My stomach churns, my ice cream losing all its appeal. “Layoffs?” I thought with the end of the year we’d made it into the safe zone.
Hayley releases the grass in her hand, a flurry of green blades fluttering on the breeze. “Did you guys hear about Joel?”
The ache in my gut pulses, and Nikki speaks quickly. “Yeah, we know.”
Raj sighs. “Marcus over in his office said it’s a tough break for the poor old guy, but it actually relieved some pressure for their department.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means they won’t need to lay anybody off now. He heard every department had to slash their budgets by a certain percentage this fiscal year. A lot of departments aren’t filling open positions right now. Layoffs could be next.”
Nikki’s eyes dart to me, then she scoffs. “Well, it’s July—new fiscal year—so obviously that was only a rumor.”
He nods. “Right, everybody made it—this time. But if things don’t turn around, the cuts will be even bigger next time, and there will be no way to avoid letting people go.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause. My insides roil with fear and doubt; then Hayley harrumphs. “You know what? Screw it. We can’t control any of it, right?” She’s so breezy about it, and even though a part of me knows she’s right, mostly my chest burns because it’s so easy to blow that fear off when you’re young and healthy. “So what are you two doing for the Fourth?” Hayley doesn’t pause for us to answer—she launches into her own story, which is just as well, because I’m still reeling from all this cryptic news. “I’m heading home to my parents’ house . . . they’re having the whole family over. And my cousin Shelley is going to bring her new boyfriend.”
She wrinkles her nose, and Raj smirks. “I take it you don’t like him?”
“I just can’t wait to see what’s wrong with the poor schmuck.” She rolls her eyes. “My cousin always goes for guys that have some sort of problem she needs to solve. We call her a fixer.”
The knot in my gut tightens. “What?”
Hayley takes a deep breath—she’s relishing her captive audience now. “In high school, Shelley dated the captain of the football team—but only after he broke his femur. Spent his entire senior year on crutches, and she had to help him. No big deal, right? Well, in college, she dates a guy who’s recently been in a horrible car accident. Spends months driving him to and from PT. Last year, she brought her new boyfriend to Christmas, and he seemed ordinary enough . . . then, when they’re leaving, she says they have to stop by to check in with his parole officer. Turns out he’s done time for meth.”
Raj frowns. “So you’re saying she can’t have actual feelings for these people because they have flaws?” I blink at his uncharacteristic criticism of Hayley in all her cute blondeness.
Hayley’s eyes widen. “Oh God, no. It’s not them, it’s her. Like, is she actually genuine, or does she just get a rush out of helping them? Because she always seems to be looking for her next cause, you know?” She shrugs. “Like I said, she’s a fixer.”
Something about the word makes the ice cream threaten to make a reappearance, and I scramble to my feet. “I, uh . . . forgot I have to email a reporter back about an interview next week.” I stride away before any of them can question me.
It’s all too much—people getting let go at the worst times of their lives because they’ve used up their sick leave. People getting let go for no reason at all, with no notice. Dating someone who is sick or injured in order to feel good about themselves.
Inside, my fingers fumble to unlock my office door, and I end up dropping the keys onto the faded brown carpeting. “Dammit.”
“I got it.” Nikki swoops in and saves the day, as best friends do. She unlocks the door and lets me go in first; then she follows me inside and turns to me, arms crossed. We stare at each other for a long time, until finally she speaks. “Fuck them.”
It’s so unexpected, and I’m a bit punch drunk from sugar and sadness, so a laugh blurts out.
“I’m serious, Mone.” She’s smiling, though, as she reaches over to hand me the napkin she’s brought in from outside. “What the hell do they know about a plan for layoffs?”
I wipe at my eyes and nod.
She nods back. “Repeat after me: I, Simone Archer, am going to go home and drink a big ol’ glass of wine, finish packing, and then I’m going to go on a super-fun vacation with my big hot boyfriend and have lots of sex and alcohol.”
I’m shaking with laughter now, but her Nikki look is fierce. “Say it.”
