We stop next to her car. The tree she parked under provides some shade but has littered the top of her vehicle with flower petals.
She fiddles with the strap of her purse nervously. “You probably have a million questions.”
“No questions. This isn’t the time. Is there anywhere else you need to go?”
“This is it. I don’t ever plan anything else when I have these appointments. Afterward, I just want to go home.”
“Then let’s go home.” I pause before reaching for the passenger side door of her car. “I guess I do have a question. Will you give me a ride?”
She looks around the parking lot. “How did you get here?”
“It involves a cab driver who was happy to play James Bond and all the cash I had in my wallet.”
And every dollar was worth it to see her smile.
Back at her apartment, I can feel Ariana watching me. Probably waiting for me to start asking questions. Or waiting to see if I make an excuse to leave.
Instead I do what I’ve always done. Make myself at home.
“I’ll make us some tea. That seems to be the thing when you need to relax. You can get comfortable on the couch.” I take off my suit jacket and hang it over a bar stool. Then I roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt so they don’t get in my way.
She drops her bag by the kitchen island.
“Don’t you have to go back to work? Won’t people wonder where you are?”
I shake my head. “I already told Andre that I would be out for the day.”
“He didn’t ask why?”
“I told him my girl was sick. He understands.”
“Your girl?” she challenges, her eyes on mine.
I hold her gaze wanting to make sure she knows just how serious I am. “My girl. My one and only.”
No response to that.
She watches silently while I unearth an electric kettle from one of her cabinets and put the water on to boil. Normally we don’t have to fill every second with chatter, one of the things I love about spending time with her. But this time the silence is awkward.
So awkward.
“You’re making me nervous just watching me like that. Is this the part where you kick me out?”
She shakes her head. “Are you really going to pretend everything is okay?”
“I know it’s not okay. But you’ve had a rough morning. So have I.”
“You just found out I had cancer.”
“Had?”
“Yes. I’m in remission.”
All at once my muscles relax and I feel like I can breathe again. The overwhelming sense of relief is so powerful my legs almost give out and I have to grab on to the counter so I don’t fall.
She’s in remission.
I don’t fool myself that things are fine now. But after spending the last few hours convinced fate had betrayed me, I am grasping on to every last bit of hope like a lifeline.