She shoves me away and gets off the stool. She points at me. “And you can’t tell a soul about this. Not a fucking word to anyone because Callie hasn’t told a soul in my family. She wants to wait until the biopsy results are back.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” I say without thinking.
“I know!”
“How do you know? About any of this? Why did she tell you?”
The microwave beeps. My food is ready but I ignore I because I’m suddenly not hungry. In fact I’m queasy. I don’t know Callie Garrison all that well. I’ve met her in hockey settings and she seems fun and nice, but I know how close the Garrison family is and how this is… well, it’s huge.
“I was watching footage for the doc of her and Uncle Devin and Conner,” Tenley explains. “And I saw the word Oncologist on the calendar in the background.
“So Conner knows?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, she says he didn’t notice it. She didn’t even realize it was on there, but she was impressed I noticed,” Tenley explains.
“You’re like Veronica Mars or something,” I quip. “Whoever marries you will never ever have a hope in hell of cheating.”
She stares. “Why would they want to cheat?”
“No… I don’t mean they would. I…” God I’m an idiot. I shake my head. “Never mind. So what I heard on the phone was you trying to convince her to tell the rest of the family? I mean as soon as that footage comes out everyone will know. Fans dissect shit. Someone will notice the word on the calendar.”
“She’s not worried about that,” Tenley informs me as she gets back on the stool. “She said by the time it airs, everyone will know because it was something or she’ll be fine and it won’t matter.”
I desperately want to google the life expectancy of ovarian cancer but… judging by the outcome with her grandmother, I don’t think it will be good. I sigh. “I’m glad you told me. You shouldn’t carry that around. It’s too much for one person. And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Eat your dinner,” she whispers.
I walk over to the microwave and pull out my dish. I dress the crispy kale with the killer dressing and then slide the warmed chicken on top. I walk back over to the island and stand across from her, next to the sink, pulling a fork and knife from the drawer. I carefully slice my chicken and pop the first bite into my mouth.
“I need to talk about something else. I can’t process this anymore. My heart and my head need a break.” She sniffs. “That smells freaking incredible.”
I slice off a piece of chicken, add some kale to the fork, and hold it out to her. She shakes her head but it’s hesitant. “Come on. I dare you to try it.”
She smirks but then parts her perfect lips. I hold the fork out and she takes what's on it. She chews thoughtfully and then closes her eyes and groans. "Shit, that's amazing."
I nod. “The dressing makes it.”
“It really does.” She swallows and her dainty little hand darts out and grabs a piece of the dressing soaked kale and pops it into her mouth before I can object.
“I don’t share food, Garrison.”
“You started it,” she argues, and as I lift another piece of chicken to my mouth she reaches in, as quick as lightning, and snags a tiny piece of chicken.
“I will stab you with this fork.”
She laughs. I growl in the back of my throat. She jumps off the stool, walks to the fridge, grabs two glasses from the cupboard beside it, pours us two filtered waters, and walks back over, plopping a glass down in front of me. "You should give me another bite. I'm your wife. We're supposed to share everything."
“Take my last name and I’ll give you a bite.”
“What? Fuck no.”
“Then we don’t share everything, do we?”
“We’re not even really married,” she argues.
“Exactly.”
“Jerk.”
