Chasing Charlie

CHAPTER FORTY: THE REAL DEAL

  “Hello, Mr. Glasser,” Dr. Birmingham, a kind and older woman, said as she greeted Vince with a handshake. “I hope you don’t mind me cutting into Charlie’s appointment a little to talk with you one-on-one.”

  “Of course not. If I recall correctly, you did the same with his first appointment a few years ago.”

  Dr. Birmingham nodded and gestured toward a comfortable leather chair, which Vince took. She sat down in its twin. “I would say it’s nice to see you, but that could sound odd if taken the wrong way.”

  Vince offered an understanding look. “I understand. I’m glad you could see Charlie. He was a little too young last time he saw you for him to remember you now, but I figured it would be best if he could be with someone familiar. Better safe than sorry.”

  “I’m glad you brought him to me. So, the only information I have is that you’re terminally ill. First off, let me say that I’m terribly sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can you explain the nature of the illness to me and catch me up on what’s been happening?” the counselor asked, crossing her legs and taking off her glasses.

  Vince explained in detail his illness, his marriage to Angela, what Charlie knew, and what the plan was for Charlie after the fact.

  “How has Charlie been reacting to all of this emotionally?” Dr. Birmingham asked.

  “He’s taking it in stride, for the most part. I was diagnosed with diabetes a few weeks ago and he’s afraid of needles, so he hates seeing me take my insulin. Doesn’t matter how many times he’s walked in on me. And he doesn’t like to see me sick from my chemo, so I try not to let him. But even when he does get upset, he doesn’t lash out or throw tantrums or anything. He’s more into asking questions and looking for a little extra attention.”

  “What kind of attention?”

  “Sometimes he’ll ask for a lot of things he knows I’ll say no to, like an extra half hour past bedtime, but most times he’ll climb into one of our laps and just want to cuddle. That’s healthy, right?” Vince inquired.

  “Of course. It sounds like he’s coping well so far.”

  Vince nodded, relieved that at least something was going right. “Good. Is there anything I should or shouldn’t be doing? Should I be reminding him of what’s going to happen on some sort of constant basis, or only when it seems relevant to a question he’s asking?”

  “Well, he probably understands more than you think he does. Parents tend to underestimate the perceptiveness of their children. Like you said, he probably sees Angela as a mother figure, and that’s not because you told him, correct?” Vince nodded. “That’s because he picked up on that on his own. Angela’s a woman he knows is romantically involved with his father, and if she’s affectionate toward him, he’s going to put two and two together. That’s typical. I’ll dig more into all of this and I’ll keep you updated if I find anything interesting.”

  “That sounds perfect. Thank you very much.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. The rest of the hour is Charlie’s, if you’d like to go tell him it’s his turn.”

  —

  For Vince and Angela’s only night alone before Mitch arrived, things were not looking up. Angry with herself for sinking to Marshall’s level and maybe even lower, Angela was on edge when she arrived at her second home after picking up her mail at the first; and ever since Charlie’s session, all that had been on Vince’s mind was how confused and shaken Charlie would feel after he lost his father, and how real this was all becoming as a result.

  When Angela halfheartedly asked Vince again where he wanted to go for dinner, he almost didn’t hear her over his own inner dialogue. “I don’t know. Not picky,” he answered, plopping down next to her on the couch.

  “Me neither. Not helpful. I talked to Hanson, by the way,” Angela said blankly while she tore open an envelope. “She was really supportive. She didn’t, you know, hug me or anything, but she was…as nice as she could’ve been, I suppose.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Anyway, how was Charlie’s appointment?”

  “Honestly, it got me feeling a bit anxious. I can’t stop thinking about him and what must be going on in his head right now, and what it’ll be like for him when I’m gone.” It had been a while since Vince had lost his composure completely, and he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done so in the privacy of an empty apartment before Angela had gotten home. He regretted his earlier restraint because now he didn’t have a choice but to fall apart right in front of Angela, who’d already had her share of drama for the day. He supposed, though, that having her there might keep him grounded a little more or at least shorten the duration of his lapse of sanity.

  Sensing with ease that some much-needed catharsis was about to take place, Angela wrapped her arms around her husband and pulled him as close to her as she could. “I’m listening.”

  “This is really happening,” Vince said with an already quavering voice. “Some days I think I honestly forget at least a little.”

  “That’s a blessing,” Angela reassured him.

  Vince shook his head. “No, it’s not. Because when I forget, I get careless and I don’t think about consequences enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Honestly?” Vince swallowed back his tears for now. “Getting married. I don’t regret it, per se, but at the same time, you’re locked into this when there’s no benefit to you, and I hate that.”

  “Okay, I overreacted big time with Marshall today, and I’ve felt terrible about it ever since, but I have to admit, I’m angry all over again and I’m ready to cause him physical pain now. What on earth do you mean when you say there’s no benefit to me or that I’m locked in? I didn’t marry you to stake a claim on Charlie, if that’s what you’re thinking about. I married you because I love you. It’s as simple as that. Anything else just…is what it is.”

  “Yeah…”

  Vince sounded stuffy, so Angela reached to the end table next to her to get him a tissue. It was then that she saw the wedding photograph, sitting next to another of the group sans Vince, all sitting on his desk—his going away present from the team.

  “Hey,” she said softly, picking up the wedding picture instead. “This turned out really nice for coming from your phone. It’s really sweet that you framed it.” She held the picture out between them, prompting Vince to slide his own arm behind her. “This is why I married you,” Angela said.

  “So you could listen to me blubber?” Vince asked.

  Tired of Vince’s pessimism, Angela tried to lighten the mood. “No, so I’d have a picture of you in a suit with your biker guy beard.”

  Vince squinted, hiding the red in his eyes.

  “Why don’t we go for a walk?” Angela suggested. “Sun’s still up and it’s not too cold. Then maybe we can come home and just have a lazy night?”

  Maybe Vince was in the clear. Maybe he wouldn’t have to break down completely tonight. “Sure.”

