Chapter Twenty-five Remi
Chapter Twenty-five
Remi
The road ahead was blurred as tears trickled down her cheeks.
She blinked them away. She didn’t have time to fall apart.
She glanced over at Zoe in the passenger seat, her face solemn as she stared straight ahead.
The drive to the hospital was quiet. Remi didn’t play any music.
And she was thankful that Zoe didn’t want to talk either.
She didn’t want the noise or conversation to distract her from her thoughts.
When they walked into the cold hospital lobby, she spotted Mila right away—though she almost didn’t recognize her.
Her head was shaved. Her frame, much like her mother’s, leaned against a brick wall, arms crossed tightly over her chest, earbuds in.
She looked exhausted. Remi stood for a moment, just watching her.
Mila looked up, eyes locking with hers. She didn’t smile or wave. She just walked slowly toward her. When they reached one another, she didn’t say anything. Mila opened her arms and hugged Remi tight. Then she hugged Zoe.
Remi touched Mila’s hair. “This is different. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Yes,” she said, almost in a whisper. “It was something I did on a whim. I wanted it gone.”
“I understand, honey,” Remi said. She hoped that Mila was able to heal. “It really brings out your features … your beauty.”
“Thanks, Aunt Remi.”
Remi grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“She’s upstairs,” Mila said, her voice hoarse. “She had a rough night.”
Remi swallowed. “Thank you for texting me.”
Mila gave a slight nod. “She didn’t want me to. Didn’t want anyone to know, but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”
“How bad is it?”
Mila hesitated. “Worse than she lets on. She got an infection from the chemo. And when they ran some tests, the doctors realized the cancer has now moved to her chest wall.”
Fear caught in Remi’s throat as she followed Mila down the long hallway with buffed floors, until they reached the shiny silver elevators. She didn’t say anything—couldn’t. She was stuck in a daze. Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. She wasn’t ready.
Upstairs, nurses moved quietly from room to room. Others gathered and chatted amongst one another at desks while answering phone calls. Remi followed Mila through the corridor until they reached Bianca’s room. Her heart pounded beneath her chest.
Mila pushed the door open. Remi and Zoe followed her inside. Bianca lay curled in the bed, a colorful silk head wrap covering her head, a hospital gown swallowing her small frame. Her eyes were closed. An IV dripped quietly at her side. Machines in the room hummed.
She looked nothing like the vibrant woman Remi once called her best friend.
The beautiful Cuban girl with generous hips and an ample bosom.
The knockout body that Remi had wished was hers.
The girl who was the life of the party. The one who was ready to fight anyone who looked at her wrong or who gave Remi any grief. She had been her protector.
Remi stepped inside, careful not to let the door creak. For a moment she just stood there with her heart heavy.
Then Bianca began to stir. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. When she saw Remi, her expression didn’t change.
“You came.”
Remi’s throat tightened. “Of course I did.”
Bianca blinked slowly, shifting in the bed. “I told Mila not to tell anyone.”
“I know, but she was worried. Don’t blame her.”
Bianca shook her head slowly. “I don’t. But I didn’t think you would come, even if you knew.”
“I didn’t think I would either.” Remi’s voice cracked. “But I’m here.”
Bianca reached for the cup of water beside her bedside, her hand trembling too much to hold it.
Remi crossed the room and caught the cup before it spilled.
She held it to Bianca’s lips. Bianca drank, and when she leaned back against the pillows, her voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Remi. For all of it.”
Remi gently reached for Bianca’s hand. “We don’t have to talk about that right now. Let’s focus on getting you healed and out of here.”
They didn’t say anything else, just held on to each other.
As the sun crept into the window and cast a shadow across Remi’s face, she squinted. She tried to remember where she was. The uncomfortable orange chair in the corner of the room was a quick reminder. She scanned the room, and then looked at Bianca, who was bright-eyed and watching her.
She smiled lightly. “The girls went downstairs to get breakfast.”
Remi straightened up in the chair. “Okay.”
“I’m glad you came, Remi.”
Remi gave a nod and then a slight smile. “How are you doing with all of this? Mentally?”
“I have my affairs in order.”
The words struck Remi like a dart to the chest. She blinked from the pain. It meant that Bianca was thinking she might not get better.
“That’s good,” she said, forcing composure. “Have to make sure your daughter is covered in case something happens.”
