Thirty-two
Lily
As I stretch my arms above my head, I hear a satisfying pop in my upper back, releasing the sleepy tension that had settled deep in my bones. I sink into the plush softness of my mattress, blinking away the remnants of sleep as the morning light floods the room.
It has been two days since my last chemo treatment, and for the first time in what seems like forever, I feel decent.
Not great, but definitely better. The gnawing nausea has receded, and the pervasive fatigue is a little less heavy.
A glimmer of hope blooms at the prospect of hearing good news when I see my doctor in a few days.
But for today, I am going to worry less about the what-ifs.
I push the heavy covers aside and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Something small and brightly colored catches my eye on the nightstand. I reach for the cupcake-shaped sticky note, my fingers tracing Ethan’s handwriting.
Morning, Sunshine. Put on your robe. P.S.: It’s on the edge of the bed. Easy for you to reach.
A smile slowly spreads across my lips.
I grab the robe, slip it on, and head to the bathroom. Flipping on the light, I let out a little laugh as I spot another sticky note right in the middle of the mirror.
Take a shower and come down to the kitchen. P.S.: Take your time.
“So bossy,” I mutter with a chuckle as I slide out of my robe and pajamas, the cool air raising goosebumps on my arms, and turn on the water.
The spray hisses as I wait for the water to warm, steam beginning to fill the room.
Stepping beneath the cascade of warmth, I close the curtain and let the steam envelop me like a cozy blanket.
After a refreshing wash, I step out, towel in hand, and face my reflection in the mirror.
A sigh escapes my lips as I take in the changes in my body.
The effects of chemo are evident. A sharp pang of grief twists in my gut.
Pushing back the tears that threaten to spill, I refuse to let myself break down.
Not now. Not when I’m still here, alive and breathing, and still able to be a mother to my kids.
“Stay strong. You can do this,” I whisper to my reflection.
I step out of the bathroom, and the sight before me makes my breath catch. My bed is neatly made, the pillows fluffed, and an outfit laid out.
A sticky note perched atop the chosen clothes catches my eye.
Almost done, Sunshine. I’ll see you downstairs. P.S.: It’s humid out. You won’t need to cover up.
Warmth spreads through me at the thoughtfulness he put into picking out my clothes.
He knows I need comfort, so he has laid out gentle fabrics that won’t irritate my skin.
I slip on the soft wireless bra and purple underwear.
Then I pull the lavender off-the-shoulder shirt over my head and slide the cotton shorts up my legs.
I head out of the room and down the stairs, gripping the railing for balance. My heart flutters with childlike anticipation. It’s a feeling I haven’t had in years, and it carries me all the way to the kitchen.
The aroma of sizzling bacon, hash browns, and coffee fills the air, causing my stomach to rumble in protest. I’m surprised the kids aren’t already down here, drawn like magnets to this deliciousness.
As I approach the counter, my eyes land on the familiar curve of my favorite cupcake-shaped mug beside the Keurig, and another sticky note.
Pour yourself a cup and meet me on the patio.
A small, knowing smile plays on my lips. Doing as I’m told, I reach for my mug and place it under the machine. Once the cup is full, I head out to the patio.
The moment I step out, the warm, humid air smacks me in the face. I turn to see Ethan, looking unfairly handsome even at this early hour, seated at the patio table.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he says. His smile, that crooked, sexy smile I remember so well, widens as he quickly rises. He walks toward me, closing the distance. The scent of his mint aftershave, clean and invigorating, reaches me before he does.
“Morning,” I reply, my voice a little breathier than I intended. “Where are the kids?”
“I asked your parents if they could take them for the day.”
Ah. That explains the silence.
His gaze lingering on my face, he gently takes the coffee cup from my hand. His fingers brush mine, sending a tiny jolt through me. He steps aside, gesturing toward the table.
“You hungry?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
I nod. “A little.”
I follow him to the table, grateful for the chair’s plush cushions. I settle under the umbrella, facing the yard.
“Good. I hope you like what I made,” he says, a hint of pride in his tone. He sets my cup in front of me, then removes the domed cover from my plate.
“Oh, Ethan,” I breathe. “This looks… incredible.” There are crisp slices of bacon, a mound of golden shredded hash browns, a colorful medley of fresh fruit, and fluffy scrambled eggs.
I pluck a thick slice of bacon from the plate and shove it into my mouth. The salt and crunch are pure heaven.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d be able to keep down, so I made sure there was a variety for you to choose from. Just in case.” His eyes soften, full of that quiet concern I’ve come to rely on.
