Chapter 8
“I know we’re not on speaking terms right now,” Stella said when I picked up the phone two days later, “but what the hell is going on with you and JJ Morris?”
A spike of irritation shot through me. Yesterday, while waiting to board my flight to Minneapolis, I called to explain the situation with her boyfriend’s bandmate, but Stella sent me straight to voicemail. Twice.
“No clue what you’re talking about,” I replied, unfolding my legs and standing up from the couch. Dad was reading a book in the recliner next to me, and I didn’t want him to hear this conversation.
“Bullshit. He posted a photo of you two on Instagram. You’re kissing him on the cheek, and there’s a fucking heart emoji in the caption!”
“Oh no,” I said, my lips curling into a grin as I strode out of the living room. “How scandalous!”
After agreeing to be his fake girlfriend, I helped JJ concoct a plan to convince Layla we were together.
My fear about being a terrible fake girlfriend was unfounded, because as it turned out, there wasn’t much to it.
With no time to stage a public date before Easter, we opted for a direct approach—hard launching our relationship on social media.
We also created some content for him to post during the European leg of the Heartbreakers’ tour: a selfie of us in the canoe, pictures of us holding baby alligators at Gator Central, and a video of us singing along to Queen on the drive back to Miami.
He even went as far as to flip his Claddagh ring around so the heart pointed inward, indicating he was in a relationship.
Since he’d be gone until the end of June, JJ wasn’t concerned about his ex beyond the holiday weekend.
If she was still bothering him by the time he returned, we would reassess the situation.
For JJ’s sake, I hoped our efforts would be enough to convince Layla to move on.
If Stella’s reaction was anything to go by, I’d say we were doing a halfway decent job.
“I’m being serious, Cara,” Stella said as I stepped into my room and closed the door. “Are you two together or something?” She whispered her question like it was salacious.
“What if we are?” I asked, biting back the urge to snap. I knew it was petty to toy with her like this, but after giving me the silent treatment, she deserved it. Also, why did she sound so appalled by the idea of me dating one of her friends?
Stella didn’t reply. Her silence lasted so long, I thought the call dropped.
“Hello?”
Finally, she cleared her throat. “Then I guess I’ll support you.” The bossy attitude had vanished from her voice, and she sounded small. “JJ is obnoxious, but he’s a good guy. Drew might be hard to convince though. You know how protective he is.”
“Don’t worry,” I promised. “It’s not like that.”
And it never would be.
In the aftermath of my day spent with JJ, I had lain awake in my hotel bed, second-guessing my decision to be his pretend girlfriend. We’d had so much fun together, and that made me wonder…
What if I got caught up in our fake relationship and that led to me wanting something more?
I’d never thought about JJ the way I did Oliver before.
Not because he wasn’t attractive, but I’d always been too captivated by the lead singer of the Heartbreakers to pay attention to the other members.
When I considered JJ objectively, I could see us together—he made me laugh like nobody else, and spending time with him was easy.
But dating someone of his celebrity status would be complicated, not to mention JJ made it clear he didn’t have time for a relationship with his career.
Who was I kidding anyway? I shouldn’t be someone’s girlfriend. Not when my health could take a nosedive at any moment.
That night, I made a vow to myself. No matter what happened between me and JJ, I wouldn’t allow myself to fall for him. It would only result in one or both of us getting hurt.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re not actually together,” I explained. The only stipulation I’d given JJ about the whole dating charade was that we couldn’t lie to his bandmates or my family and close friends—they deserved to know the truth. “I posed for that picture to help him deal with a clingy ex.”
“But… You flew down to Miami to see him.”
“No, I went to Florida for myself,” I said, glancing at my bucket list tacked to the corkboard—six down, ten to go. “I wanted to see the Everglades.” Hanging out with JJ had been a bonus. From his refusal to go canoeing to his constant stream of dirty jokes, he’d certainly made the trip memorable.
“Oh.” It was clear from that one syllable I had caught Stella off guard. “Um, okay.”
I changed the subject before she started asking questions I wasn’t in the mood to answer. Maybe, when I was less grumpy, I’d tell her the whole story. “How’s school going?”
