Chapter 11

I stare at Ameline,stunned and speechless. Her version of our story makes me look like some fucking asshole who truly didn't give two fucks about his grieving wife or his dead child. That couldn't be further from the truth.

During those days, I was literally in the fertility clinic, discussing with the medical personnel the future of our babies. I had promised myself that Ame would never endure the pain of losing a child ever again.

In my mind, I was honoring our daughter while ensuring Ameline would be spared that agony. My singular goal was protecting her.

Part of why I became an oncologist is because of them. I try my best to prevent what happened to Ameline, her mother, or our baby girl. No matter how much my family begs me to quit this soul-crushing profession, I can't let it go. So what if what I'm doing is also paying some penance?

The guilt of not realizing she was pregnant during the TMZ treatment or . . . There are multiple reasons including not being able to convince Ameline that she's the love of my life.

I'm haunted by maybes and what-ifs from the worst period of our lives.

Lyric shoots me a judging, disappointed glare but there's pity in her eyes too. Her emotionally-shattered brother fucked his entire life while trying to fix it.

Though, now it makes sense as to why Ameline left me. I withdrew from her, and she believed my well-intentioned, nosy mother.

Ame believed that I never loved her.

But I did, I was just blinded by grief and even guilt. I avoided my emotions by working hard to solve our future, and yet, I truly fucked it up.

But the truth? I've loved her fiercely from the start, and that's never stopped, not even for a second. Sure, Leslie was my first love, but Ameline? She's the love of my life. That's why I could never make myself sign those divorce papers every time she sent them.

Saying any of it now would be meaningless, though. She needs me to prove it through actions.

I love her, deeply, wholeheartedly, and I'm not ready to give up on us, not without giving it everything I've got. Yeah, I've been keeping my distance, respecting that imaginary restraining order she put in place, but now that she's back in my life . . . Well, they say all's fair in love and war, right?

Suddenly, Ameline's phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts. She fumbles for it, answering with a quick, "Hello?" but her expression shifts to worry almost instantly. When she hangs up, that look of concern doesn't leave her face.

"Everything okay?" I ask with concern.

"Nope. I received a call from Isadora's neighbor. According to her, she's been trying to reach me for hours. Izzy went to the hospital, and she needs someone to pick up her children before they call the police and child protective services."

"Do you have her address?" I question urgently.

Ameline glances down at her phone, biting her lip in that way she does when she's nervous. "Yeah, I just got a text with the address."

"Okay, then let's go get them," I say firmly, already formulating a plan in my head to track down Izzy. I know people who can handle that while we focus on the kids.

But Ameline's still chewing on her lip, her brows knitted in worry. She's clearly wrestling with something more, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head.

"What else is going on?"

"I just . . . What do I do with Izzy's kids? Do I call Richard? Not like he'd answer," she says, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and panic. "But maybe he'd be better equipped to handle this."

I reach out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Ame, just take a deep breath, okay?"

I wait as she inhales shakily, trying to collect herself.

"Breathing doesn't change anything," she argues. "Why are they even calling me? Izzy made it clear I'm nobody to her."

"That's beside the point. There are . . ." I pause, arching a brow. "How many kids did you say there are?"

"Two. The boy's just a few weeks old . . ." she mutters absently, attention still fixed on her phone screen.

I nod decisively. "We get the kids secured first."

Panic flares in her eyes. "But, Gabe, I can't care for them. I only came to talk to Izzy, then leave for good."

"Well, there's been a change of plans," I state gently but firmly.

"Though I'd love to help, I'm afraid that I'll be busy—and so will the rest of the Decker women," Lyric, who has been impressively quiet, speaks.

Ameline's jaw sets stubbornly. "Doesn't matter, I'm still leaving. For good this time."

"After listening to your story, I really hope that this isn't the end. You both deserve a second chance. Though, you should make sure that my broody brother grovels," Lyric says with a slight smirk.

Before I can tell my sister to take a hike, she goes upstairs, leaving us alone.

"Ame, let me at least take you to check on the kids," I offer.

She bobs her head in agreement.

"Okay, I'm texting Seth. He can provide us with car seats if we need them." I point at her backpack. "Bring only your purse. I doubt you'll be leaving today."

"This is unreal," she murmurs more to herself than to me.

"Sorry," it's all I can say, because I can't promise much until I learn what's really happening with Izzy and her children.

