“I’m being unfair,” he said. “You’re right. I didn’t want to talk about it. I avoid thinking about it at all costs.”

“What was your wife’s name?” she asked softly, watching his face. “I’ve never heard you say it.”

“Faith. Faith Alexandra Wells.” He stared at her hands on his.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

He swayed slightly in his seat, and she wondered if she should just put him in bed.

“We tried for years to get pregnant,” he said. “It finally happened, but they found the cancer early during her pregnancy. They suggested we abort the baby so they could treat it more aggressively.”

“Oh, Zander.” She hadn’t thought her heart could break any more. “How horrible for the two of you.”

“I told her to do it.” He looked at Ava, his eyes hard. “She refused.”

“No one should ever have to make that decision.”

“You’ve got that fucking right.” He looked back at the kitchen and his glass on the counter. “I need my drink.”

“In a minute,” said Ava. “What happened?”

“She refused to have an abortion and she died.”

“She would have survived if she’d given up the baby?”

He seemed to shrink. “Probably not. Her cancer had invaded several organs by the time they found it. Stage four. They said treatment might extend her life a little longer.”

“And that wasn’t good enough for her,” Ava said, understanding the horrible decision his wife had made. “She was going to die no matter what.”

“We could have had more time,” Zander said urgently. “Maybe a new treatment could have been found in those extra months, maybe we could have gone somewhere else, where the drugs didn’t have to go through the trials and approvals.” His words slurred, and his chin dropped to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Zander.” She’d never seen him so defeated. He’d always been the quiet rock. Dependable. Steadfast. Driven. When she needed something, she never hesitated to ask. He always came through for her.

“She never knew it was a girl,” he whispered.

“Oh, she knows, Zander. She knows.”

“We’d agreed on the name Zachery for a boy and Fiona for a girl. I think about my daughter every day. Would she have looked like Faith?” His eyes begged for her to agree.

“No doubt.”

“I have to pull out Faith’s pictures to remember what she looked like when she was healthy. Those last few weeks at the hospital, she didn’t look like herself, and those images are burned into my brain. She was swollen everywhere, a horrible caricature of the beautiful woman she’d been.” He covered his eyes. “My memory of her is fading. Sometimes when I’m at work, I’ll try to remember the exact color of her hair and I can’t. I hate myself for it . . . I’m forgetting her and she doesn’t deserve that. Yesterday I couldn’t remember what the color of her eyes looked like.”

“How long has it been?”

“Eight years.”

“I would expect the memories to have faded a bit, Zander. But as long as you have her photos, you don’t have to rely on your memory.”

“But I remember everything! Why can’t I recall the woman she was instead of that horrible sick body she was at the end?”

Ava fumbled for an answer. “I don’t know.” Guilt swept through her. “I’m sorry I kept pressuring you to accept dates, Zander. I didn’t know you weren’t ready.”

He waved an unsteady hand in the air. “I’ve dated.”

“Oh.” Ava frowned. “You seemed so reluctant. I always assumed it was because of Faith.”

“I know she didn’t want me to be alone. She told me that. She knew she was going to die, Ava. She made me promise to look for someone who made me feel alive.” He looked away sheepishly. “I’ve turned down all your suggestions because . . . well . . . because they came from you,” he finished quietly.

She pulled back, stung. “You don’t think I’m a good judge of character? I wouldn’t set you up—”

“It’s not that,” he stated, meeting her gaze. “It’s because I wanted it to be you.”

She froze, feeling her heart pound in her chest. A tiny part of her had known, but for him to state it out in the open when it was clearly too late . . .

He gripped her hands. “Don’t run away.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can feel you pulling back. I just fucked everything up, didn’t I?”

“No. Nothing has changed.”

“You’re lying to me.”

Blood pulsated in her ears. “I’m not. I knew . . . sorta, I think. I think I chose to ignore it. Even Mason knew . . . he was okay with it.”

“What?”

“Mason likes you. He knew you wouldn’t make a move on me because you’d respect his friendship.”

Zander looked away. “He’s right.”

“You’re still my friend, Zander . . . oh, my God. Was it the talk of the wedding venue the other day that was bugging you?” He still had a firm hold on her hands. She tugged, but he didn’t let go.

“Yes,” he said simply. “It’s getting closer. Before there was always a chance that the two of you wouldn’t last. But now I can see you’re meant for him. Not for me.”