I felt my eyes bulge. “C-cancer?”
Chapter 16
Chapter
Vivian
* * *
Despite all my bluster, I wanted to go to him, soothe him, but it was clear Lennon and his mom needed to talk. And I definitely needed a moment to work through my emotions. Lola waved her hand toward a short hallway. “The guest room I set up is the second door on the right. The bathroom is a jack and jill, so you’ll find it without a problem. If you need anything to drink or eat, you come get it. I won’t have you hungry, querida.”
I nodded and gathered my suitcase.
Lennon swayed on his feet, his face pale. “How bad, Mom?”
She hesitated for a moment, her eyes meeting mine. “It’s not a good prognosis, but I can beat it.” Her eyes pleaded with me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she wanted her statement to be true or because she didn’t want me to tell Lennon that her doctor had given her a year to live.
I took a shower, then dressed in clothes better suited to the weather. I’d just finished braiding my hair, unable to stand the idea of blowing it dry, when there was a knock on my door.
I opened it and stared up at Lennon. “Mom said to tell you she made dinner. She then practically ran out the door and jumped into my sister’s car.”
I studied him. “How are you doing?”
“I…” His lips completely disappeared into his beard. “Today’s been a lot.”
“Understatement.”
Belladonna appeared at Lennon’s side. She pushed her way forward to nuzzle my leg. I petted her head, and she sighed happily.
“Will you eat with me? I could use a friend.”
I smiled. “Sure.”
We headed to the kitchen, which had Mexican tile countertops and backsplash, along with Saltillo tile floors. The appliances were all stainless. There wasn’t a dish in the undermount sink or a spill on the counters. Clearly, Lola Cruz was like my mother—ruthless when it came to running a household.
Belladonna headed to the far side of the room where a heavy wooden table sat with thick, tall-backed wooden chairs. She picked up a large bone from the corner and flopped on her bed with a soft grunt, eyeing us as she gnawed her treat.
“Mom made her enchiladas, beans, rice, and calabazas. I hope that’s okay.”
My stomach gurgled, responding before my mouth. Cruz’s lips quirked up a little. “Guess so. Tea?”
“Water,” I said. “I can’t drink caffeine this late in the day.”
“You got it. The plates are there.” He pointed next to the stove, where the pots and a large pan waited. “Help yourself.”
I plated my food while Lennon got us drinks. Then he served himself quickly and joined me at the table. He stared down at his plate, and I waited. Even before he asked the question, I was gearing up for the answer.
“How serious is it?” he finally said.
“Serious. But I think she has a better shot than the doctor told her. And that isn’t false hope I’m trying to give you. Your mom has a lot to live for, and that means she has a lot of fight in her. But I won’t lie, Lennon. She’s going to need it.”
“Okay.” He picked up his fork, but instead of taking a bite, he drew designs across his plate. “And you don’t mind being here? It sounds a bit like my mother used emotional arm-twisting.”
I took a bite of enchilada, mainly so I had another minute to form my answer. The flavors hit my tongue, and I moaned. “So good.”
“Yeah, it always is.” He took a bite while I had another.
Once I’d gotten through the first flurry of hunger, I set my fork on my plate and answered his question. “I’m glad to be here—as long as that’s okay with you. I needed a change from UCSF, and Hana’s begged me to visit, so… Yeah, I’m glad to be here.”
