8
VIENNA
“What did you just say?” Ivy exclaims, her left brow lifting high.
“Can you please be quiet?” I look around the café, which is almost full with customers.
“Vi, you don’t ask me to be quiet just after telling me you want me to be your maid of honor.”
I roll my eyes at her. My over-the-top attitude falls short in comparison to Ivy’s melodramatics.
“I said nothing about a wedding. I said I’m getting a marriage license.”
“Next step is to get ‘married.’” She makes air quotes. “Why are you marrying Zane?”
I squirm under her gaze as she glances at me with those big brown eyes. “I thought you liked him.”
“I liked him enough for you to go on dates and jump into bed with, but you decided to directly march up to the altar. Why?”
“He’s nice. Isn’t he?” I shake out of her grip and push away a strand of hair from my forehead.
“He is. But this is—” She stops whatever she was about to say before her eyes widen. “You’re pregnant!”
“What? No!” I shake my head furiously. “We haven’t even done it yet.” My mouth suddenly dries at the possibility of it happening once we’re living under the same roof.
“Then why the hell are you getting married?”
My insides twist, and for a second, I think of making an excuse to my best friend.
“Don’t even think about lying to me, Vi.” Ivy narrows her eyes at me, leaving me with no other option.
“I’m sick,” I whisper. She rapidly blinks, not saying anything as a confused expression etches on her face. “When I fell the last time, the doctor did an MRI. I’ve got a brain tumor, Ivy.”
“No!” This time when she yells, many customers look our way. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Before I can reply, she asks, “And what does Zane have to do with this?”
“I still don’t have insurance.” My cheeks inflame admitting this to her.
“But you told me last year that you got it.” Ivy’s eyebrows furrow, and there’s no missing the hurt behind the surprise in her gaze.
“I was about to…but then my landlord increased the rent.”
“So, you’re marrying for money?” she asks slowly.
Even though there’s no accusation in her words, I can’t help but feel a bite of humiliation. My arms fall to my sides, and she grabs them.
“You don’t have to do this, Vi. You know my dad will have no problem lending you the money. Let me talk to him.” She’s already grabbing her phone from her pocket, but I stop her.
Vi comes from a well-off family. Her parents aren’t super rich, but they aren’t struggling either. And above all, Mr. and Mrs. Hart are two of the nicest people I know. I’m sure they’d help me if I asked.
“It’s not only that.”
“Then what is it? Tell me.”
How do I tell her that it’s mostly fear? I’m scared of being alone at night. I don’t want someone to find me dead in my apartment days later. I want someone to cry for me, with me, when they think I’m going to leave them forever.
“Hey!” Ivy grips my hand, and I realize there are tears racing down my cheeks.
I turn away from the crowd and whisper, “It’s not only about the money. I can’t explain more.”