Return To You - Leia Stone Page 0,88

hands fisted and propped on her hips, mouth agape.

"It's Owen's fault," Faith says, and I shoot her a dirty look.

She laughs, not a normal laugh, a stoned laugh, and I can’t help but feel my lips curl into a smile.

"It's not really Owen's fault," she explains as Autumn walks closer, her eyes screwed up as she absorbs what she’s just walked in on. "He wrote me a prescription for medical marijuana.”

Autumn sends a shocked look my way. “You what?”

Is marijuana gluten free? Seems like it should be.

"I'm in pain, Autumn," Faith adds, knowing this will help Autumn understand, and my heart aches when I see my girlfriend’s face fall.

"Mom," Autumn whispers, her eyes filling with tears automatically.

"Marzipan," Faith declares.

Did I hear that right? Marzipan? Is this weed laced with something?

Autumn nods, wiping away the moisture stuck in her lower lashes. "Marzipan," she repeats.

I still don't get it, but I don't think I need to. Either I’m stoned as hell or they have a code word.

"Why are you home so soon?" Faith asks Autumn. "Aren't you supposed to be eating dinner with Livvie?"

Autumn settles into a chair across from the couch where Faith and I sit, tucking her feet underneath herself. "She ended up canceling. A situation with her husband."

"Uh oh," Faith says, making a bare-teeth face.

"Actually, I think it was good. She sounded happy when I talked to her."

"That's nice." Faith holds out the joint. "Want some?"

Autumns head jolts back slightly. "Mom? For real?"

Faith shrugs. "Why the hell not? Owen reminded me that I taught you not to give in to peer pressure, but I also taught you to share, so this is me sharing…" She pushes her arm a little further out in Autumn's direction.

Autumn laughs, but it's honestly more like a disbelieving giggle, and it's about the cutest damn thing I've ever heard.

“Why not?” She takes it from Faith and inhales the way I did.

Faith's eyebrows shoot up. "You do that a little too well."

"College," Autumn answers.

Ten minutes later, it's apparent Faith is high. She wants to order pizza, then changes her mind and asks for Chinese food instead. She then asks if Baskin Robbins can deliver a birthday ice cream cake.

It’s not even her birthday.

I get out my phone and call Faith's favorite spot, just glad she has an appetite again. I’ll do anything to get her weight up.

"Egg rolls," Faith calls out, even though I'm only two feet away. "Beef and broccoli. Black bean chicken. Lo Mein."

She keeps calling out dishes and I keep ordering. I pull my credit card from my wallet while Autumn clutches her waist and laughs so hard no sound comes out. I think now I can officially add spending one hundred and fifty dollars on a single order of Chinese food to the list of things I never thought I'd do in my life.

Right after that, I call Baskin Robbins and give them a sob story about Faith and that this ice cream birthday cake is her dying wish. They agree to have it delivered.

Once I’ve ordered all the food, and lectured Faith on pacing herself, I leave her and Autumn talking while I run into the house to use the bathroom. Is it really my fault that at the exact second when I pass by the kitchen, Autumn's phone that had been lying on the counter lights up with a message? I grab it with the intention of taking it to her, but when I glance down, I see it's a text from Jeanne Chapman, the old boss.

Have you given more thought to what we discussed?

My heart flipflops in my chest. There has been a discussion? The woman left a voicemail in Vegas, but clearly now there’s been a discussion.

A knock on the front door startles me and I drop the phone.

Shit.

Picking it up, I toss it on the counter and answer the door. It’s the Chinese food.

I set it on the counter and run to the bathroom like I’d originally intended. On my way back into the kitchen, there is a knock at the door again.

It’s the ice cream birthday cake, with a get-well-soon balloon. Clearly they didn't understand my message that Faith is terminal, but it’s the thought that counts.

I bring all the food to the kitchen, feeling more sober than I wish to be right now.

Reaching up, I pull plates from the cabinet, open boxes of steaming, fragrant food, and get out utensils. All the while, Autumn's phone lies there on the countertop, holding a secret.

I'm not