  —

  Simply walking didn’t pose much of an issue in terms of stamina, so the two of them strolled hand-in-hand aimlessly through the surrounding neighborhoods until they reached streets Angela hadn’t traveled before. “How are you feeling today, by the way?” she asked after a long but comfortable silence. “I don’t think I ever asked.”

  Vince squeezed Angela’s hand consolingly. “You ask plenty. And I feel fine.”

  “Physically, right?”

  “Yes,” Vince said with poignancy.

  “Talk to me.” Angela let go of Vince’s hand and took his arm instead. “You seem like you’re holding back.”

  “I hold back every day,” Vince said frankly. “If I didn’t exercise some sort of restraint, I’d be miserable to be around all the time instead of just occasionally.”

  “Stop it,” Angela chided him. “Be nice to yourself. You’re never miserable to be around.”

  “Are you kidding? Every time you come home with a smile on
your face I manage to find a way to make it disappear.”

  Angela realized she was the only guest at a pity party. If she was honest with herself, though, she couldn’t blame Vince a bit for throwing it, but she still tried her best to pull him from his funk. “Listen to me. I am never unhappy to be around you. When you’re happy, I love being happy right along with you. And on your bad days, I’m glad that I can be there for you and even commiserate with you. I don’t dread coming home to you. I dread leaving you.”

  Set on wallowing, Vince was difficult to rescue from his consuming despair. “The last couple of weeks have been pretty good. Not a lot of breakdowns, not a lot of fear. I’ve been calm and, I don’t know, accepting, I guess. But it just really hit home today when I had to pay a near stranger to talk to Charlie about it. Not only does that make me feel like an inadequate father, but it reminds me that this is really happening. This isn’t just a story, or some convenient way for me to be able to spend time with him and for me to finally be with you. I’m…actually dying. And I—I haven’t truly realized that for a while now. I think I’ve been in a little bit of denial, which is maybe what’s made me the least bit tolerable.”

  “Keep talking. I’m listening,” Angela said.

  “I’m not ready, Angie. I can’t do this. I can’t leave Charlie, or you, or Mitch, or anyone.” Vince choked on whatever words he was trying to get out next, and Angela couldn’t allow him to walk any further. She stopped him by his arm and wrapped her own around his neck. “I’m sorry that I’m doing this to you,” Vince mumbled as he took a death grip on Angela. “I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.”

  Hearing Vince stuff up and picturing the tears blazing down his cheeks, Angela had to fight hard to keep herself cool. “Don’t think about it like that. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “That’s what’s so frustrating about this,” Vince spat. “I would do anything in my power to change this, but the fact that there aren’t any options…it makes me want to scream.”

  “Then scream.”

  Vince shook his head. “That’s not me. You know that.”

  “Then…is there anything I can do?”

  “You’ve done enough,” Vince said maliciously without thinking.

  Angela recoiled. “I didn’t mean to make things worse by going to Marshall, honestly. It just…I’m ashamed to admit this, but it felt good to tell him off. I hate that I did it, but it’s over now. Did I make things worse for you, though?” Angela gripped his shoulders and stared at Vince, terror rounding her eyes.

  Vince licked his lips and decided he might as well be honest, or Angela might never know to stop. “It was…hard enough for my friend to come to my apartment without any sort of warning and tell me I have no right to be with you. Partly because it killed me to hear those words but mostly because I knew they were true. And I suppose I can get over that much. Let’s face it, it’s Marshall. He’ll always say what’s on his mind, and if he realizes it really hurt somebody, he’ll apologize. No harm, no foul.”

  “So I did make things worse.”

  “I know you meant well, I do. I know that,” Vince said with a drawn-out sigh. “I know why you went after him, and while I don’t know what it is that you said to him, I could guess some of the things you said given that you said you overreacted. And as much as I admire how strong you are and as happy as it makes me that you love me, I don’t want somebody else—man or woman—fighting my battles for me. I just—I can’t handle sitting here while life happens to me, while I don’t have any control over what’s going on. And then knowing that my wife defended me because I didn’t have the nerve or the energy to do it myself? It’s…”

  “Emasculating?” Angela asked.

  Vince nodded, but apologetically, resting his palm on the side of Angela’s worry-stricken face. “But I know your intentions were nothing but good.”

  Angela shook her head while the shame washed over her in crashing waves. “I got so angry with Marshall but in the end all I did was the same thing he did. I did it out of love, but instead of coming across as caring, I hurt you just like he hurt me. That’s not fair. I’m so sorry.”

  “Like I said, I understand. It’s okay. It’s just an FYI,” Vince said, mustering up some lightheartedness.

  “You were much better at putting me in my place than I was with Marshall,” Angela murmured regretfully into Vince’s jacket while he rubbed her back. “I was so awful to him that I even asked him not to come tomorrow night if he wasn’t ready to apologize to you. Those two cigarettes did absolutely nothing. Ugh, one day in and I’ve already hurt you.”

  “I’m not mad at you, and I don’t want to fight,” Vince reassured her. “But if it helps to hear it, then I forgive you.”

  “What about Marshall? I need to call him when we get home. Oh, and Charlie, too. I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”

  “I have my phone on me if you want to call Charlie right now,” Vince offered.

  “I’d love that, yeah.” Vince dialed Jenna’s number for Angela and they resumed their walk as if nothing had happened. Vince was still a bit sick to his stomach over how newly certain his impending departure was, but hearing Angela talk to Charlie would be distracting enough for the time being.

  —

  “Late to your own party?” Harry scolded the guests of honor when he opened up his front door to them the next evening.

  “My fault, wardrobe emergency,” Angela explained. “I’m assuming that since you’re not wearing jeans, I’m not overdressed?” she said as she took off her jacket to reveal the fourth dress she’d tried on at her apartment—she had finally settled on something red but simple with a little help from Vince.

  “Not a pair of jeans in sight,” Harry reassured Angela. “C’mon in. I don’t think I’ve met you,” he said to Mitch, who stood patiently behind Vince.

