Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cece checked the clock on the wall for the third time in under a minute, then deliberately looked away from it.
Early mornings in a medical office always felt the same. They were too bright, too quiet, and smelled too much of antiseptic. No matter how nice the building tried to be, there was no disguising that it wasn’t exactly a fun place to be.
This one was no different. Pale walls. Beachy art meant to distract, but the scenes were so generic they failed. Chairs that were comfortable enough to sit in, as long as you weren’t in them too long. It was impossible to forget where she was.
And what she was here for.
Joe sat beside her, one knee angled toward hers, his arm resting along the back of the chair so it barely touched her shoulders. He hadn’t said much since they’d checked in, which she appreciated. He had a good instinct for when she needed conversation and when she didn’t.
There was one other couple in the waiting room, sitting against the far wall. The woman was on her phone, the man was leaning back, eyes closed.
“This is the part I hate,” Cece said quietly, mostly to break the silence.
“The waiting?” he asked.
She nodded. “Once they actually start doing something, I’m fine. It’s the sitting here imagining all the possibilities that gets to me.”
Joe glanced at the door she’d be going through, then back at her. “If it helps, you’re not doing all that imagining alone.”
She smiled at that, small but genuine. “It does help.”
She had dressed with comfort in mind this morning.
Also warmth. These places were always so cold.
She’d picked her softest jeans and a loose top she could pull to the side easily when they needed access to her neck, although they’d probably make her put a gown on anyway.
Flats instead of sandals. Nothing that would bother her.
She’d pulled her hair back so it wouldn’t be in the way.
She’d told herself that being prepared was the best thing she could do.
But could you ever really prepare for a thing like this?
Her name was called, and she felt the familiar shiver of nerves run through her. Joe stood at the same time she did, giving her a gentle smile, as if this were the most natural thing in the world and nothing to be worried about.
“I’ll be right here,” he said, squeezing her hand once before the nurse led her back.
“Thanks,” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry.
The procedure room was cooler than the waiting area.
After Cece traded her top for a gown, the nurse explained what would happen, even though Cece already knew.
There would be a needle. And it would hurt, but it was nothing she hadn’t been through before.
She could do this. It helped that she’d read everything they’d given her. Information was her armor.
Still, as she lay back and felt the paper crinkle beneath her, she focused on her breathing the way she’d learned years ago. Slow in through her nose, steady out through her mouth.
The procedure definitely wasn’t painless, but it wasn’t unbearable. The discomfort was layered with pressure. She had a strange awareness of something being done to her that she couldn’t control.
She kept her eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling and thought about mundane things to take her mind off what was happening. What she might make for dinner, what Peanut was doing, when she would release the first episode of her podcast.
When it was over, relief washed through her, followed by exhaustion she hadn’t expected.
Joe was there when they brought her back out, a small bandage on her neck. He got to his feet immediately, concern written plainly across his face.
“All done?” he asked.
“All done,” she said. Her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “I survived.”
He smiled, but his eyes stayed serious. “Anything else you need to do?”
“No. I’m ready to go home.”
With a nod, he was moving. He got the door for her. He’d driven, because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to afterwards.
Outside, the morning sun felt warmer than it had earlier, like the day had moved on while she wasn’t paying attention.
Joe opened the car door for her, waited until she was settled, then came around and got behind the wheel. He leaned in slightly. “Want to go straight home? Or do you want to stop for coffee and pretend this was just a regular errand?”
Cece thought about it. Then she said, “Coffee. Definitely coffee.”
He nodded. “Good plan.”
As he pulled out of the lot, Cece rested her head back against the seat and let herself feel the simple comfort of not being alone.
They stopped at a small coffee place a few blocks from the clinic, the kind with mismatched chairs and a chalkboard menu that changed slightly every day.
It felt like a hipster hangout, but it was still cute and, at this point, Cece wouldn’t have cared if the décor was themed around the Teletubbies.
Joe went inside while she took a seat at one of the outdoor tables.
After how chilly the doctor’s office had been, the warmth of the late-morning air was a welcome thing.
