It’sincredible how robust denial can be, if you surrender to it.
“How was your appointment?” Eitan asks, after he kisses me hello.
I buckle my seatbelt. “Fine,” I say, the word tasting of crushed glass. I distract myself by rifling through his CDs and finding the best music to drown my thoughts. Paramore.
“You sure?” He shifts into drive and begins the trek back to the city.
I nod, avoiding looking directly at him, my smile not reaching my eyes.
Eitan lets me get away with it, merely holding my hand while we drive down Sheridan, crawling back to the city in evening rush-hour traffic. The slow drive gives me time to think. I just need some time, I reason. I want to get to the other side of the wedding. Meet Alice Sutherland. Sign on as one of her authors, ideally. Spend more time with Eitan. If Eitan’s reasons for staying are already nebulous, a cancer recurrence could be the cherry on top of theI need to get out of heresundae.
There’s just some things to figure out before I open myself up to that kind of vulnerability.
And, most of all, it’s probably nothing.
I’m so distracted, I don’t catch the incoming call from an unknown number. Since we’re in bumper to bumper traffic, Eitan sees it on the dash and answers.
Carrie’s voice bursts out at full volume. “Hi! I’m looking for Ruby Hirsch?—”
I panic. My hand shoots out to end the call and Carrie’s voice is abruptly cut off.
We’re stuck here, waiting to get on Lake Shore Drive. “Wrong number?” Eitan asks, slightly amused.
Obviously, the wrong number card isn’t going to work. “That was just the, um, nurse I saw.”
“Calling with a test result?” Eitan prods.
I roll my lips between my teeth, nodding. My knee bounces. I look like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.
“Ruby.” Eitan calms my knee with a hand. “I’m not new to this. Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing,” I say, far too quickly. My lie ricochets around the car like a stray bullet. “My oncologist—” My throat closes and I clear it. “Found a weird lymph node. It’s probably nothing.”
Eitan looks at me sideways. “A weird lymph node?”
“Just in my arm pit.”
“Wouldn’t they want to do some tests? Make sure it’s nothing?”
“The radiologist only hadmildsuspicion.”
“You saw a radiologist?” Eitan’s voice is sharper. Hurt leaking through. “Were you planning to tell me?”
“Like I said.” I sit on my hands. “It’s probably nothing.”
“That’s not nothing if you’re getting scans.”
“It’s one lymph node! It’spuffy. It’s fine. I do not have time to get abiopsyone week before the wedding.” Before Penelope connects me to one of the best agents in the publishing industry. Before Eitan can even be sure if I’m worth the trouble of staying.
“Thewedding?” Eitan’s voice is thunder in the car. “What does the wedding have to do with anything?”
“You wouldn’t understand, since you and Josh have been inseparable since birth, but my life was drastically altered by cancer. I don’t—Ican’tdeal with that again.” I take a deep breath. “Things are better for me. I’m making progress on my manuscript,andI even have some leads on an agent.” One lead, but still. “Not to mention, I’ve actually beenincludedthis summer—for a change. And we’re—” My eyes snag on his. “Us,” I say, imbuing the word with all the naive, cursed hope I have for whatever this is between us. “It’s all happening the way I need it to, and I just have to get through the wedding,” I finish, pleased with this attempt at articulation.
Eitan’s eyes narrow. “What does the wedding have to do with your manuscript?” He asks it like he already suspects the answer.
I take a deep breath. If now’s not the time for honesty, I’m not sure when is. “Pen is going to introduce me to her agent at the wedding. If everything” —I wave my hand— “goes well.”
Eitan shakes his head, quiet. We wait in gridlock for the green arrow that will get us onto Lake Shore Drive and out of this traffic.
