It was just a simple white gown.
“A long, satin chemise,” Aunt Emilia had called it.
Like I had any goddamn clue what the fuck that was supposed to mean.
I stared at it, hung alone in an entirely empty section of the massive walk-in closet my father had built for my mother with his own hands, even though she was never big on clothes.
“Get her the white gown. It’s her favorite. She picked it exactly for this occasion,” Aunt Em had said to me.
Like the occasion was a wedding or someone’s bar mitzvah. The detail to which my mother had gone to plan her own death made me sick to my stomach.
Frazzled, I reached for the hanger. My fingers were shaky. Withdrawal was a bitch even though they’d kept me in the hospital a few days and given me a ton of shit to help wean me off all the crap in my system.
I’d had every single goddamn symptom in the book—shaky hands, fever, sleepless nights, and blood pressure so low, it’d make a thrice-dead corpse proud. I was still taking medication that was supposed to help, and Dad had slapped me with a twice-a-week therapist for coping, maintenance, and all the other bullshit.
I’d hated every single part of my existence during those days in the hospital—especially because it kept me away from Mom. But I also finally knew I had no choice. There were so many things on the line. My family. Luna. My friends. Oh, also, my fucking existence.
So, I hadn’t sipped a drop of alcohol in six days—this was my seventh. Pills were out of the question, too. Only reason I hadn’t had a seizure and died from the abrupt cut off was, I suspected, that I wasn’t asshole enough to steal Mom’s thunder.
After I was discharged from the hospital, Luna and Vaughn had walked into my house, emptied the alcohol shelves and medicine cabinets, and then proceeded to empty all the mouthwash bottles and throw them in the trash. They’d concluded by double-locking the wine cellar downstairs. Vaughn had installed the second lock and did a jacked-up job, too. My dad was going to kill him for chipping both the door and the frame when he was finally in a mood to pay attention to anything that wasn’t Mom.
Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t going to be anytime soon.
On the third try, I managed to snag the dress from the hanger. Instead of bringing it straight to Dad, who was to help her into it, I just clutched it between my fingers, staring.
I needed a few more moments in this room, knowing what was about to happen next was going to put everything in motion and change my life forever.
My mother was downstairs, getting ready for her bath. She was back home. She was awake. After a week of back and forth, Dad had made the decision to take her out of her chemically induced coma so she could say goodbye. He’d made it clear—after fighting with the entire hospital staff and having Vicious, Trent, and Jaime walking the corridor with a harem of lawyers—that my mother was going to go peacefully, as she wished.
At home.
In her favorite white gown.
Surrounded by her loved ones.
And only after saying goodbye to each of us, personally.
I knew why Dad had given me the task of bringing the gown. He could have asked anyone. Like Emilia, who was so good at being practical and moving things around. Or Luna, who’d stepped up and was resilient, quiet, and determined to help. He could have asked Edie, or Melody, or any of his friends. But he’d asked me.
He wanted me to be a part of this.
The second man of the house.
I brought the gown to my nose, closed my eyes, and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Mom—freshly baked goods, vanilla, citrus shampoo, and her sweet, natural scent.
Shuddering, I stepped back, opened the door, and stepped out of the walk-in closet, fingering the wood of the doorframe. I paused when I felt the uneven surface under my fingertips and looked sideways, frowning.
Carved on the dark wood, sloppily, like it was done with car keys, were the words that had kept me from drinking myself to death for the past six days. The words I couldn’t bear not hearing Luna say again.
Ride or die.
Rosie
I’d once asked my sister, Emilia, what it felt like.
To be normal. To be healthy. To be genetically privileged.
She’d said, “Days tick by, as you expect them to. Like fanning pages in a calendar. You make plans. Sometimes you forget them. Sometimes you keep them. Sometimes cancel them. But you never doubt you can make them. You let things—mundane things, like bad traffic or getting caught in the pouring rain or rude, inconsiderate people—ruin your day, not realizing how precious said day is. How unique. How this day will never come again. No day will look quite like it. And that’s how you look back, years after, wondering where all the time went.”
When she saw what was on my face, though, she’d added quickly, “But I learned a long time ago that maybe a reminder of the fact that we aren’t here forever is exactly what we need to make the most out of life. And I learned that because of you.”
