Becca told her no. Only his attending physician and his attorney had known. He had signed legal documents formalizing the arrangement.
Then Becca told her something that required a moment to absorb.
A week before the surgery, Anthony had decided he was going to tell Ember the truth. He had said the words out loud to Becca. Today is the day.
Ember asked what had happened.
Becca said she had come in that afternoon laughing. Telling him a story about something that had happened on the way to the hospital. He had watched her face while she talked, and then he had looked at Becca and said, not today. He said he wanted one more normal day with her.
He did not get the chance to choose a different day after that.
Ember sat in her car with the phone pressed to her ear and said, quietly and with complete certainty, that he had not had the right to make that choice for her.
That she would have stayed. She would have carried it alongside him. That was what twenty-five years of a life together meant, and he should have known that better than anyone.
Becca said softly that she knew.
And Ember said, just as softly, that he had chosen for her anyway.
What Else Was Hidden in the Pillow
She looked back into the pillow.
There were legal documents folded carefully at the bottom.
A trust agreement. A business account already established. A signed lease for a commercial property.
And a separate piece of paper documenting the sale of his father’s 1968 Mustang, which Anthony had loved since he was a teenager and which had lived in their garage for as long as Ember could remember.
He had sold it six months ago.
Handwritten notes were scribbled in the margins of the lease documents. Observations about the location and the space. A reminder to himself to repaint the interior and a note that she would hate whatever color it currently was, but that sage green would be right.
At the top of the lease, in letters he had written more boldly than everything else on the page, were two words.
Ember Bakes.
She pressed her hand over her mouth.
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