  “Mitch, this is my good friend, Harry,” Vince said. “He took my place on the team. Harry, this is my baby brother, Mitch.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Mitch muttered in Vince’s direction. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. Gang’s all here,” Harry said. “Congratulations.”

  “Aww, no!” the three men heard Sophie whining to Angela, who had walked further into the house alone. “You have to walk in together! Go back, go back! Redo! Redo!”

  Angela came back into the foyer shrugging apologetically to Vince and holding her hand out. “So this is what you meant when you asked if the marriage was public knowledge now. I’ll be talking with you later,” she said with a threatening tone to Harry, who had packed his house—a large one, thanks to decades of otherwise frugal living—full of agents from the office and even some local police they’d all worked closely with over the years. People stood wall-to-wall. They had to have been clever and parked throughout the neighborhood. It definitely wasn’t just the small gathering Harry had promised.

  “Aww, look, they already adopted!” Sophie crooned over the applause.

  “This is my brother, Mitch, everyone,” Vince said with a chuckle. “Let me introduce you around.”

  “Who’s ready for dinner?” Harry asked. The general consensus was that it was high time for eating. “I’ll go down into the cellar and bring up some wine and champagne. Don’t wait for me, eat!” Once he was gone, everyone ignored his command and continued mingling.

  “Where’s Marshall again?” Paul asked.

  “Flu,” Sophie said with a pout, leaning against her husband whose big and tall frame towered over her.

  All color completely left Angela’s face, but thankfully, the conversation moved right along. She didn’t have much time to dwell on her spat with her friend, as familiar faces from other teams were swooping down on her, congratulating her, embracing her, some of them even saying that it was about time.

  “Fitz needs to hurry with the wine, I need to make a toast,” Sophie chirped.

  “No, no, no toasts, you guys,” Angela objected as she accepted a hug from everyone’s favorite secret
ary. “Let’s not make a big fuss.”

  “Please, there are fifty people here, it’s a big fuss,” Sophie declared. “This is one remaining smidgen of tradition you can’t take away from us.”

  “I think you’ve thoroughly embarrassed her now,” Paul told Sophie quietly.

  When Angela saw the wounded look on Sophie’s face, she held her hands up in front of her. “Oh, no, Soph, I’m not embarrassed,” she said, looking across the room to Vince, who was saying hello to someone from another team. “It’s really sweet. But you know us. We’re just not…the center-of-attention kind of people and we had no idea this was going to be so big. But we’re glad to see everyone.”

  “What? You’re not hungry?” Harry said when he returned with a crate packed with bottles, some of them dusty. “I told you not to wait for me. Eat up!”

  “Excuse me,” Vince said, earning everyone’s attention with ease. “Would anyone…mind if we said grace first?” he asked. He gulped as a few of his old colleagues stared blankly at him. But once he found his wife in the crowd, everyone followed his lead and grabbed the hands of the people nearest. “Dear Father, thank you for this spectacular looking food, and thank you for good friends, for family, and for giving us all such a good reason to get together tonight. Bless this food to our bodies. In Jesus’ name…amen.”

  Everyone else murmured their “amen”s and lined up at the dining room table-turned-buffet to dig in while Harry made his rounds to fill up everyone’s glasses.

  “That was…unexpected. But sweet,” Angela said furtively to Vince.

  “I think we should start saying it at home, too,” Vince said, though he still felt a bit lightheaded from his prayer.

  “I won’t argue with that.”

  “Did I miss anyone? Any empty glasses?” Harry asked eventually. No one replied. “Then I’d like to propose a toast.”

  With Harry making a formal proposal now, neither Angela nor Vince could pose an objection. Angela half-smiled at Sophie, who had been beaten to the punch and looked a touch crestfallen.

  “I’ll keep it short, I promise. Vince, Angela,” Harry said with bright eyes, nodding toward the bashful newlyweds, “I think I speak for everyone when I say you put everyday love to shame. I truly do believe you were meant for each other, and now I think you know it, too. And instead of running, instead of taking the easy route, you’re adding that extra level of…complication to things, because you’re just that crazy about each other. I would like to point out, as an aside, that I knew you were soul mates before anyone else,” the host boasted, pointing around the room and getting some laughs, mostly from people who knew little more about Vince and Angela than their names, positions, and basic career details. “But that’s neither here nor there. I think we can all agree that this…right here…this is the real deal.”

  Vince’s heart felt light enough to lift his body from the ground as he slipped an arm around Angela. She sneaked a hand up to his, grabbing hold of a couple of his fingers.

  “If any of us ever needs a reminder of what true love really is,” Harry continued, “we just need to think of these two lovely folks. I wish you two the most happiness in the world, not that you need much help finding it. And I said I’d keep it short, so I suppose I’d better wrap it up. If everyone would please raise their glasses…” Everyone save for Vince and Angela did just that. “To Mr. and Mrs. Glasser.”

  “To Mr. and Mrs. Glasser,” everyone echoed joyfully. Glasses clinked all around.

  Unable to breach etiquette, Vince cleared his throat once everyone else had drunk and raised his own glass. “If I may,” he said to Harry, who nodded graciously and gave him the floor. “First and foremost, thank you, Harry, for opening up your home to everyone. Given only three days’ notice, I think you put out a fantastic looking spread and got an astonishing number of people to give up their Saturday evening plans. Second, on behalf of both of us, I’d like to thank all of you for coming tonight. It’s just…really nice for us all to be together in one place with good food—not Chinese takeout in foam containers, and without any gory pictures tacked up on the wall or phones ringing off the hook in the background. Although I do miss all of that, it’s the people I miss the most. It’s great to see so many friendly faces. Angela and I are so blessed to have your love and support. Cheers.”

  “Cheers!” Everyone drank now and got creative in finding a place to sit. Forks and knives could be heard finally digging into food that looked fit for a celebration much grander.

  “I didn’t make a toast to my bride,” Vince realized, waiting for an eye roll that she absolutely gave him.