This was why I’d decided to adopt my beautiful son.
To bring my younger son into the world.
To get married. To start a family. To love hard. Fiercely. With abandon.
This is why I never denied myself anything I wanted. Not only was life too short, but I wanted my beautiful family to remember that, too.
Plenty of times I’d wondered if I was selfish to have a family.
But was breaking Dean’s heart and walking away from him the selfless thing to do? I didn’t think so. I knew in my heart that Dean would be miserable as long as I was alive and away from him. Just like he had been until we got together.
Was not adopting Knight going to help him? What if he’d ended up handed over from family to family in the foster care system? What if he’d been given to a family that didn’t give him all he deserved? I knew I would be the best mother for him. And what if Dixie had been forced to keep him somehow, when she wasn’t equipped, nor in the right emotional place to care for her child?
As for Levy, he was a pleasant surprise. I hadn’t been expecting him, didn’t think I could ever get pregnant. But once I’d found out I was, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. He was the most precious gift, and loved beyond words and actions.
I’ve lived a full life.
A beautiful life.
I wouldn’t take anything back. If I could do one more thing before I left this earth, it would be to give—give my loved ones a piece of advice, my love, and my approval.
Now I was living the picture as I’d imagined it in my mind, every day since I was a little girl and found out I wouldn’t live to ripe old age, that I would probably never see myself with completely gray hair, deep-set wrinkles, and surrounded by beautiful grandchildren. The gown was beautiful, comfortable, and angelic. I lay on top of my bed, dizzy, but smiling nonetheless, as I hugged my sister Emilia.
She stood up from my bed, wiping her eyes. “Who do you want to see first?”
“Levy.”
When my young son entered my room, the first thing I noticed was how not completely young he was anymore. Of course, I’d seen him every day, save for the week I’d been in a coma. But he seemed to have gotten tall almost overnight. He was lanky now, his jaw squarer, his eyes less wide and exploring, more suspicious and slanted. He was going to be a gorgeous man one day, and I absolutely refused to be upset over the fact that I wasn’t going to know what he would look like. Or over the nagging, eternal question of whether he was going to be with Bailey or not. I couldn’t allow my thoughts to roam this way. I had to keep them on what was important. I patted the space next to me with a smile.
“H-how are you feeling, Mom?” He glanced at me from under his lashes.
He had great lashes. Like mine. I smiled at the fact I was going to stay on this earth forever. Through him. Through Knight. Through my husband.
“Good. You?”
“Yeah. Good.”
“Liar.”
He looked down, shooting a small smile.
“Break for me, Levy. I want to hug away your pain.”
That’s what we did for the next half hour. I just held him while he sobbed. I asked him to understand that even after I was gone, I still loved him, fiercely. Begged him not to feel the betrayal that can accompany the loss of a parent, to know that no part of me wanted to leave him and his brother and father behind. That I’d lived, breathed, and thrived because they were with me. That I’d fought for every day, until I couldn’t anymore, because they were worth the struggle.
When Lev ran out of tears, and I ran out of strength, I let him nap on my chest peacefully, ignoring the dull pain and how badly it hurt when I was hooked up to so many machines, my lungs collapsing by the nanosecond.
When he stirred some time later, looked up and saw that I’d been watching him the whole time, he smiled. It was as though he needed this reassurance that I truly loved him. That I genuinely cared.
“Who do you want to see next?”
“Your brother, please.” I smiled.
Lev nodded.
When Knight entered the room and closed the door behind him, I motioned to him with my finger.
“Your breath. Let me smell it.”
“Mom.” He rolled his eyes.
He was so tall. So gorgeous. Such a heartbreaker. Yet his heart was so loyal. The rest of him, too. I was in awe of how good he was. How pure. The only thing I worried about was how he dealt with pain. I didn’t want him to run to alcohol and drugs. I saw what it had done to Dean when we were younger. Knight’s soul was much too precious, his heart too tender to deal with heartbreak. Just like his dad.
“Come on. You know as well as I do you will never deprive your dying mother of anything.”
With a harsh exhale, he walked over to me, put his mouth to my nose. He smelled of mint gum, and underneath it, iced coffee. I immediately knew he was sober.
“Thank you.” I grinned.
Instead of pulling away, he put his lips to the tip of my nose, awarding me a kiss.
