My mom scoffs. “A friend who just so happens to be a billionaire. Oh, and also your boyfriend,apparently?”
I can practically feel the color leach from my cheeks. “What?”
My aunt puts her hands on her hips. “Navarro? As in Hallazgo Pharmaceuticals?” When I stare blankly at her, she rolls her eyes. “Lexi, I work in a hospital,” she reminds me. “Don’t you think I know where we get our drugs from?”
My mom bobs her head in agreement. “All we had to do was Google his name, and you were one of the first results to come up. Along with some other interesting information I’dreallylike some clarity on.” Despite her tone, her expression is calm.Toocalm. The kind of calm that comes right before a storm I’m absolutely not prepared for.
“You know,” my aunt muses, rubbing her chin, “I knew he looked familiar that first day he came here.”
I glance at Gina, surprised by this revelation. The only reason I didn’t panic when she met Damian that day we went shopping in September was because I was certain there was no way for her to know who he is. He never told her his last name, she doesn’t give a single flying fuck about celebrities or public figures, and she’s not on social media where she might stumble across him by accident—simply because she doesn’t like to waste what precious little free time she has doomscrolling.
My aunt must gather where my thought process is going because she lets out a tight, mirthless laugh. “Girl, I might not give two shits about celebrity gossip, but the waiting rooms at the hospital are quiteliterallylittered with magazines. I obviously don’t stop to read them, but I have, on occasion, seen the covers.”
“They have them in the infusion room, too,” my mom points out. “And unlike my sister, I do, on occasion, partake of the gossip.”
I balk, gaping at my mother as if I’ve never seen her before. Since when does she read tabloids?
“But I… I didn’t…”
“Think we’d find out? Christ, Lex, we don’t live under a rock.” Her expression warps then, and her eyes lock on mine with an intensity that seems so at odds with the otherwise frail condition of her body. “Is this how you’ve been getting the money for my treatment?” She exhales an incredulous breath, like she can’t believe she didn’t put it together sooner. “I knew something felt off about the whole charity thing, but I couldn’t fathom why you would lie about it, so I didn’t press the issue. But if you’re getting money from this boy, I’d like to know.Now. And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me about this bet that keeps popping up when I Google your ‘friend.’”
The look on my mom’s face is all it takes for me to crack—the stern scolding in her eyes mixed with a very clear concern. I’ve been holding in so many lies these last three months, I feel ready to explode. So, I do. I let the words erupt out of me like an exponential equation on steroids; they spill over so quickly I can’t rein them in, with no upper limit to how much I seem able to say. And there isn’t one. I tell them everything, even that Damian and I have been sleeping together, though I make it a point to spare them the gruesome details. I tell them about the bet (minus the very public library sex), about the Craigslist ad, about how I exhausted literally every other option before answering it. I tell them about our fake dates and the trip to Guadalajara. “You left the country without telling me?” my mom had shrieked, but it was hard to say if she was more angry or shocked that I did something so obviously out of my comfort zone. Thankfully, the topic of me crossing the border without my immediate family’s awareness was put to rest when I followed it up with the story about Damian’s brother and the resulting situation with his parents. I don’t tell them about what happened in the library on Wednesday, certain that would be a step too far (and something tells me my mom wouldn’t exactly see eye to eye with me regarding my logic on that one), but I do tell them about Damian’s car.Mason’scar. And about what it means to me that he chose to return it.
“We need to pay him back,” my mom mutters in a daze the moment I’ve finally stopped talking. We’ve settled back in the living room. This time, Mom takes a seat next to me on the sofa, while Gina sits ram-rod straight in the armchair, hanging onto our every word. “And you can’t accept any more money from him,” Mom adds with a warning glare at me.
“I won’t agree to that,” I say, as calmly as I can manage. “You need it. That’s why I made the agreement with him in the first place. With respect,fuckyour ‘alternative to continuingtreatment,’” I air-quote when she starts to protest, reminding her what she said when the insurance first pulled their cover for her meds. “That isn’t the solution, Mom. Butthisis. Trust me, if I had another option, I would take it, but I don’t. And I refuse to feel guilty about that. Besides, this arrangement is mutually beneficial. I help Damian with his parents, he pays me, andyouget your prescription.” At my mom’s perturbed expression, I double down. “We need this.Youneed this. I can’t end it. I won’t.”
And Damian still needs this, too. I can’t back out on this agreement, not just because of my mom, but because I can’t do that to him. As much as I need his help, he also needs mine, and despite the way things started between us, I want to give it to him now.
Mom’s face crumples, and for a moment, I think she might cry. “Oh, honey. This shouldn’t be your burden to bear.”
Gina’s face is drawn, and I can tell she wants to agree with my mom, but can’t bring herself to because she knows I’m right. Without this agreement, without this money, Mom never would’ve been able to carry on with her chemo, and if she hadn’t continued her treatment, there’s only one way this would’ve ended.
“But it is,” I tell her, taking her hands in mine. “And I won’t apologize for doing whatever it takes to help you.”
Mom’s gaze turns watery, and she sniffs. “I don’t like feeling like a charity case, Lex.”
“But you aren’t,” I assure her. “Damian doesn’t know about your cancer or what I’m using the money for.” At my mom and aunt’s pointed glances, I explain with an embarrassed grimace, “He thinks I’ve been using the money for cosplay.”
My aunt’s coarse laugh is so loud I’m tempted to cover my ears. “Cosplay?” she sputters, now fully snort-laughing. “As what? The world’s worst liar?”
“Lex, come on,” my mom chides, rolling her eyes at her younger sister. “If he didn’t already know the truth, I think it’s safe to say he does now.”
She gestures to herself, and my heart breaks a little at the realization that she sees what I see. How I wish the mirrors she looks in would lie so she can at least pretend to feel strong.
A lump swells in my throat. “It doesn’t matter.” Except, it does. It matters tome. But I need her to believe it doesn’t, to believe everything will be okay. I need her to believe it as much as I need to convince myself.
My mom’s weak grasp tightens on my hand. “It does,” she insists. “But not because of me, because ofyou. You’re playing a dangerous game, mixing money with emotions this way…” She shakes her head. “It’s only going to end with one or both of you hurt.”
I bristle. “Why would it? Yeah, we’re sleeping together, but we aren’t actually dating. We’re just…friends,” I remind her, even though that doesn’t feel like remotely the right word to describe us. “There aren’t any feelings involved.”
Liar,my conscience growls, but I push its voice down deep, to the dark space in the back of my head where I can’t hear it. In its place, however, I notice another voice, louder and much closer to home.
“Does he know that?” my aunt challenges.
I glare at her across the wooden coffee table. “What?”
She arches a cynical brow. “Girl, I just sat with that boy for two hours talking aboutyou. AndTwilight, of course. But mostly you.” She shakes her head, and I don’t miss the worry in her eyes. The shades of silent disbelief. “I know you struggle sometimes with social cues, Lex, but I can’t help thinking you’re being willfully blind if you can’t see what that means.”
