rubbing circles on my back. The repetitive motion and the weight of his hand help calm me. I don’t want it to, but it does.
“I’m not giving up on this,” I warn him. “I’m going to try to change your mind.”
“I know.” He pulls me closer so I can rest my head on his shoulder. The weight and unfairness of it all settles over me like a fog.
“How did this happen? You look so healthy.”
“Why, thank you,” Tommy says with a smile in his voice, but I don’t let his charm distract me. I need to find the logic in this, but there isn’t any, it doesn’t make sense.
“You don’t even smoke.”
“Twenty percent of people with lung cancer never smoked.”
I sit back up so I can look him in the eye. “Please don’t quote statistics at me.”
“Not even the one where people who tell their spouses they have less than six months to live have a hundred percent chance of getting laid that night?”
“Don’t try to make this a joke, it’s not funny.”
“It’s my cancer, I can joke if I want to,” he teases. “Wasn’t that a Patty Duke song?”
“Lesley Gore,” I correct him. “‘It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.’”
“Please don’t cry anymore,” Tommy says. “I don’t want to remember your face all red and splotchy.”
I elbow his side and he bends forward, making a dreadful sound. I jump up, causing the swing to sway in my wake. I steady it, afraid I accidentally hurt him. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
Tommy’s shoulders start to shake, and my stomach drops to my knees. When I realize he’s laughing, I step back and cross my arms. “I am so mad at you.”
He looks up at me with that smile and those dimples and I realize I love him so much it hurts. I cringe when his laughter turns into another coughing fit.
“What can I do?” I plead.
“You can forgive me,” he says, his voice strained.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” I reach for his hand, and we let ourselves back inside, where Tommy turns off the front porch light and locks the door as if it’s any other night. But it isn’t any other night. This is the night that will forever divide the before and the after.
When tomorrow comes, I’ll find a way to convince him we have to fight this. But tonight, I just want to close my eyes and drown myself in him, to forget everything except us. I want to pull him as close as he can get, until he’s a part of me. The best part of me.
I catch a sob in my throat and he silences me with a kiss. There’s no apology in this one. It’s more urgent, as if he’s already trying to make up for the lifetime of kisses he won’t be here to give or receive. I taste the salt of tears; I’m just not sure if they’re his or they’re mine.
Chapter Six
Alexis
Nothing at the office has changed in the two days I’ve been out, but everything feels different. My eyes keep drifting to the stack of Tommy’s love notes on the corner of my desk. I want to read them all over and over again, memorizing each word.
I should have called in sick for another day, but Tommy seemed desperate for things to feel normal—and my being home, hanging on his every move, is as far from normal as we could get. But being away from him is killing me, because every minute I’m not with him is one less minute we’ll have together.
“What do you think, sugarplum?” Becky asks, using another of her rotating nicknames.
“Sorry, what?” I say.
Becky gives me a look that is full of frustration and concern. I should have known better than to try to pretend everything is okay when it so clearly isn’t. “You, come with me,” she says in a tone normally reserved for whatever poor Tinder guy she’s about to break up with.
Knowing I don’t have a choice, I follow her out of the office we share and through the open space where our employees are trying not to stare. I feel like a kid being led down a hallway to the principal’s office. At least there will be alcohol where she’s taking me.
MOE, OUR FAVORITE bartender at Rí Rá, the Irish pub across the street from our office, waves hello when we walk in. “Early lunch?”