And then the truth came out.
He had not just called Malcolm out of convenience. He had been having a heart attack. Afraid and alone, he called his closest friend instead of an ambulance.
Malcolm had been rushing to help him.
And never made it.
“I could not tell you,” Graham said. “I did not want you to marry me out of pity.”
I stared at him, torn between anger and something deeper.
“You did not trust me,” I said softly.
“I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid you would have to go through that loss again.”
My anger faded, replaced by something else.
Love.
“You foolish man,” I said, taking his hand. “Do you think love disappears when things get difficult?”
Tears filled his eyes.
“We are going to face this together,” I said.
And we did.
