Twenty-nine
Lily
“So, how’s it going with Ethan?” Ebony asks.
“It’s going well, I think,” I say, taking a sip of my cucumber water that Ethan insists I drink. He’s been reading up on what is helpful for patients going through chemo.
“You think?” She wipes her hands on a dish towel and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. “Do you know what I think?” she asks.
I smirk, leaning back against the stool. “No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”
“Damn right, I am,” she says with a chuckle. “I think it’s going really well. Maybe a little too well, even.”
I frown. “What do you mean by that?”
She collects the mixing bowl and a spoon, turns to the sink, and lets the water run over them. “You’re… happier, Lily.”
Tilting my head to the side, I sit for a minute, thinking about it.
Am I happier?
Ethan helps with the kids in the morning; he cleans, cooks, does the laundry, makes sure I’m taking my medication, and that I’m staying hydrated. He accompanies me to my appointments, always ensures I have all my comforts, and he shaved his head in solidarity with me.
Jake is slowly letting him back in. Maddy is eating up her daddy’s attention. And Ollie acts like Ethan is his actual father, following him around like a shadow.
An involuntary smile blooms on my lips, and my cheeks flush from the warmth of love spreading in my chest.
“See?” Ebony winks at me, pointing in my direction with the dishtowel in her hand. “You are happier. Almost as if—”
“We’re married again,” I finish, the words a soft exhale.
She gives me a loving, understanding smile, the kind that only a best friend can provide. “Yeah, something like that. And honestly? I’m happy for you, Lils. And I’m so happy for your kids, too.”
I swallow, a sudden lump of fear and weariness forms in my throat. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Eb.”
Ebony turns off the water, dries her hands, and pulls up a seat beside me. She takes my hand in hers, squeezing it lightly.
“Hey,” she says. “He needs you just as much as you need him. Start with that. And everything else? It’ll fall into place.
Maybe not the way you expect it to, because life never works like that.
But as long as the important pieces connect, the ones that truly matter, it won’t be perfect, but it’ll be enough.
Exactly what you both need to get through this—together. ”
God, it’s getting harder to resist him when he’s sleeping in the room across from me, knowing he’s right there.
And he doesn’t know, but I can always feel him when he checks in on me at night.
There have been so many moments I wanted to beg him to climb into bed with me and hold me.
Ethan has a way of comforting me that gets me out of my own head, out of the constant loop of doubt.
Could I really give him a second chance?
“Mom! Are the cookies ready?” Maddy bursts into the kitchen, skidding to a halt and dramatically bracing herself against the archway frame.
“Auntie Eb just popped them in a few minutes ago, sweet pea. While we wait, do you want to help Sam pick out a movie?”
“Yeah. Ooh, where is Auntie Sam? Auntie Saaam!” Maddy hollers, spinning around on one foot. She barrels right into Sam, who’s just stepping into the kitchen, holding Ollie’s hand.
“Good grief, girl.” Sam chuckles, steadying herself.
“Sorry,” Maddy mutters.
“Hey, Maddie, can you do me a favor and take Ollie into the living room? Maybe get the blankets and pillows ready?” Sam suggests.
“Sure. You’re bringing snacks, right, Mom?” Maddy turns to me, her expression dead serious.
“Of course I am. I’m not a psycho.” I give her a wink, making her grin widen.
Maddy takes Ollie’s hand. “Come on, little brother. Operation Movie Night is a go!”
“I’m picking the movie!” Ollie calls out.
I raise my hand to my chest, rubbing away the annoying phantom pain that seems to make an appearance every time I let fear of my illness creep in.
What if the chemo doesn’t take? If I don’t survive this, will my children be okay? Will Ethan take Ollie as his own? Will Ollie remember me? What about Sam and my parents?
“You good, sis?” Sam asks, her brow furrowed.
I offer a small smile. “Yeah. I’m tired is all.”
She studies me for a beat, before accepting my answer. “Okay. Well, I’ll be back in a sec to help get the rest of the snacks.”
I watch her go, and something heavy settles in my chest, like a weighted blanket I didn’t ask for.
“She seems to be taking this in stride,” Eb says after a beat pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah. I think having Ethan here convinced her he’s got everything taken care of,” I reply, taking another long drink of my water, wishing it were something stronger.
Ebony sighs. “She’s tough, Lil. Sometimes you underestimate her resilience.”
“You didn’t see her fall apart when she first found out I had cancer,” I counter, turning fully to my best friend, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “She’s good at hiding it. And that is what I’m afraid of.”
