Mila appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Are you leaving, Mom? Why?”
Bianca looked at Mila, that toboggan still covering her head. “Just for a little while, baby. I need to handle something in Louisiana.”
“You made this big deal about me coming here to spend time with you. I put Dad on hold to come here, and now you’re leaving. That’s so messed up.” Mila stormed from the kitchen in a huff and went back upstairs.
Bianca glanced at Remi. “That went well,” she said sarcastically, but deep down her heart ached. Her daughter’s disappointment made her feel helpless, like she would never be able to fix what was broken between them. It made her feel useless as a mother. What did she have to compare motherhood to, after all? Her own mother hadn’t been there to teach her what it should look like.
“She’ll be okay. I’ll talk to her. Try to pick her brain.”
“It’s an uphill battle with her. But thanks. Maybe you can gain some insight.” Bianca sighed heavily. “And what the hell is up with that toboggan? It’s not even cute.”
Remi laughed, sliding a mug of hot coffee in front of her. “No clue about that one.”
The doctor’s office was able to get Bianca in sooner than expected, and she didn’t waste any time booking a flight back to New Orleans. Leaving felt strange—unsettling—but it was necessary. She needed to meet with Dr. St. James to map out a treatment plan.
She could hardly believe she was facing it all again—chemo, radiation, hormone therapy. The words alone made her chest tighten. She had been cancer-free for so long that the thought of going back to that world was surreal. No, not surreal—a nightmare. She had allowed herself to believe she was in the clear. So confident that it was behind her. But deep down, she always knew that it would return—uninvited, unwarranted, unfreaking welcome!
The first time had been three years ago—right after the divorce. Her body had betrayed her at the exact moment her life was falling apart. Harry had barely moved out before the diagnosis arrived. She remembered sitting in the exam room, still wearing her wedding band, as if it might offer some protection. It hadn’t.
She was determined not to tell Harry, at first. She didn’t want his pity, or him to return just because he felt sorry for her. Bianca had done her best to shield Mila from the worst of it, covering up the nausea, turning hair loss into a game of colorful scarves. But the exhaustion and the toll from the chemo, the fear, all of that was harder to hide, and soon Mila and then Harry became aware of it. However, it was Remi who had been there through it all. Her ride-or-die had helped her through the worst time in her life.
This time felt different, though. Not just because she was older, but because she was alone in a different way. Mila was grown now and pulling away. And Remi, her best friend, her anchor, was a thousand miles away dealing with her grief, while simultaneously chasing her own fresh start. She’d admired her friend, her sister, since the beginning of time. But the fact that Remi had her own stuff made this trip home that much heavier.
She peered out the window as the plane ascended, earbuds in her ears, the California vineyards slowly shrinking beneath her. Napa had felt like a cocoon, an escape from reality. But now, reality was waiting for her in New Orleans. And she’d face it too. It was what she always did. It was who she was, a fighter. And she planned to fight like hell.
Chapter Fourteen
Remi
Remi was at it again. She sat on the floor, her back against the sofa, surrounded by stacks of folders, documents, and Gerard’s laptop, which she’d had Bas break into for her. It was amazing how kids knew how to get past passwords yet couldn’t manage to fold their own clothes and put them away.
Zoe had agreed to drive down to the beach with Bas for a conversation, to hash things out, finally. On one condition: Sage wouldn’t be there. Meanwhile, Mila was tucked away in her room, completely absorbed in the series that had her in a chokehold. She had barely emerged for food or daylight since Bianca left.
Leo had stopped by, making good on his promise of helping her sort through Gerard’s documents. He emerged from the kitchen with two steaming cups of chamomile tea. “Tea break,” he said gently, setting one mug beside her.
Remi glanced up with tired eyes. “Thanks. I’ve been at this for hours and I’m still not through half of it.”
He settled beside her on the floor, stretching his long legs across the hardwood and moving some tax documents out ofthe way. Their shoulders touching. The smell of his cologne trickling across her nose.
“I know things are hard right now, but they’ll get better. Grief doesn’t leave, it just changes. The memories are what will keep you going.”
“How long did it take for you to get some normalcy in your life?”
“’Bout a year before I started carving my own path, one that didn’t include Viv. This is going to sound crazy, but … before that, I held on to this thought … this hope that she might return.”
“I kept thinking the same thing—expecting that Gerard was going to walk through that door and tell me it was all a bad dream. That was, until I received his ashes by courier the other day.” She motioned toward the box resting on the mantel.
“Damn. That’s heavy. How you doing?” His eyes held a genuine, deep concern.
“I’m fine.” She gave him a light smile.
“Once I let that go—realized it wasn’t going to happen—that she wasn’t going to walk through the door … that’s when I was able to move on. It freed me, in a sense.”
Remi grabbed Leo’s hand and rested it on her knee, observed his well-manicured nails.
He had piano fingers. She’d heard her grandmother Lorraine say that about people who had long, skinny fingers. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissed the back of it. “I’m here for as long as you need me, until you get to that place where you can move on.”
“I appreciate that,” she whispered. Her eyes met his. Her palm found his cheek. With a faint smile, she said, “Now, help me finish going through these files.”