are a few rooms we haven’t Jewished yet,” he tries again.
“That’s not a thing.”
“Let’s make it a thing.” His lips are back on my neck and I tilt my head, encouraging him to keep going.
“I thought those pills were supposed to decrease your libido?”
“They’re supposed to,” he says, working his way to my lips. I pull away from his kiss. As much as I want to pretend that everything is okay, it’s not. “Maybe they’re not working?”
Tommy brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “The pills aren’t going to fix me. If they’re making me feel better, they’re doing their job.” He pulls me into his arms and starts kissing the other side of my neck. “You make me feel better. You’re my medicine.”
He moves from the nape of my neck back to my lips and I’m a hopeless case. “What room should we Jewish first?” I ask.
His lips curve into a smile, and for one brief moment, I’m just a woman in the arms of the man she loves. Until the next time life reminds us otherwise.
Chapter Thirteen
Alexis
The music coming from CeCe’s room is loud enough that I can almost make out the lyrics from behind my own closed door across the hall. I wonder if this would be any easier if we could be sad together instead of alone.
It’s been like this all week. Her postperformance glow faded as soon as we broke the news about our change of summer plans. Even the flowers we’d given her had wilted, like they, too, had caught her sorrow.
I knock softly at first, afraid to bother her.
I’m not sure when this power shift between us happened, but I don’t like it one bit. I’m not the enemy here; cancer is. And she can resent me all she wants for working hard, but one day, she’ll appreciate the fact that I was providing a good example for her. Not to mention a roof over her head.
I knock a little louder. Still no answer. I lift my hand, prepared to knock again, when she opens the door. I start to say something but stop at the sight of her looking so small and helpless, swimming in one of her dad’s old T-shirts. Behind her, I notice that her suitcase is sitting empty on the floor; she doesn’t want to go tomorrow, either.
“What?” CeCe glares at me. The sudden movement causes her thick black glasses to slip down her nose. When she lifts her hand to push them back up, I notice the purple polish has almost chipped off her nails, the edges ragged where she’s apparently started biting them again.
I smile in spite of myself, happy to have one problem I can actually solve.
CECE TAKES THE salon chair next to mine and hands a bottle of polish to the manicurist. I don’t have to look to know that it’s a shade of purple.
It hadn’t been as hard as I thought to convince her that a little pampering would do us both some good. And I’m sure she was as grateful as I was to have a reason to get out of the house.
“Daughter?” the manicurist asks, nodding toward CeCe.
I nod and smile in response, and again, I don’t have to look to know CeCe is scowling. I used to take offense at how much she hated the fact that we look so much alike, but Tommy was almost able to convince me that it wasn’t so much about our looks as it was wanting to establish her own identity, or some other shrink talk.
I glance over at CeCe, admiring her posture. I square my shoulders and sit up a little straighter myself. She looks over and gives me a small smile, an unexpected gift I wish I could tuck in my pocket to save for later.
Afraid to spoil the moment, I rack my brain for a safe topic. School is over and anything acting-related will come back around to the fact that she had to drop out of theater camp. I have a feeling she and Sofia had a falling-out, and I don’t think either of us is ready to talk about whatever is going on between her and Liam. I’m about to make a comment about the weather when her manicurist asks her a question about her favorite subject in school.
There’s something carefree and easy about the way CeCe answers the woman’s question. I close my eyes and relax, half listening to their friendly banter. CeCe is charming, something I’d