“I mean, that was a lot of words.”
“Say it, Simone.”
“I’m going to do all those things.”
“And I’m not going to worry about what a bunch of jerks say.”
I smile. “And I am not going to worry about what a bunch of jerks say.”
“Okay, then.”
Behind me, a throat clears. I whip around, and Connor is in the doorway. “Oh God,” I say, “you didn’t hear any of that, right?”
A smile twitches at his lips. “No, of course not . . . but I mean, if I did, I would say that Nikki gives excellent advice.”
Heat creeps into my face and across my neck, but Nikki bursts out laughing. Connor winks and walks over, puts his arm around me, and kisses the top of my head. “So,” he says to Nikki, who is finally reining in her laughter, “when are we gonna do a poker night again? I want to beat Claudia this time.”
Nikki snorts. “Um, yeah, good luck with that, buddy. Nobody ever beats her.”
“Damn, I know, I’m a big talker.” He sighs, then turns to face me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything—just wanted to stop by and remind you I’ll be over bright and early Sunday morning to pick you up, okay?”
I nod, and he plants a soft kiss on my lips, then turns back to Nikki. “Seriously, though, game night—let’s make it happen. Even if I lose all my money again.” They high-five and I beam. There’s something about your boyfriend and best friend actually liking each other—being able to double-date—that is so glorious.
He walks out and Nikki turns to me. “You feeling better?”
I answer with an attack hug, hanging on tight, not wanting to let her go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
July 4, five months before
There’s something beautiful about the open prairie stretching before you, all waving fields of gold and rolling hills of green capped by a wispy-clouded blue sky, full of promise. Or maybe it’s because Connor is next to me. Whenever he’s by my side, the sun shines brighter and I feel strong.
I sip the mocha Connor brought me bright and early this Fourth of July morning, basking in the blue sky and sunshine streaming through the passenger window. In a surge of good spirits, I pull out my phone to call my mom and wish her a happy Independence Day. Her voice is filled with surprise—and exhaustion.
“You and Dad up late partying last night?” I joke.
She chuckles, but it’s forced. “Oh, your grandma was up again.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
There’s a pause. “I thought we’d told you. She gets up at night sometimes. Wanders around the house.” Mom sighs. “It’s not so bad this time of year, but in the winter it’s scary . . . you know, if she were to get outside.”
Oh God. My hand goes to my mouth involuntarily. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor sneaking a glance at me, and I meet his eyes and force a smile. “I’m sorry, Mom. Have you . . . have you guys thought any more about finding somewhere permanent for Grandma?” I saw the brochures on the table over Memorial Day—now it makes sense.
“Now, Mone, you don’t need to be worried about this, okay? You’ve got enough on your plate already.” Mom’s voice is stern. “That’s for me and Dad to talk about.”
A surge of frustration hits, and yet I’m the one who’s been sulking, measuring everyone else’s troubles against my own. “Well, I’m here if you need me, Mom. Please let me know if there’s an
ything I can do.” Such an empty phrase, and it leaves me empty, too.
“Okay, hon.” Then Mom’s voice brightens. “Hey, you kids have a great time. Big day, huh? First time meeting Connor’s family?”
She’s trying so hard to gush, to share this moment with me, that I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, pretty exciting.”
“You two are getting serious, aren’t you?” Her voice is still cheerful, but it’s a little forced now. Something else is coming in this line of questioning.
“I guess so,” I say slowly.
“Have you talked about . . . you know, your MS? I mean, does he know about it?”
I scoff. “Of course he knows about it.” Connor glances over again, and I roll my eyes at him.
“Good. But have you talked about the future?” There’s a pause, and she quickly adds, “I just want to make sure you’re thinking about it, honey.”
Only every second of every day. “I am, Mom.” My voice is quieter—there’s an edge to it—and when Connor glances over, I don’t meet his eyes. The truth is, we haven’t had much of a conversation about my illness since he picked me up from the support group meeting that night months ago.