  “You know I would have hated that.”

  “I do. Not doing it was my wedding gift to you.”

  “Shame, I didn’t get you a gift,” Angela said.

  Vince took Angela’s left hand meaningfully, flattening it out against his knee. “Did, too.”

  They didn’t see much of each other after the toasts, both of them making their rounds in opposite directions. “Wow, that’s great, two plates. It’s good to see you hungry,” Angela remarked quietly the next time she talked to Vince. “I’m not even done with my first yet.”

  He laughed. “It all looked too good to pass up. Did you try some of the artichoke hearts? Amazing.”

  “No, I think you ate them all.”

  Harry left the dining room first, trying to lead everyone out so the caterers could clean up and restage for dessert. It didn’t take much more casual, comfortable mingling before Angela truly began to feel one person’s absence. She sensed that Harry knew the flu excuse was bogus. He was Harry, after all. Not much got past him. But when she heard Sophie wishing aloud to a friend that she wished Marshall could have made it, Angela’s heart grew too heavy. She excused herself from a conversation and wandered into the kitchen, where the caterer was finishing up an assortment of desserts.

  “Everything okay?” Vince asked Angela when he found her seeking space from the crowd.

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah, everything’s fine…I just…” Angela’s fake smile faltered, but she plastered it right back on. “I really messed up with Marshall,” she mumbled before taking a long sip of her wine.

  “He probably wants to talk to you but doesn’t want to make today about him.”

  Angela wanted to believe that, even if it made her feel like the lowest quality human being in the house. “Yeah. Maybe he’ll call tomorrow, otherwise I’ll talk to him Monday.”

  “Good plan. Just enjoy tonight, okay?”

  Her true smile slowly returned to her lips. “I am. This is incredibly sweet, even if it’s a bit bigger than we expected. But we need to talk to Harry about this music. He’s not even Italian, is he?”

  Vince chuckled. “I think he’s mostly Irish. Compliments to the chef,” he said to the harried caterer, who rushed from the room with some trays.

  “I don’t feel as much like we’re in Italy as I feel like we’re in an Olive Garden commercial,” Angela said.

  “Well, would you rather feel like you’re at a Justin Bieber concert?”

  “Aww, you know who Justin Bieber is? I don’t know whether I should be completely creeped out or impressed…”

  “I sit next to a ten-year-old girl at chemo. Of course I know who he is. If it makes you feel any better, though, I have no idea what he looks like.”

  “That’s a relief,” Angela said with a laugh. “Thank you.”

  “Do you know what he looks like?” Vince asked.

  “I plead the fifth. So, how’re you feeling?” she asked offhandedly, putting her wine glass down on the counter and reaching out to straighten his white and charcoal striped tie. “I have always wanted to do that, by the way.”

  “I could tell,” Vince said brightly. “And I’m feeling fine. I should probably check my blood sugar soon—” Vince shut his eyes in sudden agitation.

  “What is it?” Angela asked.

  “I need to run back home. I forgot my insulin and everything. Do you have the car keys?” br />
  “They’re in my purse,” Angela said. Vince left a kiss on her forehead and promised he would be back soon. When he found Angela’s purse and opened it up to get the keys, however, he realized that he would be back much sooner than he’d thought. Everything he needed was sitting right on top. He returned to Angela, who was braving the masses again, with his zippered case of supplies in his hand. “Well, that was fast,” Angela said with a sly grin.

  “There’s a whole pharmacy in there,” Vince said in amusement, squeezing through the people and finding a couple of hands along the way that he hadn’t shaken yet.

  “Gotta be prepared,” Angela said with a shrug.

  Vince smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

  Their first kiss on the lips that evening was spotted only by Sophie, who did her best not to clap and ask for a replay.

  “I don’t think I ever told you…” Angela said when they parted.

  “Told me what?” Vince asked, following her to an empty corner of the room.

  “I’m glad we waited.”

  “Waited for…? Oh, that.”

  Angela blushed. “Yeah. Sophie and I had a little chat about it yesterday at lunch and she reacted the same way I did initially, but when I explained it to her, I realized how much I appreciated the fact that we waited.” She licked her lips and looked around them to make sure they still had privacy. “Granted, it was only about a month, but we easily could have done things differently and I’m so glad we didn’t. So thank you. It was perfect, in case you’ve been having any doubts.”

  Vince’s eyes glinted impishly. “No doubts here, but thanks all the same.”

  “Dessert is served,” Harry announced.

  “None for you, you’re a pig,” Angela muttered, tightening the knot on Vince’s tie until he laughed and fought against her hand.

  “In all seriousness,” he said, settling down, “I agree with you. I was honestly coming at it more from an obedience standpoint. I had no idea it would make it so…”

  “Perfect,” Angela repeated.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s the only word for it, isn’t it?”

  Mitch smelled distinctly of cigarettes as he sidled up to Angela and Vince. “This dude’s gonna put you in a sugar coma, Vince.”

  “In my defense, I had nothing to do with the cake. That was courtesy of the lovely Phyllis from the first floor and our very own Agent Brannon,” Harry said. “I’ll go find a knife and we can have the happy couple cut in.”

  A double-tiered white frosted cake sat in the center of the table, tastefully decorated. The other desserts on the table looked delicious but daunting to Vince, who already knew his body would punish him for all the food he’d shoveled back a short while ago.

  Sophie was close by, so Angela leaned over for a hug and to thank her. “Please frost his nose. For me,” Sophie whispered. “I have my camera ready and you’re lucky I haven’t gone all paparazzi on you tonight like I’ve wanted to.”

  “We’ll see,” Angela laughed as the chatter grew louder again.

  No one but the perpetrator knew where it had started, but the first fork against a glass compelled the other guests to do the same. Vince’s look to Angela was one of resignation at first, knowing they had to please the crowd. “One,” he mouthed, holding up his index finger to everyone. “Just one.” Angela seemed uncomfortable, too, but right before their lips met, as everyone in the room waited with bated breath, both her smile and Vince’s changed to something much less restrained, more jubilant and suitable to the occasion. “I love you,” Vince murmured to her, not taking his lips away quite yet.

