“Aundrea’s young and look at you two; married and shit, with a baby on the way.”

“Like you said, Jean’s different.”

We finish the game. I don’t win, but I come in second, which is still a chunk of change.

“All right, guys. It’s been fun, but I’m out of here.”

“Me too,” Brandon adds, standing up.

“You going to go poke Aundrea’s taco? Get it? Taco poker night? Poke her taco?” Kevin laughs at his own joke and I can only manage to shake my head and shrug apologetically at Brandon, who waves it off, laughing.

Jason smacks the back of Kevin’s head, and Rob and Tony laugh with him.

Brandon and I don’t wait to say goodbye. We walk out to our cars together, in silence.

I’m not sure what to say. We haven’t spoken since the funeral. Aundrea called him a couple times, inviting him and Ethan over but he’s yet to come by.

“It’s been fun,” Brandon says.

“Yeah, it was. Listen, if you’re free and want to come by again, we’d like that.”

“I would too. I don’t get out much, lately.”

“How are you doing?”

Leaning against his car, he scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s been hard.”

“You and Ethan are welcome over any time.”

“I know that, thanks. We’re just trying to figure things out … the two of us. Ethan’s taken it a lot harder than I thought he would. I guess I really didn’t know how he would take it. He cries every night for her.” His words sound strangled. “I can get through my pain, but I didn’t think how difficult it would be to take away his.”

I don’t know what to say to that. How do you take away the pain of a child who lost their mother? Will time make it better?

“I gave him a picture of her. He said it’s not the same. I know where he’s coming from, but I can only hope it helps.”

“It does. Even if he doesn’t say it, it does.”

He nods.

“How are you doing?” He hasn’t really mentioned if he’s okay. He looks it, but I want to make sure he is.

“Each day gets better. They say time heals all wounds. I believe that. I miss her smell the most. I didn’t think about how much I would miss that until she was gone.” He sighs heavily, looking over my shoulder. “I better get going.”

He closes his eyes, not looking at my nod of understanding.

“See you.”

He gets into his car and says through the window, “Talk to you soon, Parker.”

I drive home at the slowest speed I have ever driven.

Aundrea’s already asleep, her hair slightly damp from a shower.

I crawl into the warm sheets and pull her against me, taking in her scent. I hope to never forget this smell. Pears and honey. My favorite smell in the entire world.

Breathing her in, I drift off to sleep.

“Breathe!” I scream, looking down at her face. She jerks with each movement.

19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26

Come on, Aundrea! Breathe!”

I jolt awake. I’m covered in cold sweat and tears are streaming down my face, but when I roll over Aundrea is still sleeping peacefully.

I rub my hand over my face, as if I could scrub the visions away. I need them to be gone. I can’t stand the thought of Aundrea’s lifeless body. My hands tremble as the memories wash over me again.

I grunt in annoyance and frustration as I focus on the woman sleeping before me. I listen to her breathe and pull her back against my chest, so I can feel her warmth against me. I need her warmth.

Fuck, why are they starting again? It’s been a while since I’ve had that dream. They started when I learned of Aundrea’s heart condition, but stopped after a few months.

Nothing comes into mind except …

Fuck.

My conversation with Brandon.

This damned dream has brought out the one thing I try to keep hidden. It’s the only thing in my life I’m not proud of. Even though Aundrea’s cancer free, it terrifies me that her cardiomyopathy could take her at any moment. No matter how many appointments I go to, test results I see, or pills I watch her take every morning, it’s a thought I just can’t shake. I’d do anything for this woman. Anything. But there’s nothing I can do about her condition.

I close my eyes, trying my best to leave the nightmare behind. But it’s difficult to leave something so haunting … so terrifying, behind you.

I hate that in the dream I can’t protect her. I can’t save her.

Even though I vowed that I would.

I hate that dream.

“Parker?” Aundrea’s voice is like sunshine breaking through the dark cloud of thoughts.

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. You’re soaking wet. Come here. You’re okay, shh,” she whispers, running her fingers through my hair. I like when she comforts me; I just hate that I need it.

Throwing the drenched sheets off me, I pull Aundrea onto my chest, so she’s lying flat against me. I can’t get her close enough.

“Stop,” she whispers in my ear.

I take in the alluring scent of fresh shampoo from our shower last night mixed with a hint of coconut from her lotion.

“Stop what?” I ask, drawing circles on her smooth bare back.

“Thinking about it.”

I close my eyes tightly, forcing myself to stay here, in this moment.

She lays her head on my shoulder and wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me. Softly, she says, “What do I need to do, or say, to make you understand that I’m not going to leave you?”