I give him an appreciative smile, my heart swelling. “Thank you, Ethan. Really.”
“You’re very welcome, Lily.”
I take my time, chewing slowly, savoring each bite, acutely aware of the delicate balance within my stomach.
Usually, after a few days, I can handle regular foods, but I’ve learned not to overdo it, or it will send my stomach straight to the toilet, and me with it.
After a few more bites, I reluctantly set my coffee aside, unable to manage another sip.
“Would you like some water?” Ethan asks.
“Yes, please.”
He pours me a glass of cucumber water, the slices floating like jewels, and places it in front of me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my lips brushing the cool rim of the glass.
“You look like you’re having a better day,” he observes, taking a slow sip of his own coffee. “How do you feel?”
I lick my lips, tasting the cucumber. “I feel better. Much better. Thank you, Ethan, for taking care of me. I know it can’t be easy for you, but your support means the world to me. It comforts me knowing that I’m not facing this alone.” I meet his gaze, letting him see the sincerity in my eyes.
His shoulders visibly relax, and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You don’t have to thank me, Lily. I want to be here. To take care of you. To be whatever you need me to be.”
And I know his actions prove that he is telling the truth.
Since he’s been staying with us, I’ve seen the old Ethan.
The man I fell in love with since I was a teenager, the one who could make me laugh until my sides ached and steal my breath with a single look.
The man who took my heart, and who I was proud to let keep it.
“What are your plans for today?” he asks.
“I was thinking about going back to the bakery.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You feel up to it?”
I shrug. “It’s been a while since I’ve been there, and I’d like to check in. Besides, I want to take advantage of this energy while I still have it.”
He stares at me, his eyes unreadable for a moment. Then a smile spreads across his face. “On one condition.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”
“That I go with you.”
I take a slow, deliberate sip of my water, letting the cool liquid soothe my throat. “I think I can handle that.”
“Mama. Mama. Mama.”
My eyelids flutter open, and I stare right into Ollie’s silver eyes, wide with a mischievous glint.
“Hey, baby boy.” My voice is still thick with sleep. I glance around the living room, already dim, the sun having dipped below the horizon. I must’ve fallen asleep in the recliner.
“What time is it?” I mutter, pushing a hand over the silk scarf on my head.
“Time to get up, Mama!” Ollie yelps, clapping his hands together.
Ollie sets something on my lap with a surprising thud, making me oomph.
“Oh. What is—” I glance down, my eyes focusing on a small, red toy truck, one of his favorites. Taped to the back is a sticky note, a purple crayon secured to it with tape. I peel it off, the paper crinkling softly.
The words make me feel light, almost ridiculously hopeful, like a lovesick teenager.
Your VIP pass for a night under the stars. Circle ACCEPT NOW or LATER
I giggle.
Reaching for the crayon, I circle ACCEPT.
Ollie beams, and he snatches the note from me. He hollers, his voice echoing out of the room as he bolts away, “She said yes! She said yes! Mama circled the first word!”
A few seconds later, Ethan rounds the corner of the hall with Ollie in his arms. Ethan grins, and he leans against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on me.
“Yeah?” he asks.
I tuck my lower lip between my teeth. “Yeah,” I concede, a warm flush rising to my cheeks. “What did you have in mind?”
His smile broadens, a slow, deliberate unfolding that makes my stomach do a little flip. “It feels like a drive-in kind of night,” he murmurs, his eyes holding mine, promising something more than just a movie.
And for a moment, the betrayal, the divorce, the cancer... they all… fade. Today, it is just us, and a promise of a memorable night.
And I am all in.
We pull up to the Float-In Movie outdoor theater, the line of cars snaking around the gravel lot.
“God, it’s been years since I’ve been out here,” I murmur, scanning the packed lot.
Ethan’s low chuckle rumbles beside me. “It’s been ten years exactly since you and I were here, Lily.”
I steal a quick look at him, my heart skipping a beat when I notice he’s staring at me.
He looks so damn good tonight in his navy shorts and the white short-sleeved polo that highlights the ink on his arms. His eyes reflect a deep affection, crinkling at the corners as a slow smile spreads across his face, a silent acknowledgment of our cherished past.
I grin. “That’s right. We watched the double feature of—”
“Jaws part one and two,” he finishes.
We both laugh, a shared, joyful sound that feels like coming home.