She rolled her shoulders once, testing how she felt.
Her neck was tender on that side, and she honestly thought she might lay down when she got home.
She felt a little worn out. But also relieved that it was behind her.
She took her phone from her bag and opened the Queen Bees text thread. Her fingers hovered for a moment, then she typed. Procedure’s done. Everything went smoothly. I’ll have more information once results come back.
She added a second line before anyone could ask the inevitable question of how she was. I’m okay. Just tired.
She hit Send and set the phone face-down on the table. It buzzed almost immediately, then again, then again. She didn’t look yet. She wasn’t ready for all the care and concern, mostly because she thought it might make her cry.
Joe came back with two iced lattes and a glazed blueberry scone wrapped in wax paper. “Figured you might want something small,” he said. “Just in case.”
“You figured right.” She smiled up at him and took the cup he handed her, wrapping both hands around it. She was warm enough now that a cold drink sounded good.
She took a sip, then finally flipped her phone over.
Blaise had responded first. Glad to hear it went well. Proud of you.
Essie followed. Thank you for letting us know. Take it easy today. You’re still in my prayers.
Then Maude. You need anything, just let us know.
Paige’s arrived right after that. I’m so glad Joe’s with you. Rest all you need.
Althea’s message came last. One step at a time. That’s all anyone can do. But we’re here if you need us.
Cece swallowed past the tight feeling in her throat. She would not cry. She sent back a simple heart emoji. That felt like enough. They knew she appreciated them.
She took a sip of the iced latte and let the noise of the street wash over her. Cars passed by. Someone laughed at something two tables away. It was a normal day for the rest of the world. She broke off a piece of the scone and ate it, the sweetness making her mouth water.
Joe watched her over the rim of his cup. “You good?”
“Yes,” she said, and meant it. “I really am.”
They sat there for a while without rushing, sharing the scone, talking about odds and ends. About tomorrow, when he was coming over to record his interview. About a new song idea he’d scribbled down earlier that morning. Whether or not they’d walk on the beach later if she felt up to it.
For now, the hardest part of the day was over.
Joe drove her home with the windows cracked, the warm breeze carrying in the smell of salt. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
He didn’t say much, just let her rest. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other close enough to hers that she could reach for it if she wanted. She didn’t, but she liked knowing it was there.
When they pulled into her driveway, he shut off the engine and looked over at her. “You want me to walk you in?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. The fatigue had settled in fast and heavy, the kind that made everything feel slightly out of focus. She chalked it up to the adrenaline leaving her system.
Inside, the house was wonderfully dim and quiet, the curtains half-drawn against the encroaching sun, the air keeping things plenty cool. Cece kicked off her shoes and barely made it to the couch before lowering herself onto it, stretching out with a small, relieved sigh.
Joe pulled the throw off the back and spread it over her. “You need anything?”
“No, I’m—”
Peanut immediately voiced her displeasure from the kitchen, a sharp, insistent meow that carried down the hall.
Cece laughed. “I guess she thought you were talking to her.”
“Sounds that way,” Joe said, smiling. He set his keys down and glanced at Cece. “I’ll take care of her. You rest.”
“I can—” Cece started, then stopped when she realized she truly did not have the energy. “Okay. Thanks.”
Joe went into the kitchen, and Cece closed her eyes. She could hear the snap of a can being opened, followed by the clink of the bowl being set down.
“There you go,” he said softly. “Lunch is served. No need to yell at everyone. Your mom needs her rest.”
Peanut responded with another opinionated meow, followed by the unmistakable sound of eating.
Joe chuckled. “That’s better, huh? Boy, you were hungry.”
Cece smiled faintly, her body sinking deeper into the couch cushions. The low murmur of Joe’s voice drifted toward her, gentle and amusingly tender as he continued talking to Peanut, reassuring her, and maybe himself, that Cece was going to be okay.
By the time he came back to the living room, she was halfway asleep, his presence anchoring her to the safety of home.
She let herself drift the rest of the way, held there by the fatigue of her body, but also by the simple, comforting knowledge that she wasn’t alone.