But I still have plenty of summer left, still within the timeline of the plan, so I leave that conversation to future Simone. For now, I’d much rather talk about Star Wars and mint chocolate chip ice cream and Chris Stapleton’s music and everything else we have in common—I want to talk about all the things that normal couples do. I want to pretend that I am normal, that there’s nothing wrong with me—why burst this perfect new bubble of love?
Mom sighs. “We just want the best for you, honey. You know we’re always here for you.”
“I know.” She means well—she didn’t intend to plant the shaky seed of doubt in my gut, but it’s there now, and I take a deep breath, try not to let it sprout. “Thanks, Mom. You guys have a great Fourth, okay?” I force a laugh. “And tell Dad and Emmett to be careful with those fireworks, for crying out loud.”
Connor taps my arm. “I want to talk to Emmett,” he whispers when I look over.
I narrow my eyes in confusion. “Uh, Mom? Is Emmett around? Connor wants to talk to him.”
“Sure, Monie—he’s standing right here. Take care now and have fun. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
I hand the phone to Connor, who takes it with a grin. “Hey, Emmett, what’s up? How’d everything go?”
I lean in, unable to hear my brother but trying to decipher this one-sided conversation. But it involves a lot of “uh-huhs” and “okays” from Connor, so I’m not getting anywhere. “Just remember what I told you,” he says at last. “It’ll all work out.”
I lean back, arms crossed, as Connor ends the call. “So . . . what was that about?”
“Oh, you know. Guy stuff.”
He smirks out the windshield, but when he turns toward me, he sees the look I’m giving him and his smirk vanishes. “Okay, well, I gave him some advice.”
I raise my eyebrows. “About the snowmobile?”
“About Kaley.”
“You did? When?”
“In the garage that night when we were up for Memorial Day.” He gives me a sly smile. “Before you came barging in during guy time.”
I glare at him; then my eyes widen. “Wait. Do you know what happened between them? Why they broke up, I mean?”
He shoots me a puzzled look. “You don’t?”
“No, he hasn’t told any of us.”
I ignore the puff of pride in Connor’s chest and wait for him to speak. “Well, apparently they’d been arguing a lot, and then at a party, she kissed another guy to make him mad.”
“Oh God. Poor guy.”
“Yeah.” Connor looks down, his eyes more pained than I expect them to be. “They broke up that night, but he said he’s been thinking a lot and realizing he’s partly to blame, too—he was spending so much time with gaming and stuff that he didn’t realize she was unhappy.”
“Wow.” I’m sad for my little brother but proud of his maturity, too. “So . . . what was your advice?”
He sighs. “I told him if he still cares about her, he should tell her. No sense holding it in. Sometimes you have to stand up and say how you feel—fight for what you want, even if you end up looking like a fool. But then, you know, back off. All you can do is be honest and hope for the best. If she doesn’t feel the same, then you need to respect that and let her go.”
I blink. “Wow. That’s . . . some pretty extensive advice.”
He shrugs. “I have some experience in that whole area.”
A twinge of jealousy, but mostly pain as I think about someone hurting him. I keep my voice light. “Standing up and fighting for what you want?”
He smiles. “Mostly the ‘looking like a fool’ part.” I reach for his hand, and he squeezes mine. “Ancient history, though. Things turned out the way they were meant to.”
Suddenly nothing else matters.
He’s right. Things have indeed turned out the way they were meant to.
And maybe things will keep turning out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The lake is gorgeous, its rippling waves sparkling in the glow of the sun. The breeze carries the scent of summer—of sunscreen and sweat, charcoal and citronella—and also the laughter and chatter of family as we approach. It reminds me of my childhood, of visiting family in Minnesota, chasing Emmett around the beach, laughing as Dad tried to water-ski like he did in his “glory days.”
The thought is so pleasant it puts me at ease, until I remember it’s not my family gathered in the backyard overlooking the lake. It’s Connor’s family.
It’s a large group of people I have never met, who may not like me at all.