  She kept her eyes closed and basked in the warmth. “I love you, too.”

  Now satisfied, the other guests got back to their conversations. “Oh, and before you guys cut the cake, we did get you a gift. But you can’t open it until you’re home, or at least in the car. Gotta follow the rules,” Harry said as he showed up with a cake knife.

  “A gift wasn’t really necessary—” Vince tried to say, but he was drowned out by protests. Harry handed Angela an envelope.

  “And with that, it’s time to cut that cake, I think,” Sophie said.

  “You really want to hand me a knife right now?” Vince joked as he took it anyway.

  —

  “Well?” Vince asked Angela while she kicked her shoes off inside the apartment and he loosened his tie. Mitch excused himself to the bathroom.

  Angela rubbed her throbbing heels and looked at him questioningly. “What?”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t opened the envelope yet,” Vince said.

  “Oh, right. Well, I figured we could be adults about it and at least wait until we got home. But we’re home now,” she said, ducking down to her purse and handing Vince the envelope. “You open it.”

  Vince lifted an eyebrow and slid his finger under the flap while Angela stepped behind him and hugged his middle. He swung an arm back behind her shoulder, holding her close as he read the message on the card, out of which slipped two gift cards that he almost dropped. “‘Dear Vince and Angela,’” he read, “‘Let’s face it—who uses gravy boats, anyway? Instead, use these to go anywhere you want, any time you want, as long as there’s a participating hotel nearby. When you’re feeling up to it, take a last minute trip somewhere for a couple of days. The destination is up to you, as long as you make the journey together.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet…”

  “And expensive,” Vince added when he saw the back of the gift cards.

  “Seriously. Look, even Hanson signed it,” Angela said, counting more signatures than they had had guests. “Should we have invited her?”

  “I’m sure Harry invited her if he invited everyone else, and she just politely declined. Look,” Vince said, pointing to a signature that was illegible save for its initials.

  “Is that Marshall? Do you think someone else signed for him?” Angela asked, taking the card and holding it closer.

  “I’ve seen all of your signatures thousands of times,” Vince said, his other arm closing Angela in against his chest. “I even know what it looks like when you forge each other’s. That’s definitely the real deal.”

  —

  “I’m fine,” Vince muttered at three o’clock in the morning when Angela found him hunched over the toilet bowl, heaving. He wiped his mouth while she wet a washcloth for him. “I just overdid it at the reception.”

  Angela silently perched herself on the edge of the bathtub, frowning and squinting against the light while her eyes struggled to adjust.

  Vince ended his current bout and flushed, then fell without grace into a seated position on the rug. “Thanks,” he barely said when Angela handed him the washcloth.

  “I don’t think that was from overeating at dinner,” she said ominously. “Maybe your pain meds just really don’t agree with your stomach. Did you take your Zofran?”

  “Yeah, and then I threw it right up. I’ve been in and out of bed all night,” Vince said, pressing the cool cloth to his flushed face. “Sorry I woke you up.”

  “Don’t be.” Angela leaned over and kneaded Vince’s shoulders. “Do you think you got it all?”

  Vince shook his head definitively. “Not done yet. Go ahead back to bed.” He waved her off, his limbs shaking as he stumbled back onto his knees and gripped the counter.

  Angela waved a hand over Vince’s taut back and told him she was going to make him some peppermint tea. Upon finding that they had no tea left at all, and no other antiemetics that she knew of besides soda crackers, she at least brought a package of those back to bed. Vince was crawling back under the covers and straightening out his twisted sheets. He shook his head at the crackers Angela proffered, but popped another pill. “I think that was it,” he rasped.

  She sat down at his edge of the bed and rested the back of her hand against his forehead. “You’re really warm.”

  “I’m all flushed from throwing up, that’s all,” Vince insisted.

  “You’re really shaky??
?”

  “From kneeling on a tile floor. And from throwing up. I’m fine, really.” He eyed Angela intently. “I promise, okay?”

  “Okay,” Angela relented, setting the crackers down on Vince’s nightstand and walking around to her side of the bed. “Why don’t you just sleep in tomorrow morning? You can miss a day of church.”

  “I’ll see how I feel in the morning,” Vince said, batting his pillows into shape. He rearranged the covers over both of them and relaxed his arm over Angela’s side.

  “I think maybe it’s your pain pills making you sick,” Angela said, continuing their conversation from before. “The ibuprofen bugs your stomach, and then when you switch to the narcotics, those make it worse,” Angela said. “The oral stuff, anyway. Maybe we should try a patch…or maybe medicinal marijuana…”

  “It’s a little early to give Mitch material for weed jokes,” Vince objected. “I’ll call up my doctor on Monday, though, and we’ll talk about it, all right?”

  “Mmm-kay,” Angela said before she let out a long yawn.

  —

  After a long day of thinking out loud and planning for every contingency, by far the highlight of Vince and Angela’s Sunday was welcoming Charlie home from his trip. He practically bounced through the door.

  “Let’s go put your things away and you can tell me about your trip,” Angela said, leading Charlie back to his bedroom. Vince watched them leave. Jenna clearly wanted a word with him.

  “Just so you know,” Jenna said, “I didn’t tell anyone, like I said I wouldn’t. But Charlie went on and on about Angela and how she…tucks him in and helps him with his homework and lets him read to her and all that. So they do know that much. I just thought I’d keep you updated.”

  Vince thought Jenna sounded a bit uneasy. “That’s fine, and thanks for letting me know, but are you okay?”

  “Me? Yeah,” she sighed, “just tired. I, umm, wouldn’t let Charlie sleep in the car, so he should sleep well tonight. I’m gonna head home. See you around.”

  “Thanks, Jen. Have a safe drive.”

  “’Night.”

