Николас Спаркс - The Choice

He paused, noting with surprise that the pigeon had returned. It must like listening to him talk, he decided.

“That’s how I knew you’d be great with kids, by the way. Because of how you were with Molly. Even that first time we met . . .” He shook his head, his mind flashing back. “Believe it or not, I’ve always liked the fact that you stormed over to my place that night, and not just because we ended up getting married. You were like a mama bear protecting her cub. It’s impossible to get that angry unless you’re capable of loving deeply, and after watching how you were with Molly—lots of love and attention, lots of worry, and nobody on earth better mess with her—I knew you’d be exactly the same way with kids.”

He traced his finger along her arm. “Do you know how much that’s meant to me? Knowing how much you love our daughters? You have no idea how much comfort that gave me over the years.”

He leaned his face close to her ear. “I love you, Gabby, more than you’ll ever know. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a wife. You’re every hope and every dream I’ve ever had, and you’ve made me happier than any man could possibly be. I don’t ever want to give that up. I can’t. Can you understand that?”

He waited for a response, but there was nothing. There was always nothing, as if God were telling him that his love was somehow not enough. Staring at Gabby, he suddenly felt very old and very tired. He adjusted the sheet, feeling alone and apart from his wife, knowing he was a husband whose love had somehow failed her.

“Please,” he whispered. “You’ve got to wake up, sweetheart. Please? We’re running out of time.”

“Hey,” Stephanie said. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she looked nothing like the successful professional she’d become. Living in Chapel Hill, she was the senior project manager at a rapidly growing biotechnology firm, but in the last three months, she’d spent three or four days a week in Beaufort. Since the accident, she’d been the only one Travis could really talk to. She alone knew all his secrets.

“Hey,” Travis said.

She crossed the room and leaned over the side of the bed. “Hey, Gabby,” she said, kissing her on the cheek. “You doing okay?”

Travis loved the way his sister treated Gabby. Except for Travis, she was the only one who’d always seemed comfortable in Gabby’s presence.

Stephanie pulled up another chair and slid it closer to Travis. “And how are you doing, big brother?”

“Okay,” he said.

Stephanie gave him the once-over. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re not eating enough.” She reached in her handbag and pulled out a bag of peanuts. “Eat these.”

“I’m not hungry. I just had lunch.”

“How much?”

“Enough.”

“Humor me, okay?” She used her teeth to tear open the bag. “Just eat these and I promise I’ll shut up and won’t bother you again.”

“You say that every time you’re here.”

“That’s because you keep looking like hell.” She tilted her head toward Gabby. “I’ll bet she said the same thing, too, right?” She’d never questioned Travis’s claims about hearing Gabby’s voice, or if she did, her tone reflected no concerns about it.

“Yeah, she did.”

She forced the bag toward him. “Then take the peanuts.”

Travis took the bag, lowering it to his lap.

“Now put some in your mouth, then chew and swallow.”

She sounded like their mother. “Did anyone ever tell you that you can be a little bit too pushy at times?”

“Every day. And believe me, you need someone to be pushy with you. You’re just lucky you have me in your life. I’m quite the blessing for you.”

For the first time all day, he gave a genuine laugh. “That’s one word for it.” He poured out a small handful of nuts and began to chew. “How are things with you and Brett?”

Stephanie had been dating Brett Whitney for the past two years. One of the most successful hedge fund managers in the country, he was wildly wealthy, handsome, and considered by many to be the most eligible bachelor south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

“We’re still going.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

Stephanie shrugged. “He asked me to marry him again.”

“And you said?”

“The same thing I said before.”

“How did he take it?”

“Fine. Oh, he did his ‘I’m hurt and angry’ thing again, but he was back to normal in a couple of days. We spent last weekend in New York.”

“Why don’t you just marry him?”

She shrugged. “I probably will.”

“Here’s a hint, then. You might want to say yes when he asks.”

“Why? He’ll ask again.”

“You sound so certain when you say that.”

“I am. And I’ll say yes when I’m positive he wants to marry me.”

“He’s asked you three times. How much more positive can you get?”

“He just thinks he wants to marry me. Brett is the kind of guy who likes challenges, and right now, I’m a challenge. As long as I stay a challenge, he’ll keep asking. And when I know he’s really ready, that’s when I’ll say yes.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“Trust me,” she said. “I know men, and I have my charms.” Her eyes glittered with mischief. “He knows that I don’t need him, and it practically kills him.”

“No,” he said. “You definitely don’t need him.”

“So, changing the subject, when are you going back to work?”

“Soon,” he mumbled.

She reached into his bag of peanuts and popped a couple in her mouth. “You are aware that Dad’s not exactly a spring chicken anymore.”

“I know.”

“So . . . next week?”

When Travis didn’t respond, Stephanie folded her hands in front of her. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen, since you obviously haven’t made up your mind. You’re going to start showing up at the clinic, and at the very least, you’re going to stay every day until at least one o’clock. That’s your new schedule. Oh, and you can close the office on Friday at noon. That way, Dad’s only there for four afternoons.”

He squinted at her. “I can see you’ve been giving this a lot of thought.”

“Someone has to. And just so you know, this isn’t just for Dad. You need to go back to work.”

“What if I don’t think I’m ready?”

“Too bad. Do it anyway. If not for you, do it for Christine and Lisa.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your daughters. Remember them?”

“I know who they are. . . .”

“And you love them, right?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“Then if you love them,” she said, ignoring his question, “you’ve got to start acting like a parent again. And that means you have to go back to work.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, “you have to show them that no matter what horrible things happen in life, you still have to go on. That’s your responsibility. Who else is going to teach them that?”

“Steph . . .”

“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but I am saying you don’t have a choice. After all, you haven’t let them quit, have you? They’re still in school, right? You’re still making them do homework, right?”

Travis said nothing.

“So, if you expect them to handle their responsibilities—and they’re only six and eight—then you’ve got to handle yours. They need to see you getting back to normal, and work is part of that. Sorry. That’s life.”

Travis shook his head, feeling his anger rise. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand completely.”

He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. “Gabby is . . .”

When he didn’t continue, Stephanie put her hand on his knee. “Passionate? Intelligent? Kind? Moral? Funny? Forgiving? Patient? Everything you ever imagined in a wife and mother? In other words, pretty much perfect?”