“How are you, Mom?”
“Better than I look.”
“You look perfect.”
“You’re just being nice.”
He pulled back, giving me a really? look. “Being nice is not even in my dictionary.”
“Probably because you used the page to roll yourself a joint. How’s your girlfriend?” I tried to elbow him good-naturedly in the ribs as he sat down beside me.
By the dark cloud passing over his expression, I could see something was going on.
“She dumped me.”
“She did?” I asked cheerfully, not missing a beat.
Luna, Luna. Thank you, Luna.
He nodded, giving me a quizzical look before shaking his head. “It’s stupid. This is not what we should be talking about right now.”
“What should we be talking about right now?” I arched a playful eyebrow. I didn’t want this to be heavy and sad.
He looked out the window, shaking his head. “I don’t know. About you?”
“We know everything there is to know about me. I’m the least interesting subject in this household, and the most depressing one, too.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” He scratched at his jaw, the fine whiskers growing over it light brown dustings.
“First of all, this is not without hard work, trust me.” I winked. “And second of all, I have faith in my plans for the three of you. I just need you to promise me one little thing.”
“Okay.” He sat up straight, eyeing me curiously.
I put my hand on his. “You stopped drinking.”
“I did.”
“You stopped with the pills, too.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re going to the counselor Dad found for you?”
“Like clockwork,” he gritted out.
“She will never be yours if you go back to the way it was.”
“I know.” His voice broke. “I know that, Mom. I know.”
“Promise me, then.”
“I promise. No more binging. No more benders. No more alcohol and pills. I won’t even take a Tylenol next time I’m sick.”
Silence. I had to tread carefully around this one. I didn’t want him suspecting anything, didn’t want this part of the conversation to tarnish everything else we’d said. I knew he’d forgive me in time, down the line. But not now. And I couldn’t burden him with more anger and disappointment for a second as long as I had my breath in me.
“Can I give you one other piece of advice?”
“Of course, Mom.”
“The grudges you hold against people? Drop them. They’re not worth your anger. They keep you anchored to a place you shouldn’t be.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“No, I can’t. But I can tell you one last thing.”
“Okay.”
I took his hand. Put the back of it against my lips. Smiled through my tears. “Parents are not supposed to have favorites,” I started.
I knew my confession wasn’t going to leave the walls of this room. Knight loved Lev with everything he had in him. He was a wonderful brother who’d volunteered to teach Levy’s entire football team. He’d covered for Lev dozens of times when he’d sneaked into Bailey’s house, and vice versa.
“But I do, Knight. I have a favorite. I love you so brutally, sometimes I’d lay awake at night wondering if you were the thing that kept me going when I couldn’t do it anymore. When the pain was too much. I don’t want you to ever feel you were less.”
“I never felt that way.” He smiled calmly, cupping my cheeks and staring deep into my eyes. “I never felt like I didn’t belong. Not even for a hot second. I always knew you were my home. I’m just worried about what being homeless will do to me.”
“You will never be homeless, my darling boy. You will always have a home. I will be with you, even after I draw my last breath. Remember, my love. The sun will rise tomorrow. It always does. And don’t you dare live one day of your life without basking in its glory. If you truly love me, you will respect my legacy. You will wake up tomorrow morning. You will grieve the loss of me. But, with time, you will smile. You will laugh. You will live. You will push through and conquer your desires. You’ll get your girl back, because she loves you, and you love her, and I’ve seen you from childhood—you were born for each other. You will give me beautiful grandchildren, whom I will watch over from heaven. And every summer rain, you will know it’s me, saying I love you.”
“Mom. Mom. Mom.” He buried his head in my chest, wrapping his huge arms around me. “I’m not ready to let go.”
“Go and save your princess, my love.” I kissed his forehead. “She is waiting. Besides, that’s what knights do.”
It was when my husband entered our room that I finally broke down.
I was exhausted from being strong. Strong for Emilia. For Lev. For Knight. I knew Dean was in a state no less upset than they were, but with one distinguished difference: he had always been my protector. He’d always had my back. It was inspiring to watch as he’d fought with doctors, sought out specialists from all over the world, and turned every rock, checked every corner, until we’d exhausted our options on how to fight my disease.
Now, I 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.”
