Fitting the Pieces (Riverdale #3)

Cara was going through boxes in the garage in search for another extension cord for Luke. He was driving her crazy. Apparently her Christmas shenanigans were wearing, rubbing off on him, and this year he was determined to pull out all the stops. He was stringing lights from the roof of their house all the way down to the bushes in their garden. She had to laugh a little at his determination to make this Christmas the best Christmas ever, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him that two years ago, he had already achieved that goal, when he asked her to be his wife.

They had gotten married six months later in the same church they both had received all their sacraments in. Cara wore the dress of her dreams as she walked down the aisle to the man and the little girl that she loved. During the marriage ceremony the three of them lit a unity candle, symbolizing they were now a family. Nick and Sam had returned the favor and stood beside them as they vowed to love one another all the days of their lives.

The next Christmas, it was Cara’s turn to give Luke and Ava the best unexpected Christmas present, and she did so by telling them she was pregnant. Six months ago the most perfect little boy was born, completing the Lanza family. Hence why Luke was up in arms with making Christmas so special this year, it was their son’s first Christmas.

She opened up a box, hoping she finally found the cord, but instead she pulled out a leather bound journal. She ran her fingers along the spine of the journal before flipping through the pages. She opened the book, settling on one of the first entries…



Dear Cara,

I’ve decided to stop using this journal as an outlet for me during my illness. Today is the first day I will begin to fill the blank pages with letters to you. If I told you everything that was going on in my head, you’d probably beat the crap out of me. I’m too weak and the truth is I’ve seen you fight and you could probably kick my ass even if I was feeling a hundred percent.

All our plans for the future have once again been put on hold due to cancer. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’ll say it anyway. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’re going through this shit storm. I probably should’ve waited until I knew if the chemotherapy had worked for sure, before I asked you to marry me. But I was so sure. I guess that’s what they mean by false hope. All the medical websites I’ve been looking at, there are these testimonials from cancer survivors, and their families. Most of the time, after you’ve received chemotherapy, your life goes back to the way it was before you were diagnosed. They say you feel like you are reclaiming your life, and that’s what I thought too. I wasn’t na?ve to think I would be in remission when the PET scan results came back, but I did think that the chemo had worked a little bit. I know you were just as disappointed as I was when the doctor said it had done nothing but damage some of my organs.

I know that no matter what, even if we had just remained friends, you still would be my side. God allowed me time with the girl of my dreams and even allowed me to call her my fiancé. How could I ever complain?

I’m probably dying. I can say that on paper, but not out loud. The doctors have already told me that they cannot continue treatment with chemo, my body isn’t reacting well. Instead of it killing the cancer the drugs are killing me. The next step is a bone marrow transplant and we’re on the hunt for the donor. Luke and Sam are probably taking bets on which one of them will be the perfect match. I just hope it works. The thought of dying isn’t as scary as the thought of never seeing you again. To never see my sweet Cara, go through all the milestones of life that we have been talking about.

It’s funny the things I told myself I had my whole life to do, and procrastinated doing them, are things now I wish I had done. I want you to know I never thought I’d get married to anyone other than you, even when we were just friends. You used to tell me that you could picture your wedding, but never the man you married. It was the opposite for me. I just pictured you. You’ve been asking me to marry you, not even caring what day of the week it is or if you even have your dress. The dream you had of your wedding, you’re willing to give up. You’re so hell bent on marrying my crazy ass that you’ll marry me in a hospital room. I’m flattered baby. So, fucking flattered. I keep telling you I’m going to get better and when the cancer is gone, you’ll get your wedding.