planet. Dead, alive, or destined to live. Simple as that. Other moments, I was panicking, struggling to breathe. The whole room felt like it was closing in on me. I was trapped inside my body, wanting to leap out with my breath still in me and run from it. From cystic fibrosis.
“I’m scared,” I cried into Dean’s chest. Because I was. God, I was frightened.
He stroked my hair and kissed the crown of my head. “Don’t be scared, my love. I promise I will watch over you, even when you’re there and I’m here. I promise this is not the end. I promise to come look for you in heaven. And if I’m destined to go the other way, I assure you, I’ll find someone to bribe so we can be roommates in hell.”
I broke out in relieved laughter, shaking against his body.
He pulled away, showing me his brave, glorious smile—all straight, white teeth. Then he pulled me into a bone-crushing hug again.
“Not only will you not get rid of me, Mrs. Leblanc-Cole, but I also promise I will make sure our sons grow up to be decent men, with big families. They will be happy and healthy. Even if it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll make sure of it. I also promise to come to you every single month, twelve months a year, and show you pictures, give you letters, and keep you updated.”
“Once a year will do.” I grinned. “But if you slack, I will haunt you from there, wherever it is.”
“Once a month.” He shook his head, correcting. “We need a monthly date, to keep the flame alive and all.” He winked.
This reminded me of something I absolutely had to tell him, something I knew he didn’t want to hear, especially right now.
I put my hand on his chest. “My love?”
“Yes, Baby Leblanc?”
“Can you promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“I know I’m the love of your life. I feel very secure in this position. No one will ever take it away from me. I gave you two beautiful sons. I gave you a life worth living. I helped you overcome your addiction. No one will ever be able to replace me—”
“So don’t ask to be replaced,” my husband cut me off, a jolt of chill twinging his otherwise soft voice.
I felt his chest flexing and stiffening under my fingers.
“And yet…” I raised my voice an octave. “I forbid you to spend the rest of your life miserable and alone. I refuse to shoulder this responsibility. You’re young, gorgeous, and amazing. You will need some help with the boys. You will find someone else. Promise me that.”
“No.”
“Dean.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t promise you I’ll let anyone else in. I’m all out of heart space. It’s you and the kids. Just because you’re about to leave doesn’t mean you’ll leave here.” He pounded his fist to his chest. “You think I didn’t know this was a possibility?” He motioned between us, his voice steady. “I knew. I knew this could happen. And I still fought to be with you. I’m at peace with that, Baby Leblanc.”
“I have a plan,” I whispered, but he kissed me halfway through my sentence, brushing a lock of hair from my eye. Our faces were so close, it was easy to memorize every curve of his beautiful face. For a moment, we just breathed each other in, as we’d done the first time we met, inking one another into memory.
“Will you do me one honor?” I asked.
“Anything,” he said again, which I now knew wasn’t necessarily true.
“Would you please let me die in your arms, alone, just the two of us?”
He crawled into bed with me and settled behind me, sprawling me out against him as he wrapped his arms around me possessively. We stared at the door. Breathing. Waiting. Digesting.
He kissed my ear, trailing the kisses down my neck.
“Ride or die,” he whispered.
“Ride.” I closed my eyes, smiling. “Always ride.”
“Talk about fucking awkward.” I unbuttoned my Armani suit jacket, flapping it back to take a seat on the first pew overlooking my wife’s