  “Charlie, come give me another hug,” Vince called out. His son came running maniacally and rushed into his arms. “Hey, buddy. I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, Daddy.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  Charlie nodded with fervor. “My Great Auntie Betty said I’m really good at making cookies, and me and my second cousins got to have a sleepover!”

  “Wow, that’s cool,” Angela said. “So you have some fun family members to hang out with out there, don’t you?”

  “Yup! My Great Auntie Marge said you’re a gold digger and Daddy’s cancer girlfriend,” Charlie told Angela. “What does that mean?” He remained oblivious to the fact that he’d shocked anyone.

  Vince cleared his throat. “Charlie, I love Angela and she loves me. Period. I would have told her I loved her eventually whether or not I had cancer, so I like to think. And ‘gold digger’ is a mean thing to call somebody. I know this might not make sense to you, but some people might think Angela is with me because she wants my money.”

  “Why would she get your money? You always say you don’t have enough.”

  “I won’t be getting any of your daddy’s money,” Angela said, sharing a dark stare with Vince. “I’m not with your daddy for any reason other than the fact that I love him. And if anyone ever says differently, you can tell them that, okay?”

  “Okay,” Charlie said, appeased. “Are we having macaroni for dinner?”

  “We sure are,” Vince said, feeling a little guilty for buttering up his son. But he felt as if he had no choice.

  Charlie was none the wiser until, with dinner on the table, he noticed his father and Angela staring at each other instead of eating. “Why are you looking at each other funny?” he asked.

  “Let’s say grace,” Vince proposed.

  Charlie put up no argument, as his aunt often said grace at her own dinner table. He led them in a rhyming common table prayer. “Come Lord Jesus, be our guest. Let us and these thy gifts be blessed. And make Daddy eat a lot. And give him more money. Amen.”

  “Amen. This looks amazing,” Angela said, digging in.

  “Charlie,” Vince said before he ate. “We have some…big news to share with you.”

  “What?”

  Vince reached across the table for Angela’s left hand. They weren’t wearing their rings just now. “Well, Angela and I…we got married.”

  Charlie dropped his fork on his plate. “Really?”

  Angela beamed. “Really. What do you think of that?”

  The couple waited on tenterhooks, but not for very long.

  “That means you have to live here now, right?” Charlie asked with high hopes.

  Vince’s lungs emptied in one relieved sigh while Angela’s relaxed laughter flitted about the room.

  “Well, I don’t think there’s any law that says I have to, but I want to and I will,” she said. “I take it that means you’re happy?”

  Charlie’s toothy grin and energetic nod were, unbeknownst to him, one of the most beautiful things his father had ever seen. “When are you moving?” he asked.

  “Well,” Angela explained, “I don’t really have a lot of stuff I need to bring. Just clothes, bathroom stuff, that sort of thing. We don’t need any more furniture or decorations in here. So I could move in any time.”

  “Did you already pack your clothes?” Charlie asked keenly.

  “Uh, yeah, I did, it’s all—it’s all out in my car,” she replied, still in disbelief at how seamless the transition seemed to be already.

  “Let’s go get it!” Charlie exclaimed, jumping down from his chair and yanking Angela’s hand. “Come on!”

  —

  “Angela?” Charlie asked after saying his prayers that night.

  “Yeah, sweetie?” Angela was on tuck-in duty tonight and feeling rather invincible at the moment—there had still been no mention of moms, mommies, or mothers on Charlie’s end. It seemed as though she and Vince were going to get away without any awkward conversations. Charlie was elated at the news of the marriage and had helped Angela unpack her things.

  “You’re my stepmom now,” he informed her.

  “That I am,” she said with a suddenly dry mouth. So much for their lucky streak. “Are you happy about that?”

  Charlie nodded fervently. “Yeah. Do I call you Stepmom now?”

  Angela breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “If someone is your stepmom, you usually don’t call them that when you’re talking to them. You don’t say, ‘Hey, Stepmom, can you tuck me in?’ So how about you keep calling me Angela? I really like that.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I love it, actually.”

  “But if people ask me, can I say I have a stepmom now?”

  “Of course you can,” Angela said, sweeping Charlie’s hair from his forehead once he climbed under the covers. “But when you’re talking to me, it’s more personal and meaningful for you to call me Angela. Is that okay with you?”

  Charlie nodded. “Are you still like a mommy, though?”

  She gulped. “I love you and I’ll always be here for you, but I just didn’t carry you in my belly. So I guess I’m like a mommy, yes.”

  “But you’re not really my mommy, you’re like…my Angela,” Charlie said

  Again, Angela felt as if she had a guardian angel watching over her. This conversation certainly could have been going down a much more difficult path. “Exactly. I’m your Angela. And you’re my Charlie.”

  “Can I sleep with you and Daddy tonight?”

  “Nice try.”

  —

  The next morning, Angela was roused by her cell phone telling her that Harry most likely wanted her on a plane sometime in the near future. It was far too early to be calling for anything else. She reached blindly for her phone. “Ugh…not now,” she croaked.

  “Who is it?” Vince asked, waking with a sharp
inhalation.

  “It’s Fitz. Good morning. This had better be good,” Angela said into her phone, flopping back against the headboard. “Yeah, I figured…Really? Huh…Let me talk to Vince about it….I’ll get back to you.”

  “Case?” Vince asked, sitting up next to Angela.

  “Yeah, but Fitz asked if I was coming. I guess it’s optional.”

  “Well, a normal couple would be honeymooning right now. Maybe he’s trying to give you that time.”

  Angela sighed. “It’s not even that. Your chemo starts up again this week, I can’t go—”

  “Go,” Vince said calmly, cupping Angela’s knee through the mess of blankets. “The team needs you. I’ll be fine.”

  Angela nodded, though reluctantly. “I have a few hours before our flight.” She gulped. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m sorry if this is sudden, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I think it’s best that we think about it ahead of time, even if we don’t decide…but…ugh, how do I ask this?”

  “Don’t try to rephrase it. If it sounds bad, oh well.”

