“I say we start with chemo and see how that works. After that we’ll try radiation.”
“Okay,” Bianca said softly.
“We’ll schedule a port placement and get your first round of treatment started as early as next week. Will that work for you?”
“Yes, I’ll be here next week to begin treatment.”
“Good. Let’s kick butt.” This time Dr. St. James gave her a smile. One that eased her fears, gave her a little bit of hope.
Walking out of the office, though, Bianca felt detached, like she was watching someone else’s life unfold. She pulled out her phone again and there were no messages from Remi—not a single one. She hadn’t expected to hear from Mila, but she’d thought Remi would’ve replied to her text from last night. Nothing. She started a text to Mila, then stopped. Started one to Remi, deleted it. Instead, she typed:Two weeks, thenI’m back. Save me a glass of wine.She meant for it to be light, but just as she pressed Send, her throat tightened.
That night, Bianca stood on her abuelita’s porch with a glass of red wine she really didn’t want and watched the street become dark. A neighbor’s music played faintly—zydeco. Crickets buzzed in the night air. It was the kind of New Orleans night she remembered and loved growing up. She and Remi would play hopscotch in the middle of the street in the summer until the streetlights came on, and then they would retreat to their separate houses, only to do it all again the next night.
And now, facing the fight of her life for the second time, she told herself she would love again—and this time she wouldn’t take that love for granted. She’d dance again, but to a new rhythm. She’d laugh again, but more heartily. It wasn’t over. She had so much more life to live. She just needed to get through these next few weeks.
Chapter Sixteen
Remi
Remi studied Mila closely, taking in the curve of her eyes, the texture of her hair, the small, familiar mannerisms she’d seen a hundred times before, only this time she was observing them with fresh eyes. She searched for traces of Gerard in the girl—the child she had known since birth and had loved and cherished deeply as her own niece. But now everything was different. The truth had cast a shadow over every memory, every moment, and the thought of it made her stomach turn. Their relationship would inevitably shift. She just didn’t know how.
Her relationship with Bianca would change too—irreparably. As far as Remi was concerned, their friendship was over. She had questions, yes, but once they were answered, there would be nothing left to say to the woman who had betrayed her in the most unforgivable way.
She sat with the weight of it. Years of shared history, of laughter, secrets, sisterhood—now tarnished beyond repair. Betrayal had silently crept in, slowly unraveling the threads of trust.
Remi thought back to the countless nights she and Biancahad spent together like sisters—since they were children. Two girls, very different but drawn together in the chaos of middle school. Bianca, the loud one, the wild one, with flaming red streaks in her hair that drove her abuelita crazy and a laugh that carried across courtyards. Remi had been quieter, bookish, observant, cautious in ways most kids weren’t. But Bianca saw her when others hadn’t.
She remembered the first time Bianca stepped in to defend her. They were twelve years old. A group of girls had cornered Remi in the hallway, teasing her about herproperway of speaking. She had frozen, didn’t know what to say or how to push back. But Bianca had stormed in like a hurricane, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her voice louder than the bullies’.
She’s better than all of you, Bianca had snapped.And if you’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me.
That’s all it took. From that day forward they’d been inseparable. And nobody messed with her ever again.
There were many more times when Bianca had come to her defense. Their families were intertwined. She had loved Bianca’s abuelita, as if she was her own grandmother. And Remi’s grandmother Lorraine had embraced Bianca like family. Remi had confided in her about her fears, her grief, her loneliness after Gerard’s passing. And all the while Bianca had been keepingthisfrom her. It wasn’t just about the betrayal; it was about the deception and the erosion of honesty between them. Remi knew that Bianca was secretive—it was just her way. But this was unacceptable. There was silence where there should have been truth.
Mila shifted in her seat in the chair across the room from Remi. She brushed hair from her face—the part that peeked from beneath her hat, as she flipped through the pages of aCosmopolitanmagazine. She was oblivious to the storm brewing behind Remi’s composed observation of her. How wouldMila handle the truth when she finally learned it? Would she still see Bianca as the mother who raised her? Their relationship was already strained enough. Mila accused her mother of destroying their family. Would Mila also resent Gerard for what he had kept hidden? Would she still consider Harry her father after learning the truth? How would Zoe handle this after all she’d been through with Bas and the baby? Would they all look at Remi and expect her to fix it, as she’d always done? Would she survive this? Would she … would she … would she?
Remi wasn’t sure of anything anymore. But she knew one thing: The truth changed everything. She had purposely ignored Bianca’s calls and text messages. She didn’t want to discuss this by phone. She wanted her in person, where she could see her face; observe her expressions. She needed her back in Napa, and if she didn’t return soon, Remi was willing to fly to New Orleans just to confront her.
She picked up her phone, read Bianca’s text, and then breathed deeply before typing the words:When will you return to Napa? We need to talk.
She stared at the screen after sending the message, her thumb hovering as if waiting to retract it, to pull the words back in and sit with her silence a little longer. But it was done. The message had been sent. Remi hated the way her heart pounded afterward, like she’d opened a door that she wasn’t yet ready to walk through. She wasn’t interested in apologies or explanations via text. This conversation needed eyes, breath, and presence. She needed to see Bianca’s face when she asked her the question that was burning inside her since she found out the truth:How could you?
Not just how Bianca could sleep with Gerard—but how could she sit across from Remi, year after freaking year, pretending like it had never happened. How could she smile at Mila, knowing she had lied and covered up the truth for thechild’s entire life. How complex of a web she had weaved. It was unforgivable.
She then turned to her own daughter, who sat at the island in the kitchen, hunched over a bowl of cereal, slurping it down as if it was her last meal. Remi tossed her phone onto the couch and stared out the window at the vineyard.
Bianca’s reply came quickly:Sounds serious. I’ll call you in a little bit.
Remi responded without hesitation:This is a conversation that needs to be had in person.
She stared at the screen, watching thetyping …bubble appear, disappear, then linger. Was Bianca reading? Thinking? Bracing herself?
Finally, a reply:The girls okay?
Remi typed back:The girls are fine.
Another pause, then:I’ll try to get a flight back tonight, then, if it’s urgent.