“Good. I really like my art history professor, and the workshop I’m taking on street photography is phenomenal,” she told me. “Speaking of school, my next class starts in fifteen minutes, so I should probably get going.”
Wow, had we made it through an entire exchange without yelling at each other? This was progress.
“Sounds good,” I said, reaching an arm behind my head and adjusting my pillow, “but before you do, I need you to promise me something. If Mom asks about our trip to Miami, can you play along?” Despite our recent distance, I wasn’t worried about her answer.
No matter how mad we were, Stella and I always had each other’s backs.
She scoffed like I’d insulted her. “Did you really need to ask?”
* * *
“Hi, Fizzy!” Trixy said as she stepped into Willow’s hospital room. I couldn’t see her expression from my hiding spot in the hall, but Trixy’s greeting must have annoyed Willow because she released a melodramatic groan.
“Nooo, not you too. I abhor that nickname. As a matter of fact, my hatred for it burns so hot I could melt a glacier. Or, like, the entire frozen food section at a grocery store.”
Trixy laughed. “Sorry, but I don’t make the rules. It’s either Fizzy or Tabasco, your choice.”
“Ugh, I suppose Cara told you about—hey, wait a minute. How’d you know that? Did the two of you finally make up?”
“Surprise!” I yelled, bursting inside with a flower bouquet in one hand and a paperback in the other.
Trixy and I had stopped at a local bookstore on the way to the hospital to pick up a copy of Emerald Escapades, the first installment in the long-awaited spin-off to the Scandal Society series. “Hope you haven’t read this yet.”
I set the book on Willow’s bedside table, but she ignored the gift.
“Oh my God, Cara!” She beamed at me, then whipped her head around to confirm she wasn’t hallucinating and that Trixy was in fact present. “You’re both here. Like, together. This is monumental! About time you two idiots buried the hatchet. I was fed up with playing Switzerland.”
Trixy spent the next five minutes regaling Willow with the tale of how I showed up at the Frozen Dip to apologize, embellishing details to make her story as dramatic as possible.
When she claimed the only reason she forgave me was because I saved her from a herd of stampeding reindeer by pushing her out of their path, I figured it was time for a subject change.
It didn’t take much prompting for Willow to launch into one of her famous pediatric ward updates, but once she finished spilling all the juicy hospital gossip, she turned unusually quiet.
I exchanged a worried glanced with Trixy. “Willow, is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she replied, fiddling with the tail of one of the numerous friendship bracelets tied around her wrist. “Just nervous, I guess.”
“About what?”
“I start my final round of chemo next week,” she said with a hesitant smile.
After scooting her armchair closer, Trixy grabbed one of Willow’s hands. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes, definitely. I’m not looking forward to all the nausea and vomiting.
Or the fatigue. But Dr. Mitchell said I’ll be able to go home if everything looks good after my recovery period.
I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.
I think what scares me most is that everything won’t look good, you know? ”
A morose silence engulfed us. We both understood.
No matter how positive your doctor was or how unremarkable lab results looked, there was always a paralyzing fear. That the treatments wouldn’t work. That the cancer would come back. That you only had so much time left.
I’d lived with that fear for so long. Even after being in remission for a year and a half, it always came creeping back whenever I had a screening.
Trixy called it scanxiety, and it was exactly why I had yet to schedule my next appointment.
I was due for one next month, but just the thought of calling Dr. Mitchell’s office was enough to make me gulp down air like I’d never take a deep breath again.
Sometimes it was easier to live in the unknown.
Before my thoughts spiraled into a much darker place, there was a knock at the door. Connie, one of the many nurses who worked on the pediatric floor, swept inside.
“Good morning, Willow,” she said, eyes on the clipboard in her hand.
When she looked up and noticed me and Trixy, she beamed.
The warmth on Connie’s face matched the cartoon suns decorating her scrubs, and I couldn’t resist smiling back.
“Oh, ladies, hello! It’s so good to see you both.
I need to check Willow’s charts and administer her morning pills, but then I’ll get out of your hair so you can enjoy girl time. ”
Connie chatted with the three of us while she worked, and by the time she left, I was feeling significantly less glum. The best nurses always had the ability to turn their patients’ day around, something I’d quickly learned to be thankful for during my stays.