  “Okay, here goes. Where do you plan on…I can’t…there’s no right time to bring this up, I guess…okay, where do you plan on…passing away?”

  Vince felt for Angela, knowing that it was harsher to talk about the actual event so directly than it was to refer to the aftermath. Dying sounded much more traumatic than simply being gone.

  “I’ve thought about that a little, too. I’m not sure. What do you think?”

  “What do I think?” Angela asked. “Vince, this is—this is your decision. Nobody else’s. When you…when it happens…” She stopped and bit her bottom lip. “You need to be comfortable.”

  “I know.”

  “Okay, then, do you want it to be here or at a hospice center?”

  Vince shrugged. “Either way, I’ll be getting the care I need. It’s more about what’s most convenient for you guys. I mean—”

  “I want to be there,” Angela said, enveloping one of Vince’s hands and bringing it to her lap. “I know I’ve said it before, but I mean it, now more than ever. And I don’t just want to be there for the end. I can take time off to take care of you, and I…I want to.” Her eyebrows moved a touch.

  “Is that really what you want, or is it something you feel obligated to do? Because I don’t see it as a wifely duty. Just because you said ‘in sickness and in health’ doesn’t mean you need to take it that far.”

  Tears rimmed Angela’s eyes when she pictured Vince lying in this very bed, wasting away, but she couldn’t envision him passing anywhere else. “I want to. It’s not out of any sense of obligation, so please stop thinking things like that. I didn’t even think about our marriage in those kind of legal terms until Sophie asked me about it, actually. And ever since we got together, I kind of assumed in the back of my mind that I would be there by your side. It never really clicked that I could take time off without risking my job. What?” she asked when she saw Vince’s almost playfully knowing look.

  “It did cross my mind. I just wanted you to be the one to suggest it. I could never ask you to do it, even if I knew you wanted to.”

  “Well, I could never picture letting anyone else do it. Are you okay with this?”

  “Honestly, I don’t look forward to you having to do everything—and I mean everything—for me,” Vince said plainly, “but I know you well enough to understand how hard it would be for you to sit by and watch someone else do it. At least, that’s what I think is going through your head.”

  Angela smiled gently and rested her cheek on Vince’s shoulder. “That’s exactly what’s going through my head. So…here?”

  “Why not?” Vince said. “I can’t imagine being more comfortable at some center. Can you do me a favor, though? Sounds odd to ask that, considering what you’re already offering,” he realized.

  Angela grinned sadly at Vince’s remark. “Of course. What is it?”

  “Just…think about it. We have a while before we need to make that decision. The chemo seems to be working still, as of my last scan, so I don’t think I’ll be stopping it soon, so just…think about it.”

  “I have.”

  “Then think about it some more. Not while you’re away on the case, though. Focus on your work. But just have this in the back of your mind and be analytical about it, okay? I think this will be far more difficult than either one of us really understands right now. It’s not just…giving me pain medication and feeding me if I can still even eat. It’s the messy stuff, too, and it’s watching me deteriorate, which would already be hard even if you didn’t see me all day, every day, and it’s dealing with me getting cranky and probably losing my mind once they amp up the pain meds—”

  “I’m doing this.” She let her body relax when Vince wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I’ll give it a week if that’ll make you feel better, but I can’t see myself changing my mind. I know I can be irritating with my need to take care of you, but—”

  “This doesn’t fall under that umbrella,” Vince promised.

  “So you admit I can be irritating?” Angela teased. Their bodies shook together as they laughed. “I mean it. I know it gets annoying, and I’m trying to tone it down for now. I know you’re still capable of taking care of yourself.”

  “Angela, I’m not complaining. That’s not what this conversation is about, anyway.” He drew back and lay a soft kiss on her forehead. “This is going to be hard for you either way. I just want to make sure you do the right thing for yourself.”

  “What about you?” Angela asked, putting her chin up and meeting his eyes. “This is really about you. I mean…what’s going on in your head right now? I really need to know.”

  Vince’s lips disappeared into a thin, barely present smile. “You guys. Always.”

  “Before or after?”

  “Primarily after. I can be with you right now, and even though we all end up miserable because I’m sick, at least we get to see each other. But to know that…that there’s a time in the foreseeable future that I won’t get to be with the people I love…there’s nothing quite as scary, even if I’m not so scared of where I’ll end up. It’s almost like I’m being left behind, even though you might look at it the other way around. Part of me hopes that this doesn’t drag out too long for your sakes, but when I think more selfishly about it, I would lie in this bed for years if it meant I could see you every day.” Vince’s face was already buried in Angela’s hair by the time he paused, listening to them both suddenly weeping. “That’s what’s running through my head right now.”

  Angela nodded into his chest and found his hand. “Thank you. For letting me in. I know it’s not exactly fun or romantic to talk about, but I always wonder what’s going on behind the scenes. Sometimes I can read you and sometimes I can’t.”

  “It was cathartic. I’m glad you got it out of me.” They sat still for a while, calming against one another. “So, where’s the case?” he asked finally, changing the subject for the sake of their weary hearts.

  Angela wasn’t terribly surprised. “Miami.”

  “Nice weather, at least.”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna have to drop back by my apartment just to find something to wear that’s not a sweater.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Vince asked.

  “Of course.”

  “You pay an awful lot of money for a place you don’t even sleep at anymore. Can you let me help with your rent or something?”

  “No, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Angela said, waving him off.

  “What about when you go on leave? You won’t be getting paid.”

  “Vince, I have enough set aside, I promise. I don’t want your money.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t think of it that way. You’re my wife. It’s our money, not mine.”

  “It’s our money, so we decide together what to do with it?” Angela asked.

  “Exactly.”


  “Okay, then my vote is that we don’t worry about my rent, we live within our means right now, and we put the rest away for Charlie’s college education. I can see it now. He’s going Ivy League. Sound good?”

  Vince rolled his eyes. “It was worth a shot. I will take you on a nice expensive vacation, though, how about that?”

  Angela chuckled. “I need to go take a shower. Why don’t you try and go back to sleep? I’ll be quiet.”

