Despite the fact that she’s only said a few words to me, her eyes begin to get heavy. I take her hand in mine and squeeze so she knows I’m here.
“I brought your groceries and ingredients for soup. I’ll make us both some for lunch.”
She nods slowly and squeezes my hand back, but it’s so gentle it brings tears to my eyes.
She drifts off to sleep, her light snores filling the room, and when her hand goes limp in mine, I stand from the bed and slip away, unable to just sit there and watch her sleep. I’m much better when I’m doing something.
I make quick work of cleaning up everything that’s been abandoned in the kitchen. It’s so unlike her to leave even a glass unwashed, so I know things must be getting bad. I do a lap downstairs, picking up rubbish and making sure that everything is in its right place before putting the flowers I bought in some water and placing them on the coffee table where she can enjoy them.
They’re roses, her favorites, and they smell incredible.
I take a second to breathe them in and to try to relax. But it’s impossible. The countdown clock is ticking, and I fear it’s going faster than I can deal with.
Lowering myself onto the edge of the couch, I drop my head into my hands as tears burn up the back of my throat.
I won’t cry. I won’t. She could come walking down those stairs any moment, and the last thing she needs is me in a state. She needs me strong, to fight beside her, not to break down.
Sucking in some strength, I wipe the few escapee tears from my eyes and push up. I’ve got a job to do, and I need to focus on that, not sit here and dwell on what’s to come.
I’m just about to start chopping vegetables for the soup when my cell pings in my purse. I expect it to be Bailey, so my eyes widen a little at the sight of Corey’s name. His message is simple, but I fear what the message behind the words is.
Thank you.
Is that just a thank you for this morning, or the kind of polite thank you, you say when things are done?
I stare at those two words for the longest time, and they only add to the ache in my heart right now. Yeah, he freaked out this morning, but I wasn’t lying when I told him that it was fine, that I understood. If this is a goodbye, then I’m not afraid to admit that I’m not ready for it. If he’s running because he’s scared I’m getting too close, then he needs to man up.
I want to reply, but I have no idea what to say. I’m not sure anything I write could make this better or change his mind, if he’s even made a decision. I could just be jumping to conclusions. Hell knows, it wouldn’t be the first time.
In the end, I close the message and slide my cell into my back pocket so I can continue cooking.
Thoughts of both my aunt and Corey spin in my head as I potter around. I make the soup as promised, but when there’s no movement from upstairs, I also pull out some of my aunt’s beloved baking equipment and make her favorite lemon slices.
The scent of them baking fills the room, and my stomach rumbles in hunger.
Plating everything up, I carry a tray to her room to see if she’s up for eating.
To my surprise, she’s awake when I round the corner.
“Harlow, that smells delicious,” she says softly. She’s still not as enthusiastic as she normally is, but thankfully, she’s more awake than she was when I first arrived.
She doesn’t make any effort to get out of bed, and I don’t make a big deal about it. I just sit with her and chat. He might be the last thing I want to talk about right now after that weird message, but I tell her all about last night’s date and she swoons over a guy she might never meet, telling me that anyone who goes to that much effort for a single date must be worthy of my time.
I love her enthusiasm and her simple way of thinking. If only reality was that easy.
The sun is beginning to set when I say my goodbyes. I promise to pop in again tomorrow in the hope that she’s feeling better, although something in the pit of my stomach already tells me that she won’t be. This is a downward spiral. The only question is how long it’s going to take to get to the bottom. The doctor might have said weeks to months, but we all know that this disease is unpredictable at best. So all I can do is what he suggested and try to prepare for the worst.
Bailey has already left for her date when I get back, so I order myself some takeout and make myself a rum and Coke in the hope it’ll push away just a little of my worry for a while.
It’s wishful thinking, because when I get into bed later that night, my head is full of concern for my aunt and confusion over Corey.
I have no idea how long I’m there tossing and turning before a noise outside has me fully alert.
Jumping from the bed, I peel the fabric back from the curtain as the doorbell rings through the house. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s late.
I don’t see anyone for a few moments, but then someone stands back and looks right up at me.
Butterflies erupt almost instantly, and I run from the room to let him in.
Chapter Seventeen
Corey
The second Harlow’s taxi turned the corner at the end of the street, I took off in the other direction toward the studio.
I was numb, and the only thing I could
