I don’t hear another word the doctor says. The only thing filling my ears is my blood racing through them, and my pounding heart that sounds like a drum.
I’m going to lose her, too, and then who do I have?
When it’s time to leave, my aunt places her hand on my shoulder. I flinch at the contact, so lost in my own world that I wasn’t even aware the appointment was over.
“Come on, Lo. I think we should go and get cake.”
A sad laugh falls from my lips, but I can’t deny that eating my weight in cake right now sounds appealing.
She slips her hand into mine, and together, with our heads held high and tears in our eyes, we walk toward the car.
I drive us to our favorite place on autopilot, a little cake shop on the Malibu coastline. It’s run by an old English couple, and it’s the quaintest place I’ve ever seen. The homemade cakes are displayed on towering stands and the tables are covered in tartan cloths with small vases of fresh flowers.
My aunt orders us our regular: a pot of English tea for her and a large cappuccino with an extra shot for me, along with two huge slices of cake.
I poke my fork into the soft sponge, not really having the stomach for it now that it’s in front of me. The silence between us is heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable as we both attempt to come to terms with what we’ve just learned.
My uncle always promised that, should anything happen to him, my aunt would be looked after. He certainly pulled through. When I took her to her first appointment all those years ago, I was floored by the hospital she directed me to. It was a million miles from any I’d visited in my past. But sadly, it seems it doesn’t matter how much money you have or how incredible the doctors who treat you are.
Cancer doesn’t care.
It doesn’t give a fuck what kind of person you are and what you can offer to the world. It just shits all over you and wipes you out before your time, leaving your loved ones behind, trying to figure out how to move on.
My lip trembles as I think of my future with no family.
“Everything will be okay, Lo.”
“I know,” I lie. “I’m just going to be alone. You’re my last—” A sob bubbles up my throat, cutting off my words.
“Family isn’t just blood. You’ve got Brooke and her parents.”
“I know, but?—”
“No buts. I’m not going to lie and try to tell you that the world hasn’t handed you a pretty fucked-up few years, but you’ve gone through worse than this and you’ve come out the other sidestronger. It’s time, once again, to move on, to create your own family, and to think about your future.”
At that moment, the song that was playing softly in the background comes to an end, and a male British voice fills the space. I’m immediately taken back to last night when Corey was whispering in my ear. My skin pricks and my cheeks heat.
“Lo?” my aunt asks, not missing my reaction.
Shaking my head, I drag myself back to my miserable here and now instead of the small escape I allowed myself last night.
“It’s nothing,” I mutter, finally lifting a forkful of cake to my lips.
“My dear, anything that makes you blush like that certainly isn’t nothing.”
“Perceptive much?” I grumble, making her laugh. “Brooke dragged me out last night and?—”
“You met someone?” Her hopes rise along with her voice. She’s been desperate for me to put myself out there—almost as desperate as Brooke has been, although I think their reasons might be slightly different.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Really?”
Rolling my eyes at her persistence, I give in, knowing she’s desperate for something to think about other than the appointment we just left.
“There was just a guy I was dancing with. A British guy.”
“Ohhh … a British guy. You know what they say about those?” She winks, and my cheeks flame once again.