“I listened.” Bianca smiled.
Remi remembered those days during Bianca’s first bout with cancer, how she’d practically lectured her on wills, powers of attorney, and life insurance, making sure Mila would be okay.
“They’re letting me go tomorrow,” Bianca said.
“What are the next steps?” Remi asked.
“Surgery is an option, but it’s pretty invasive.” Bianca lifted her bed. “They’re going to try radiation first. But there are no guarantees that they will shrink it. The chest area is difficult.”
“Okay,” Remi took it all in. She was solemn. Seeing Bianca here again felt like déjà vu. “Where are you staying?”
“I’ve been renting a little house in Bodega Bay. It’s kinda secluded. I was there to heal.” She paused. “And to stay out of your way.”
“I would come there and stay with you, but Joie is really taking off and I need to be there to oversee things. Equipment is being delivered in a few days … filtration system is installed next week.”
“Mila will be there to help, at least until I’m done with radiation. She doesn’t go back to school for a few more weeks,” Bianca said. “Then I’m going back to New Orleans.”
Remi turned toward the window, watching an elderly couple slowly shuffle through the hospital’s glass doors.
“Why don’t you come back to the house … in Napa?” she said finally. “Just until … you know … you’re done with radiation, and you’re stronger. Or ready to go back to New Orleans.”
Bianca blinked. “You sure about that, Rem?”
Remi wasn’t sure, not entirely. But she threw caution to the wind. It was something she’d learned from Bianca.
She said it anyway. “I’m sure.”
The words hung in the air like a peace offering of sorts. Though she wasn’t necessarily offering forgiveness or suggesting that she had forgotten what happened between them, it was out there now, irreversible. And good, bad, or somewhere in between, Bianca was coming home with her.
She freshened the sheets and linens in the room that Bianca had occupied before.
A vase of fresh wild irises was placed on the bedside table, their violet petals vibrant like her.
Remi opened the windows, letting the early afternoon breeze flow through, carrying with it the scents from the garden below.
This would be Bianca’s place of healing, and Remi did what she could to make the room comfortable for her.
She made her way downstairs and started a pot of chicken soup on the stove—a single chicken breast, wide egg noodles, chopped onions, celery, and sweet carrots. The aroma slowly filled the kitchen. She brewed a pitcher of lavender iced tea, let it cool, then placed it into the fridge.
When the doorbell rang, it startled her. The girls had gone to pick up Bianca from the hospital and she wasn’t expecting them back so soon, nor anyone else.
Leo stood on her doorstep, holding a bag of green tomatoes in one hand and a bottle of Pinot Grigio in the other.
“For you,” he said, handing over the wine. He lifted the tomatoes with a proud grin. “From my garden.”
“Well, hello.” Remi took the bag and stepped aside for him to come in. “You have a green thumb, I see.”
“I do indeed. I didn’t always have one. Something I picked up after … you know, after Viv was gone.”
Remi nodded.
He flashed a smile full of perfect white teeth. “Thought I’d fry them up for us in a nice lunch … if that’s okay.”
“Be my guest.”
Leo headed straight for the kitchen like he knew his way around. “Smells like something’s already going on in here. What’s in the pot?”
“Chicken noodle soup,” she replied. “For Bianca.”
He paused, turning to face her—wide-eyed. “For Bianca? Okay.”
“A lot has happened since we last spoke,” Remi said. “I found her in the hospital. The cancer’s back.”
“Wow, I didn’t know there was a first round of cancer.”
“Yes. This is her second bout. And now it has spread. The doctors are just managing the pain at this point.”
Leo’s face softened. “I see.”
“Don’t judge me.”
He shook his head gently. “I would never judge you, Remi. I think you’re incredible. And Bianca? She’s lucky to have a friend like you—a real one. Most people wouldn’t do what you’re doing. Choosing friendship over pride.”
“Thank you for that,” she whispered. “Because lately I’ve felt like the stupidest person on earth.”
“On the contrary,” he said, pulling a skillet from the cabinet. “You don’t even know what a rare jewel you are.”
He caught her eyes as he set the pan on the stove, started the fire beneath it. His eyes lingered on her for moment, steady as he poured the oil into the pan and got to work.
