Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cece had smiled when she saw Blaise’s message come through in the Queen Bees group chat. It was good to know her friend was next door again, and even better knowing that Brick’s son was going to be all right.
She let out a quiet breath and lifted her coffee mug, this one emblazoned with World’s Best Grandma, courtesy of Tyler last Christmas. Peanut was stretched out on the back of the sofa, one eye cracked open just enough to make sure she didn’t miss anything.
“Today is going to be a good day,” Cece murmured. It sounded silly, saying it out loud, but she thought a little affirmation couldn’t hurt.
She’d find out this week about her test results, and it felt like she couldn’t think about anything else.
The house was calm. Sunlight slanted through the windows, the aroma of coffee lingered in the air and there was no noise except the ticking of the clock on the wall. It would be easy to sit here for an hour and watch the day go by.
She took another sip of coffee, savoring it, knowing she needed to change and get to the gym. But something about waiting on test results made that feel harder to do today.
Then her phone buzzed. It was Joe.
Just emailed you a link. Theme song for the podcast. Or whatever you want to use it for. No pressure. Just listen and tell me what you think. Be honest. I can take it.
Cece stared at the screen for a second, then laughed softly to herself.
“How did you know I needed a distraction this morning?” Affection crept into her voice. Sometimes, it seemed like Joe had a sixth sense for these kinds of things.
She tapped the link but didn’t hit Play yet. Instead, she hesitated and leaned back in her chair, coffee mug warm in her hands.
A podcast theme. Written for her. For something that had started as an impulsive little idea and was quickly turning into something real. Well, it was real now, wasn’t it? She’d bought the equipment, set it all up, and she had a theme song. And a first guest already planned.
She looked over at Peanut. “Can’t really pretend anymore, can I?”
Peanut’s ears twitched, a sure sign she’d heard Cece, but she still didn’t answer.
“All right,” Cece said, setting the mug down and deciding she wanted to listen to this in her studio instead of on her phone.
She went in, sat in her chair, and fired up her laptop.
While she waited for it to come to life, she reached for her headphones.
Music always sounded better that way and she wanted to give Joe’s effort the best possible chance.
More than anything, she wanted it to be good. When she got the link up, she clicked on it and went to a file-sharing site.
Cece slid the headphones over her ears and adjusted them until the outside world softened and then disappeared. The room went still, the noises from outside muted, the faint hum of the ceiling fan gone.
She pressed Play. “Let’s see what this sounds like.”
The music came in gently. No abrupt opening. Just a few notes on the guitar, warm and clean and open. She didn’t know how else to describe it, but the music sounded like it had room to breathe without feeling empty. Like there wasn’t too much of it, just enough. And it felt warm and welcoming.
Cece closed her eyes and let herself really hear the music.
The melody moved forward with a quiet confidence that she loved. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t trying too hard. It was an invitation of sorts. A second guitar line joined in, subtle with a soft rhythmic pulse underneath that was steady and reassuring.
Her fingers curled around the arm of the chair.
How had he created music that sounded so…hopeful? Not in a na?ve way, either. More like the kind of hope that came from having lived long enough to know better.
It was amazing. And perfect.
Joe hadn’t overdone it. That alone impressed her. She was sure he could have added sweeping orchestration, if he’d wanted. He probably had software to do that, but it was just music that sounded honest. Exactly what she was trying to convey with the podcast.
She opened her eyes to see Peanut had wandered in. Just in case she was missing something.
“This,” Cece murmured to the cat as she tapped her headphones. “Is really good.” As if Peanut might care.
She imagined the words Real Life: Take Two spoken over the opening bars, imagined her own voice with that sound behind it. How could it not sound good?
By the time the last note faded out, Cece was leaning forward slightly, elbows on her knees.
Instead of taking the headphones off, she played it again. Not because she needed to be sure, but because it was so good.
The second listen confirmed what she already knew. It worked perfectly. And more than that, it felt like it fit what she was trying to do. Like it underscored this new chapter of her life and the conversations she wanted to have, all while highlighting the honesty she wanted to share.
She lifted the headphones slowly, a little afraid to break the spell.
Peanut chirped at her.
“You’re right,” Cece said softly, smiling down at her. “He absolutely nailed it.”