Ethan
“I’ve gotta hand it to you, man,” Marcus says with a grin. “The buzz cut really suits you.”
A chuckle slips past my lips.
I lean back in the booth we’re sharing at one of the local bars we used to frequent back in the day.
“In all seriousness, though, what you and Jake did for Lily was pretty amazing.”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, we couldn’t let her tackle that all on her own.”
He nods appreciatively, taking a slow sip of his beer. “So, how’s Lily holding up?”
“She seems to be doing okay. Better than me, honestly.” I scoff, the sound tight in my throat as I bring my beer bottle to my lips and take a long swig. The cold liquid is a small comfort.
Marcus nods slowly, his brow furrowed. “Man, I’m sorry. I really wish this wasn’t happening to her. To any of you.”
I nod back, a heavy knot forming in my chest. “Yeah.”
“How does it feel being back with them?” Marcus asks, popping a chip into his mouth with a crunch.
A genuine smile breaks through the gloom. “It feels… freaking fantastic, man.” I take another drink.
Marcus grins. “I got to be honest, I didn’t think she’d let you stay at her house.”
My smile fades as I lower my head, my fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle.
“Yeah, me either. Believe me. But I’m so damn grateful she gave me the chance to stay.
” I look up at Marcus, and my expression softens.
“But God, it kills me to see her so sick, man. It kills me that I can’t hold her like I used to.
To comfort her the way I know she needs me to.
How can I be so close but feel so far?” I shake my head slowly, turning back to my beer, staring into the amber liquid as if it holds all the answers I desperately need.
“Have you talked to her about how you feel?” he asks.
I nod, still not looking at him.
“And?” he probes.
I meet his gaze. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes me. “She didn’t say yes. But she didn’t say no either.”
I hope she realizes that all I want is to be by her side. Forever.
The comforting scent of cookies and popcorn still hangs in the air as I enter the house. I nudge the door shut, then secure it and activate the alarm.
Removing my shoes, I walk further into the house, my steps hushed, and a smile begins to form as I glimpse the living room. A fortress of blankets and pillows is scattered across the floor, illuminated by the soft glow of a night light.
Maddy is curled up beside Sam on the floor, and Ollie is nestled close to Lily on the chaise. My heart clenches at the thought of disturbing them, but Lily always gets cold at night.
I walk over, my steps light, and gently pull the blanket higher, tucking it snugly around them.
I know I shouldn’t kiss her, not when I’m trying so hard to keep my promise to not push her, but I can’t help it.
I lean down, pressing my lips against Ollie’s head, then move to Lily.
My lips brush her forehead, and I let them rest there for a moment, just long enough to feel the warmth of her skin against mine and to breathe in her scent.
Reluctantly, I pull away before the urge to scoop her up and carry her to my bed, to hold her close all night, becomes overwhelming.
My gaze drifts to Maddy, and I place a kiss on her forehead before stepping back.
The living room feels too full, too heavy. I need to breathe.
I retreat into the kitchen, flicking on the small light above the oven, and pull a bottle of water out of the fridge. Twisting the cap off, I toss it onto the counter and take a long, desperate swig.
Suddenly, it’s like a physical weight drops onto my chest, crushing me. A wave of despair so profound it steals my breath away. Tears pour out of my eyes.
I stumble toward the counter, and my hand trembles as I set the bottle down. A quiet sob escapes, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably, unable to bear the weight of these feelings that are powerful enough to bring me to my knees.
My Lily. Why is this happening to her? This wasn’t supposed to be her story. Not her, not us. I gasp, trying to catch my breath, when two hands rest on my back. I don’t need to turn. I know it’s her. My Sunshine.
I glance at her from the side, my vision blurred by tears, and see the unshed tears glistening in her eyes as she takes me in.
I can see it, clearer every day, how much the cancer is slowly taking her away from me. Her skin is so pale now, almost translucent, with dark, bruised shadows beneath her eyes, and she’s lost so much weight that she looks delicate and fragile.
I suck in another shaky breath and turn, pulling her into my arms. We both cry, our tears mingling and soaking into each other’s clothes, in a desperate embrace that feels both like goodbye and clinging to what we still have.
Every feeling of shame, for not being enough, for not seeing, for abandoning her.
Every feeling of loneliness, even with her in my arms, knowing she’s slipping away.
Every feeling of anger at the unfairness.
I hold her closer, as if I can fuse us together. I whisper into her hair, “I love you, Lily. I love you so much. And I will never leave. I promise you, I will never leave.”
Never again.