214 Wills

Vivian Zaslow lay with her eyes closed, all the color drained from her face.

I'd learned everything there was to know, and not one word of it had been explained to me. My chest felt like it might cave in.

Her mother, Nancy Zaslow, came rushing in, bag still in hand. The second Nancy saw her daughter on the hospital bed, her eyes went red.

"Nancy..."

The slap landed before I could finish. It stung all the way down to the bone.

"Didn't you promise me you'd take care of her? How could you just stand there and let Vivian throw herself into something that dangerous?"

I turned my face back toward her, blood filling my mouth with a faint, coppery taste.

"Nancy, Vivian's an adult. She gets to make her own choices. I don't have a say in her choices."

"Nonsense." Nancy's brows knit together as she jabbed a finger into my chest. "She was never like this when she was with the other boy. You're bad luck. That's what you are."

I swallowed down a mouthful of blood and pulled my mouth into a thin, bitter smile. "Fine. Vivian and I are done. That should satisfy you."

"You think you can threaten me with a breakup?" Her voice climbed sharply.

"Mom..."

Vivian's voice came out weak, her eyes cracking open. "Don't blame Stuart. This isn't his fault."

She trembled as she tried to push herself upright. Her assistant hurried over to prop her up from behind.

"Don't give him a hard time."

"Would you look at that. My daughter is defending an outsider against me. If the two of you get married, is my daughter going to stop calling me Mom?"

Nancy let out a cold snort and slammed the door on her way out.

I gritted my teeth against the burning in my cheek and didn't make a sound.

Vivian reached up with a shaking hand and gently wiped my face clean. "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I put you through that. It won't happen again, all right?"

Her voice was as gentle as it had always been. Nothing about it had changed.

"Are you going to explain your will to me?"

She glanced over at her assistant's face, then turned back to me with a smile.

"I'm fine now. You should be glad we don't have to use it."

"Can you stop dodging the question? I don't want your money. I don't need any of it. Just tell me one thing. Why is there a stranger standing between us?"

The machines in the room ticked on, steady and quiet.

A nurse pushed the door open and pressed a finger to her lips. "Please keep it down. You'll disturb the other patients."

Vivian's expression stayed perfectly composed. Next to her, I looked like the one who'd lost his mind.

"If we're being honest, you're the stranger here."

She smiled, and a thin fog crept over her oxygen mask. It was as if I'd never once actually seen her clearly, not in all this time.

"Why do you even care? We're the ones getting married in the end."

But I couldn't think straight anymore. All I could do was repeat her own words back to her.

"I'm the stranger? Say it again. I'm the stranger?"

I shoved my hair back, exposing the scar on my forehead.

"The second something happened to you, I fell down a flight of stairs getting here. I didn't even stop to treat the wound. All I could think about was seeing your face."

A flicker of pain crossed Vivian's eyes. She started to say something, then broke into a violent fit of coughing, blood welling up at the corner of her mouth.

"Ms. Zaslow!"

Her assistant scrambled to his feet, but she caught his wrist before he could move.

"I'm fine. Have the doctor look at Stuart's wound first."

Vivian gripped my wrist, her breath coming thin and ragged.

"Don't let the will get to you. Daryl has no one and nothing in this world. He saved my life once. I only ever wanted to pay him back. That's all it was."

"Just paying him back?"

She managed the smallest of nods; it cost her everything she had left.

"Don't lie to me."

I picked up one of the letters lying nearby.

"Being buried next to him after you're gone, that's paying him back too? So what does that make me, then?

"Vivian, let's just end this. I'm the outsider here. I won't get in the way of whatever this is between you two anymore."

"Stuart Markman!" She screamed my name with everything she had left in her.

I didn't look back. I pressed down on the door handle.

The moment I stepped out of that room, every ounce of strength drained out of me. I had to fight just to stay on my feet.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Even something as simple as entering my passcode, a motion I could do in my sleep, took me several tries.

The phone screen finally came up.

[Mr. Markman, please arrange your schedule accordingly. Your flight departs at midnight tomorrow.]