  “Normally, I’d say no, but…” Vince’s red eyes grew heavy at the prospect of more sleep. He was too tired to yawn.

  “On the off chance that I actually manage not to wake you up…I’m only a phone call away. Call if you need anything.”

  “All right.”

  “I love you,” Angela said before crawling out of bed.

  “Love you, too. Be safe.” Vince watched her disappear into the bathroom before he rolled over and passed out.

  —

  Angela was on time for a change—so on time that she was early, and the first one in the office to carpool to the airport. She made herself comfortable at her desk and decided to use the next few minutes to lean back in her chair and rest her eyes. However, she wasn’t the only one who showed up early. She heard Marshall’s unmistakable footsteps carry him into the bullpen. He sat down carefully in his chair.

  Angela peeled her eyes open. “Hey,” she muttered.

  “Hey there. You really sleeping?”

  Angela shook her head. “Wish I was,” she said dryly.

  Marshall put his elbow up on his desk. “Can we talk?”

  “Right now?” Angela knew they wouldn’t be able to work the case together effectively if they didn’t find some sort of resolution, but for all the phone calls she’d made in an attempt to patch things up with him, she wasn’t really prepared for this conversation.

  “If someone gets in before we’re done, we can pick it up later,” Marshall said.

  “Okay. I think I should start,” Angela said. “I’m sorry I talked to you like I did. I’m not sorry for every single word I said, in all honesty, but I am sorry for how I said it. How I approached things mirrored what I felt you’d done to Vince. You were standing up for me when you ambushed him, and I was standing up for him when I ambushed you. I didn’t see that then. I was far too angry to have a fair conversation.”

  “I deserved it,” Marshall said. “You were right. Vince has enough to worry about without me digging up issues he’d already dealt with. If I would’ve taken time to think about it, I would’ve realized you guys had already thought about all that. Neither you nor Vince ever jump into anything unless you’re fully committed.”

  “That doesn’t invalidate your concerns, though, and it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them. Listen, you’re like a brother to me. You’re my family. I love that you care about me enough to get…that riled up. And I’m sorry for how I repaid the favor. I guess I just need you to understand that those issues between me and Vince…they’re tough not to think about every day. For him and for me. And I get extremely defensive of my own intelligence, I guess, and I get protective of him. But…I should’ve let him deal with you in his own way, which would have been just to let you cool down and come back later, like you would have, because you would never hurt someone like that and not realize it and not try to fix it. You’re not dumb and you’re not heartless. You’re just…a hothead. And it takes one to know one,” she said with a grin. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I shouldn’t have intervened. You have a right to be concerned and Vince is a big boy and he can still take care of himself.”

  “Did you get a talkin’ to?” Marshall guessed.

  Angela flashed a millisecond of a guilty grin. “Possibly. But he was right. As much as I want to go jumping to his defense the second anyone says anything about him that isn’t a glowing review of his character, he doesn’t like that. And I don’t blame him. He appreciates support when he’s going through tough times, but he doesn’t want to hide behind someone else while they fight for him. That’s not his style.”

  “But you’re still mad at me,” Marshall said bluntly, but not in accusatory tone, purely an observational one.

  Angela chewed on her lip. “Maybe a little. Like I said, I get protective. And he was…doubtful later on that day. You shook him up a little. I think he’s fine now, in that respect, but yes, I think I’m at least still a little irritated, if that’s okay. I don’t want to feel that way, but I don’t want to lie about it, either. I’m sure it’ll pass soon.”

  Marshall opened up his hands and closed them around Angela’s. “You can still be mad at me if I’m still allowed to be scared for you. Fair enough?”

  Angela remembered just how scared she had been just a short time ago, holding on to Vince and crying into his shoulder. “This wasn’t about whether you were scared for me, it was just about how you went about showing it. Of course you can be scared for me. I can’t stop you from feeling that way. I feel that way. Everyone does.”

  Marshall nodded. “Unless this Miami case is open and shut, I’m gonna call Vince today and talk to him. To apologize,” he clarified. “Not to antagonize. And when we get back, I’m gonna come visit, just for the sake of visiting. I did a lot of thinkin’ over the weekend about what you said about the rest of us being in denial. You’re right. We haven’t been acting like our friend is dying. We’ve been acting like he’s on sick leave and he’ll heal up and be back on his feet, just like after Chicago. I’m gonna make a real effort. I promise.”

  “He’d love that.”

  “So, how’d the reception go?” Marshall asked.

  “It was really nice. Thank you for going in on the gift, by the way. We don’t know how we’ll use it yet, but we loved it. And the night would’ve been perfect with you there, but that’s my own fault.”

  “Not just yours. Sorry I ignored your calls. I wanted to smooth things over, but on the off chance that talking to one or both of you just made things worse, I wanted to wait it out. I didn’t wanna upset you. That was your day to enjoy.” He inspected Angela’s wedding ring, his lips turning up in approval. “Did you get any pictures?”

  “Oh, as soon as I frosted Vince’s nose for Sophie, she went snap happy. I’m surprised she hasn’t sent you anything,” Angela said. Marshall chuckled, and for a passing moment, Angela pictured the team gathered around a laptop or someone’s phone, enjoying some silly photos from the party. In Angela’s mind, one of the onlookers was Vince, as healthy and vibrant as ever, trying not too crack too wide of a smile at Sophie’s antics.

  It was a nearly fatal punch to the gut. Just as quickly as Angela had imagined it, the vision was replaced by what really lay before her: a mostly empty bullpen where she would never see Vince again—at least not ready to work—where the only form of his presence would be that which existed in their memories.

  Her first few cases after Vince’s resignation had been rough in that respect. She’d lost her partner. She’d managed to ignore that pain at work for a few weeks, but she felt it creeping its way back into her consciousness now, just waiting for her to reach the point where she no longer had the energy to fight it. One of these days, when she was less equipped to handle that agony, it would close its gnarled hands around her throat.