Remi rolled up her sleeves and joined him at the counter, pulling out a cutting board and knife. “I’ll slice. You season.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Leo washed the tomatoes in the sink, then handed them to her one by one as he dried them with a paper towel. She worked quietly, slicing each one into thick rounds.
“Cornmeal’s in the second cabinet,” she said, nodding in its direction.
Leo found it easily and poured some into a shallow dish, then added salt and other seasoning. “Got any cayenne pepper?”
“You know I do.” She reached for the spice rack and tossed him the small bottle. “Not too spicy, though.”
He chuckled. “I got you.”
As he prepped the cornmeal, she beat an egg in a bowl beside him, then leaned back and watched him work.
His movements were rhythmic and calm. They cooked together, Leo dipping and dredging tomatoes, Remi dropping them into the hot skillet.
The oil sizzled as the tomatoes browned.
The scent of vibrant seasonings filled the kitchen.
“This takes me back,” she said.
Leo looked over. “To what?”
“Louisiana. My grandmother Lorraine’s house. She used to fry green tomatoes in the summertime. She, too, had a thriving garden. I’d sit at the table and watch her. Music on. Big glass of lavender tea.”
“What music would she play?”
“She loved Dinah Washington. She liked Ella too.” Remi’s eyes were dreamy, like nostalgia was resting behind them.
Leo grabbed his phone, scrolled quickly, and soon Dinah Washington’s sultry voice filled the kitchen.
Remi closed her eyes for a moment. “Yep, that’s it.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder, flipping tomatoes as they browned. She glanced up at him—took in the sight of the man who stood in her kitchen, frying green tomatoes. They talked and laughed.
“You always come through right on time,” she said softly.
Leo looked at her, then reached for a plate from the shelf, lined it with paper towels. “I’m glad I could be here. You heal me too,” he said softly.
She smiled up at him and breathed in his scent. “I’m glad,” she whispered.
He leaned down—slow, hesitant, his tall frame towering over her.
Their lips met in a kiss, so gentle it felt as if they had kissed before.
She closed her eyes. Rational thought told her to pull away, but she didn’t—couldn’t.
His kiss didn’t feel like temptation or wrong. It felt like comfort and stillness.
When he pulled away, his voice cracked as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Rem. I had no right—”
“It’s okay,” she said softly, her fingers still brushing his cheek. “It’s okay.”
She let her hand linger for just a moment longer before gently pulling it away. They stood in silence for a moment. Remi leaned back, breathed in slowly. She could still feel the touch of his lips on hers. His presence beside her grounded her like she hadn’t felt in weeks.
“You just caught me off guard,” she said finally. Her voice was calm, but with an edge of truth.
Leo nodded and chuckled nervously. “I caught myself off guard.”
She sighed. “This … whatever this is—we should tread carefully. There’s a lot going on in my life right now.”
“I know,” he replied. “And I’m not trying to complicate anything for you.”
“It already is,” she said softly. “You’re Vivian’s. And Gerard—he’s only been gone …”
“I was Vivian’s. And in some ways, I always will be,” Leo said, choosing his words carefully, “but that part of my life ended long ago. And Gerard … he was your husband. I would never try to take his place.”
Remi looked at him. She saw the pain behind his eyes—the patience in his voice.
“I don’t need anyone to take his place,” she said with a steady voice. “But maybe I need someone who understands what it’s like to lose everything and still wake up the next day.”
Leo nodded. “Then maybe we just be that—for now—two people helping each other breathe again.”
Remi let out a deep breath. “Okay,” she whispered.
They stood at the stove in stillness—as two people with wounded hearts, and tentative hope, wrapped in shared grief and something new that neither of them recognized. They dared not give it a name.
“I don’t want to be another thing you carry,” he said. “If there’s a space for me, I want it to be one you choose—not one you feel obligated to fill. I’m your friend. Your confidant. Your peace.”
Remi’s throat tightened. The air between them was full of unspoken things.
And even after he was gone—after they’d eaten green tomatoes in her kitchen and sipped white wine—Leo’s kiss lingered in her mind.
It wasn’t just the kiss itself, soft and unexpected, but everything it carried with it: comfort, curiosity, the quiet promise of something new—though she had no idea what that something new was.
She touched her lips absent-mindedly, as if trying to hold onto it a moment longer.
It had been so long since someone had looked at her—really seen her and taken her needs into consideration.
And that made her chest ache in the most dangerous way.