"I need to clean up," she reminds me, kissing the tip of my nose and getting off the bed. I smile at her naked backside as she walks into the bathroom.
Being bare with Autumn not only felt amazing, it felt defiant. Sticking it to the man, so to speak.Fuck you, cancer.You can't stop us from living. You can’t stop us from creating a new life.
Perhaps it was an attempt to gain control when we feel we have none in the matter. Maybe it was redemption for the choice we made so long ago. Whatever it is, I know we both feel it. We are throwing a middle finger to the powers that be, the ones who saddled Faith with something strong enough to finally take her down.
Autumn comes back to bed, snuggling into me, and we ride on a euphoric high. It remains in place alongside our reluctant acceptance of Faith's choice. This is our mood for the next few days, until Autumn gets her period.
Chapter 22
Autumn
The only thingmore shocking than the arrival of my period was the disappointment I felt at the sight of the blood.
For a moment I thought that maybe, justmaybe…
It's over now, though. I’ve gotten my period and the universe has given me a clear sign that I am not to be a mother, not yet anyway. I’ve decided to go on birth control until I can figure out my life and plan things in order like a proper adult. Still, a deep ache I never thought I'd have has opened up inside of me.
I want to be a mother.
I want to be Owen’s wife.
I want more time with my mom.
I have more wants than I care to admit.
And I wasn't the only person who was disappointed. Owen's gaze fell down to my kitchen table when I’d told him.
"Is it weird that I feel a little sad?" he’d asked.
"I think it's a testament to how serious we are about each other."
Then he’d pulled me onto his lap and kissed me.
Now I need to addfind a lady doctorto my list. It can go right belowfind a job. At least I have a place to live.
Thankfully, I can push those tasks off for another day. In an hour, we're leaving for Vegas. I'm packed but my mom is not. She went to take a nap, but that was two hours ago. Her naps are becoming more frequent, and when I asked Owen about it, he said that was normal.
Normal for what?
I didn't ask, because I didn't want to know the answer. And because I can guess what he meant.
Using two knuckles, I knock lightly on my mom's bedroom door.
"Come in," she calls.
She's standing in front of her closet, her back to me. Her frame that was already thin is now gaunt. Her robe hangs off her, her peach fuzz hair peeks out of a pretty silk floral wrap I bought her.
"Mom?" I walk to her, peering at her in the mirrored closet door. Stress pulls at her face. "What's wrong?"
She flings an angry arm at her bed.
Dress after dress lie haphazardly on her comforter. A wave of sadness rolls through me. "You don't know what to wear?"
"No." Her voice pricks with frustration. "Because everything falls off me. I don't have a single dress appropriate for a show in Vegas."
I eye the selection on her bed. I don't need to see them on her to know they don't fit. But I do have an idea.
"I'll be right back," I tell her. I go across the hall to my closet and pull it open. I've done some shopping since I came home. Not a lot, but there is one dress that might work. It’s tight and stretchy, meant to hug the curves. I pull it from the hanger and return to my mom's room.