She reached for her phone and started typing. I just listened. It’s exactly right. In fact it’s perfect. I don’t know how you did it, but I am very grateful you did. Thank you for doing this.
She hit Send, then sat back and pressed Play again to hear it without the headphones. She rested her hands loosely in her lap as the music filled her studio.
Since the doctor’s appointment, her thoughts had been occupied with worst-case scenarios.
Not today. Today she was moving forward.
Thinking about episodes she wanted to do, how she needed to start planning, what possible guests she could invite, and all the stories that mattered that she was going to get to tell now.
She needed to get the promo up with the music, too.
Which she would do as soon as she got home from the fitness center.
Whatever tomorrow brought, she would survive it because she had work to do. And some of that work included working out.
She sighed. Her workout awaited. She headed to the bedroom.
With the music still echoing pleasantly in her head, Cece changed into her exercise clothes and tied her sneakers on. She no longer felt trapped by whatever medical outcome she was given. She felt capable of fighting.
She would meet her next challenge on her feet, with Joe and her friends standing beside her.
The fitness center was busy when she arrived. Treadmills hummed, weights clanked and thumping music filled in the background. If it could even be called music. It was so very different from what Joe had created for her.
She scanned the big space automatically, to see if she knew anyone there. The sharp, familiar scent of disinfectant layered over aftershave, sweat, and perfume. She wrinkled her nose, thinking that some people really needed to tone it down with the body spray.
That was when she saw Gigi.
Electric purple tank top and matching workout leggings. Hair in a high, poofy ponytail. Laughing with someone at the water station, her arms gesturing like she owned the space. Thankfully, Gigi’s back was to her.
Cece’s instinct was immediate.
Nope.
Without breaking stride, she angled left and slipped into the ladies’ locker room, pushing through the door just as Gigi’s laugh carried over the noise of the equipment.
Cece leaned back against a cool locker for a moment, adjusting her short ponytail and forcing a small smile at her own reflection in the mirror across the way.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “You’re here to work out, not run reconnaissance. Why is she everywhere I am? Is she stalking me?”
But that was the cost of living in a community like this. If you used the amenities, you were going to run into people you knew.
Still, Cece waited until the locker room door swung closed behind another woman before heading back out, timing it so she could merge seamlessly into the flow of people moving toward the treadmills.
She hopped on, set her pace, plugged in her earbuds to listen to music of her own choosing, and focused on the steady rhythm of her feet.
Gigi DeLuca could wait.
Right now, Cece had a workout to do.
She settled into her stride, eyes forward, the numbers on the treadmill blinking away on the dashboard. Her body fell into the familiar rhythm of walking without having to pay attention, which gave her mind plenty of space to wander.
Which, inevitably, took her right back to Gigi DeLuca.
If Gigi found out about the podcast—and of course she would, because Gigi had already found out about the book club—what would she do with that information?
Cece pictured the quick smile, the questions that sounded friendly but were full of ulterior motives.
That seemed to be the way Gigi did everything, the underlying theme of her life being, How can this include me?
Cece could already hear it. Oh, you have a podcast? How wonderful. What’s it about? Said lightly, but with obvious calculation. Followed, sooner or later, by a casual suggestion. You know, I’d be a great guest.
Cece snorted and sped up her pace a tiny bit in an effort to burn off the flicker of irritation she’d just felt.
It wasn’t that she doubted Gigi would be entertaining.
She probably would be. She had a big personality, strong opinions, and undoubtedly some great stories she’d told a thousand times, which she would love to share with a new audience.
But that wasn’t the point. Real Life: Take Two wasn’t meant to be a showcase for whoever spoke the loudest. Or had the biggest hair. It was supposed to be thoughtful. Earnest. Focused on people who had actually done something worthy of being shared.
Cece glanced toward the mirrors lining the far wall, half-expecting to see Gigi again. She was relieved when she didn’t.
Bottom line was the podcast belonged to Cece, so she had the final say in who she interviewed. The guest list was strictly up to her. She didn’t owe anyone a microphone just because they asked nicely. Or thought they were worthy.
By the time she slowed the treadmill and stepped off, Cece was warmed up and ready to hit the machines. She also felt clearer about things than she had minutes earlier.
If Gigi ever did ask, Cece would decide then. Calmly. On her own terms.
But the answer was very probably going to be no.