“No.” I shake my head emphatically. “I won’t fake a relationship with Felix. That’s going to be a little awkward giventhat I’m carrying his child.” My hand goes to my stomach again, a protective gesture that’s becoming a habit.
“He’d go with you, though,” Sloane says gently, “if you need the moral support.”
Avah snorts. “Which you shouldn’t fu—fudging need when you’re going to be at this wedding with people who are supposed to be your lifelong friends.”
“You guys are my friends now.” I mean it. These women have shown up for me more in the past few months than my high school crowd has in years.
Avah pops a grape into her mouth. “We’re a big improvement, too.”
“Speaking of Felix.” Sloane arches a delicate brow in my direction. “Obviously we’ve established that you don’t hate him like we thought you did.”
“LikeIthought I did.”
“There’s a thin line between love and hate.” Avah looks at me while she’s saying the words, but I don’t think she’s just talking about Felix and me. Something dark flickers across her face before she masks it with a smile.
“Are you going to give us another lecture on how great hate sex is?” Sloane asks with a laugh.
Avah’s smile tightens. “I’ve already told you, I’m not giving that lecture anymore.”
Sloane’s expression shifts to concern. “Everything okay with the elopement plans? There’s still time for a ceremony surrounded by your book club besties instead of some secret self-solemnizing spot.”
“We don’t want any fuss,” Avah insists.
When I first heard about Avah’s plan to elope in Colorado with just her and Jonathan, it had sounded like a dream. After all the stress of wedding planning—seating charts, dealing with vendors, nonstop opinions from anyone with a pulse—running off to say vows on a mountainside seemed like the only saneoption. But now something about it feels off. Avah’s not someone who shies away from attention, and Jonathan’s so focused on his career and reputation, it seems like he’d love an excuse to throw a lavish party. So why the cloak and dagger routine?
“Besides, you know I’m all about the honeymoon, and without wedding expenses, we’re going all out in Bora Bora.” She does a shimmy. “Really, you guys. I couldn’t be happier.”
Except she sounds about as happy as someone about to face a firing squad. The forced cheerfulness in her voice makes my chest constrict. There’s a beat of silence, and I know Sloane must also be registering how odd our friend is acting.
Avah picks up the container of oatmeal cookies she brought along. You wouldn’t guess it to look at her, but Avah’s sweet baking game is wicked good. “What’s new at the bookstore?” she asks as she offers Sloane a cookie. “And how does it feel to have kicked cancer to the curb?”
“Book sales are solid,” Sloane says, studying the cookie she’s holding. “But I haven’t quite kicked it to the curb yet. I’ve got another round of meds coming, but?—”
“Wait.” Avah shakes her head, and I watch the same confusion cross her features that I’m sure is mirrored in mine. “I thought after the stem cell transplant, you were good. Your hair is nearly to your ears now. I mean, I know that’s not a measure of health,” she clarifies quickly, “but?—”
“I’ve qualified for a new drug trial.” Sloane runs a finger through her dark hair, shining in the afternoon sun. “The best part is it’s not like chemo. I’m not supposed to lose my hair with this one.”
Her tone is thoughtful, but strangely at odds with the bright summer sunshine. Where’s a rain cloud when you need it?
“So you’re not…” I swallow hard. “Cancer-free?”
She tries to hide her wince, but isn’t quite successful. “Not yet. One more round of treatment to go, and then I’m onto my survivorship care plan.”
“What do you need?” Avah asks.
“How can we help?” I echo.
Sloane rolls her eyes. “You know Jeremy has everything dialed in.” Her brother, a billionaire tech bro, has been at her side for every step in this cancer journey. He doesn’t seem to want much interaction with the rest of us, which pisses Avah off to no end. She doesn’t like not being in control, and with his seemingly endless contacts in the medical community, plus his deep pockets, Jeremy has been the person Sloane leans on the most.
“I hate your brother,” Avah mutters.
“You barely know him,” Sloane counters with a smile, as usual entertained by the animosity between her brother and her best friend.
Avah wrinkles her nose. “I know enough to hate him.”
Ellie comes back over and offers Sloane a pinecone, as if she can sense the shift in the conversation, the emotion thick around us.
“This is lovely, sweetie. I’m going to put it on my desk where I can look at it every day.” Sloane’s smile is almost wistful. She’s the only one of us, if you count my situation-ship with Felix, who’s not with a guy. As far as I can tell, she didn’t date much before her cancer diagnosis, and not at all since. Although I’d never ask her directly, I wonder if her treatment has affected her ability to conceive, and whether she might want to eventually.