My stomach flip-flops, and I find myself subconsciously (okay, very consciously) slowing as we round the side of the brown wood-stained cabin. We step out into the open, and I blink into the sun, God’s flashlight, my eyes flitting from person to person—this sea of red faces and red cups, brightly colored swimsuits and festive summer decor. Party conversation stops, heads turn toward us, and in this moment of silence, I consider bolting. But Connor squeezes my hand, and an older woman flips her graying brown hair, eyes lighting up. “You made it!”
“Hi, Mom.” He releases my hand to walk forward and hug her. Other people turn and wave, shout a greeting, or walk over to hug him or clap him on the back.
Connor extracts himself from a fierce-looking bear hug from a barrel-chested, middle-aged man with a face reddened either by the sun or some good old-fashioned day drinking—probably a little of both. “Guys, this is Simone.” He grins and motions me over. “Come on over so I can introduce you to everyone.”
Before I can take a step, an excited little shriek belts out across the lawn. “Simone!” A tiny body shoots forward and plows straight into me.
“Ella!” I crouch down so I can return her hug fully, so happy to not only know someone, but that she’s excited to see me. “You remember me?”
She rolls her big blue eyes and brushes her dark hair back off her bronzed shoulder. “Of course I totally remember you.”
I laugh, and so does everyone around us. They’re now watching with approving smiles, and I straighten my shoulders a little more. I stand, and Connor squeezes my hand, leans in. “She’s usually super shy, but she really likes you.” The adoration in his eyes melts away my anxieties.
“Miss Ella’s new favorite word is ‘totally.’” I turn, and a young woman is walking toward us with a dimpled smirk. “She’s, like, totally six going on sixteen.”
“Mo-om,” Ella laments, adding another eye roll.
I chuckle. “Well, I feel pretty special that she remembers me.”
“From the way I understand it, Connor thinks you’re pretty special, too.” I blush and she laughs. “I’m Arielle, by the way—Ella’s mom.”
She pushes her large sunglasses back, brown eyes twinkling as she sticks out her hand. I shake it, feeling
even more at ease. “Very nice to meet you.”
Connor’s mom steps forward, extending her hand as well—then, seemingly thinking better of it, she pulls it back. “Oh, let’s get right to it, shall we?” And she leans forward and wraps her arms around me. I freeze, but only for a moment, then hug her back. She pulls away and beams at me with the same disarming smile as Connor has. “I’m Irene. We are so glad you could make it, Simone.”
The barrel-chested man steps up and puts his arm around her, his thick white hair mussed up, eyes swimmy but full of emotion. I’m pretty sure the buttons on his hawaiian shirt are off. “Now, it’s a party. Somebody get these two a drink.”
Connor clears his throat, leans in. “Not for me, Dad. I’ll just grab a water.”
They stare at each other a split second too long—their expressions reveal nothing, yet something makes me uneasy. I slip my hand into Connor’s as his mom claps her hands. “Well, you heard him, Bert. One water, and . . .” She turns to me. “How about you, dear? Arielle made some sort of . . . oh, an adult lemonade, I guess you could call it. Would you like to try it?”
Arielle raises her eyebrows, smiling expectantly. God, one of those effortlessly pretty and confident women, and suddenly I’m back in middle school and just want her to like me. I smile as the sun beats down on us. “I’d love to.”
Morning rolls into afternoon, the breeze from the lake fluttering my hair as I rest on the cool lawn chair. After surviving the initial get-to-know-you questions—Where are you from? What do you do? How long have you two lovebirds been dating? How did you meet?—somehow I’ve managed to people watch without having to say too much else.
Surely the drink has helped—the sweet, cold liquid sliding easily down my throat on this hot summer day. I look up and Connor is by my side, leaning down to kiss me. “I’m going to walk to the lake and try out Dad’s new Jet Ski. Wanna come?”
I wrinkle my nose before I can help it, and a tinkling laugh rings out. “I know, right?” Arielle plops down next to me and shoos Connor away. “Go do your sporty shit—we’re going to keep drinking and sunning ourselves.”
The Speed of Light Page 16
