I shrug. I haven’t gotten that far in my plan, but I figure I’ve made a career of persuading strangers and influencing their behavior, so I should be able to convince the person I love most in this world that life is worth living. I shiver at the thought of life without him. I won’t let it come to that. I can’t.
Becky finishes the last of her beer and signals for another round. “I used to hook up with an oncologist. If he’ll take my call, I can ask him to help.”
I laugh for the first time since Friday night, but I don’t say no. It feels good to feel something that isn’t sadness or anger. “If one of your old ‘swipe rights’ can help save Tommy, I’ll marry the guy for you!”
“I’m pretty sure he was already married,” Becky admits. I shake my head, not wanting to know more details. “And if you’re going to marry anyone, it should be Tommy.”
“You sound just like him.”
Becky smiles. “For a man who hasn’t given up on trying to get you down the aisle after all these years, I’m surprised he’s giving up so easily on this.”
“You and me both.” Adina drops off our second round and I raise my full glass toward Becky before taking a sip. “The irony of it all is that both our mothers are to blame—his for taking the fight out of him, and mine for ruining my idea of marriage.”
“Maybe you can use this to your advantage,” Becky says. I recognize the timbre of her voice, a tell for when she’s about to share what she thinks is a brilliant idea. “Say you’ll marry him if and only if he gets treatment.”
“Tried it.”
Becky slouches back in her chair. “What does he want to do, then? Sit at home and wait to die?”
The word “die” knocks the wind out of me, but I recover with the help of another sip. “Not exactly.”
When Tommy told me how he wants to spend the little time he has left, my heart and my jaw dropped. On one hand, it made sense. Destin is his home; he only moved away from the white sand beaches and emerald-green water to be with me. On the other hand, it can’t be a coincidence that Monica will be there, too. I don’t think they’ve been in touch, but it’s not like I monitor his texts or emails like we do with CeCe.
I look up at Becky’s face, waiting for me to answer. “He wants us all to go back to Destin for the summer,” I tell her. “Until . . .” I can’t finish the sentence.
She nods, twirling a strand of pink hair around her finger in her signature thinking move, probably worrying about how she’ll be able to handle everything going on at work on her own. That was the reason I gave Tommy when I told him we couldn’t go.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “We aren’t going to go.”
“Why not?”
“What do you mean, why not? For starters, if you recall—you and I own an advertising agency that might be losing our biggest client if the new CMO has his way.”
“You can work anywhere as long as there’s Wi-Fi,” Becky says. “And if something big comes up, you can always drive back up for a day or two.”
I shake my head even though she isn’t wrong. I’ve done it before.
When CeCe was in elementary school, she and Tommy would spend most of the summer in Destin, and I’d come down for long weekends as often as I could. The year she was eight, I’d planned a two-week trip down there, the most time I’d ever taken off work. Of course, I ended up having to drive back for a few days because of some big client meeting.
I don’t even remember what the meeting was for, I just remember how I rationalized it—that I had to prove to my boss that I took the job just as seriously as my male counterparts. And of course, I always thought back to the advice my dad gave me before I started my first real job that included paid time off. He told me never to be gone long enough for them to realize they didn’t need me. He was the ultimate businessman and he trained me to think like a businesswoman. Not a woman balancing her