I almost remind her that this time is different. We're older. Back then it was . . . messier and more painful because I didn't have the maturity to handle it myself or to acknowledge that I needed my family's support. But then, I think maybe it's best if she heads back to New York. I could handle Izzy's situation, sparing her the pain.

Honestly, I don't want her to go through that kind of heartache again.

* * *

My cousin Sethuses his resources to research Isadora's information. We're halfway to pick up the children when he calls.

"Hello," I say, pressing the answer button on the steering wheel, my gaze steady on the road.

"Hey, Doc, I'm puzzled about your request. Would you like to share why we're doing this?" he asks. "Is this another patient who lost insurance coverage, and you plan to sponsor them?"

"Izzy is my sister-in-law," I clarify. "She summoned Ameline. It seems like she needs help with her children. What do you have for us?"

"Oh. Ameline? Your ‘estranged' wife is back, interesting. You think this time we'll get to meet her before you fuck things up again?" The asshole chuckles.

"Fuck you." I grip the steering wheel tighter, irritation rising. "Just tell me what you found."

Seth finds out she's divorced and has a four-year-old daughter with her ex. Isadora moved back to Seattle almost two years ago. She has a three-week-old boy. The father's name isn't disclosed on the birth certificate.

"If necessary, we can track down the girl's father. The boy will be very difficult, but not impossible," he states matter-of-factly. "I'll meet you at the apartment building where she lives with the car seats."

"Thank you for your help." I end the call.

"He knows about me?" Ameline asks with a confused, yet angry tone.

"Of course, they may not have known that you're my wife but they knew you were a very important part of my life," I reply.

"You're delusional," she laughs, but it's a hollow sound. "We haven't seen each other in years."

"I never claimed sanity was my strong suit," I admit, offering a brief smile before refocusing on the road. "Losing my wife and daughter . . . it fucked me up pretty bad."

"I had to leave," she says softly, almost apologetically.

"I understand. Even more so after I heard what Pria told you," I add, my voice growing a bit colder as I mention my mother.

Love Mom, but what in the ever-loving fuck did she do? Like seriously, she didn't have to stick her nose into my business. We're going to have a long conversation after I help Ameline deal with Izzy.

"You mean your mom."

"I'm currently pissed at her," I say, adjusting the rearview mirror slightly. "Though, if I hadn't been absent and just shoved you into my parents' care while I tried to fix our future. . ."

She hesitates before asking, "Why did you . . .?"

"What?"

"Why did you withdraw from me?" she whispers. "After the surgery, after we lost her . . . I needed you." Her voice cracks.

I take a deep breath, the car slowing as we approach a red light. "Fear, denial . . . I was lost in them. I didn't know how to grieve, how to be there for you. I wanted to fix everything, stop your suffering . . ." My voice trails off as the light turns green, and I accelerate.

We're quiet for the rest of the drive. Once I park in front of the apartment building, I finally turn to face Ameline. "In part, it had to do with Leslie. It was hard to deal with her loss—it hurt a lot. When I thought you . . . The moment you coded, I couldn't breathe. I wanted to die with you. It scared me how much you meant to me, how much I loved you, and I didn't know how to handle any of it. I was a stupid twenty-three-year-old boy who wasn't ready for our love or you. I was just trying to ensure that you would be healthy and wouldn't lose another baby."

She stares at me for a long moment. The silence between us is deafening. "You're not supposed to say that," she claims, her voice tight, almost angry or maybe sad. The fact that I can't define the emotions makes me anxious. "I liked it better when you didn't love me. When I had been the only one who loved and lost everything."

I offer a small shrug, meeting her pained eyes. "I meant everything I said then and everything I said earlier with Lyric. I've always loved you."

Her nostrils flare and without a word, she abruptly exits the car, leaving a void where she sat.

"Talk to me, Ame," I plead, scrambling out of the car to follow her toward the main entrance of the building.

"No," she replies sharply, arms crossed in front of herself. "You don't get to decide when we talk. I need time to process our conversation and deal with my sister's situation right now."

I nod reluctantly. "That's fair. Just let me help you with your sister, please."

"I should dismiss you altogether." Her words are clipped.

"Please don't," I implore, desperation seeping into my voice as I reach for her arm. She pointedly moves it out of reach, and I drop my hand, stung. "Let me do this for you, at least."