“It was a serious time in my life.” Leo smiled broadly.
She handed him the photo back. “Why is your relationship with your son strained?”
Leo sighed. “After I divorced his mother … he pretty much divorced me too.”
“That’s tough,” she said softly. She felt the ache behind his words.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Hopefully one day we’ll figure it all out. But until then, I have to keep on living.”
“Understood,” she said, her voice gentle.
As the sun began to set, they packed up the picnic basket. The sun softened as they drove from the coast. The temperature was much cooler now too.
Remi looked over at Leo. “I had a good time today. Thank you for the daycation. It was nice just tobe—without having to feel. Or explain.”
Remi looked down at her hands, resting on her knees. Her wedding ring still on her finger. She hadn’t taken it off. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t know what to replace it with. That ring had become a part of who she was—a wife. Even though he was gone, and even though he’d betrayed her—she was still his wife.
After a moment she continued. “You are one of the few people who understands me. Understands what I lost. What I’m carrying.”
She caught Leo studying her. He seemed to be looking at the soft edges of her profile against the window of his car. “You’ve always been carrying something, Remi,” he said. “I always saw past your polite smile. There has always been a heaviness about you.”
Remi blinked, the weight of his words settling against her chest. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … you give so much to everyone else, Remi. To Gerard. To Zoe. And from what you told me, to Bianca. You seem to have a need to take care of everyone. But you rarely give anything to yourself.”
She was quiet, her lips pressed together. The fact he saw all of that mystified her. She knew it was true, though. She had, in fact, buried her wants behind everyone else’s needs for solong. But now stepping into her own life again felt both thrilling and terrifying.
“You being here—it means more than you probably realize,” she said.
Leo reached for her hand but didn’t take it. He only let his fingers brush against hers.
Remi looked down at their hands. That simple touch sent a wave through her. Not a dramatic wave—just … human. She exhaled, slow and long.
“I think I forgot how to hold myself up, instead of everyone else.”
“You did what you needed to,” Leo said. “That’s not a crime. But now? Now maybe it’s time to live.”
For a long moment neither of them spoke. The sky over Napa was beautiful with twilight approaching—lavender blue with specks of gold where the sun had already started disappearing. He reached for her hand—fully this time. She didn’t flinch, nor retreat. She let her hand rest in his, palm to palm, fingers curled together. Remi allowed herself to feel—not like someone’s wife. Or someone’s mother. Or someone’s anchor—but to just feel like herself.
Chapter Eighteen
Bianca
Bianca’s decision not to return to New Orleans hadn’t come easily. It gnawed at her all night at Remi’s. As much as she wanted to be at Abuelita’s home during this time when she felt so broken, the truth was, she was exhausted. She was tired of pretending to be strong and in control, when clearly she wasn’t. The cancer treatments would cause her to feel weak and vulnerable. The fact that she’d hurt her best friend in the entire world, well, that caused her the most angst.
As much as she wanted Dr. St. James to administer her care and treatment, her body said otherwise and made the call for her. The idea of another flight was more than she could bear.
So she stayed.
Staying meant compromise—going to someone new, someone local, who could continue her treatment plan. Someone she didn’t know, and who knew nothing about her. A stranger who hadn’t known her history, nor what she went through during her first bout with cancer. Dr. St. James promised to coordinate everything, to connect her with a local oncologistin Napa, someone with the same treatment protocol. It made sense medically, but emotionally … not so much. But Bianca, exhausted, let herself say yes.
She couldn’t stay in Napa, not near Remi, who had warned her to stay away. There was so much that remained unresolved between them. There were too many words between them, some spoken in anger, others never said at all. And Bianca didn’t have the strength to hold her own pain while carrying the weight of someone else’s disappointment—not right now.
So she rented a beach house on Bodega Bay, at least an hour away, something modest, tucked above the dunes. It was a place where the ocean could speak for her when she didn’t have the strength to talk. A place far enough from everything to give her room to breathe.
When she arrived there were no grand entrances, no flurry of text messages, just a Lyft from Napa to Bodega Bay. A pair of dark sunglasses barely hid the dark circles beneath her eyes. She touched the keypad on the door, stepped into the house with her suitcase in tow, and looked around the space. The smell of saltwater drifted through the open patio door, the sheer white curtains blowing in the wind to a rhythm of their own. She made her way through the house, taking note of how much thought had gone into bringing the beach inside to this space, and how comfortable it was. The two bedrooms in the back each opened to small decks—perfect for early morning coffee or late-night glasses of wine. She took note of the kitchen. It was small, but open and airy. It would work, and besides, she wasn’t sure how many meals she’d be preparing—maybe a cup of broth here or there, something to help settle her stomach after the chemo. Her treatments would make her feel fatigued and sick most days.
She was thinner, paler. Her signature lipstick was absent, and her hair pulled back into a haphazard knot. After settling in, she placed the teakettle on the stove, made herself a cup of hibiscus tea with honey the way she liked it. She collapsed onto the couch with a quiet sigh. With the television muted, she watched from the large window as the waves crashed against the shore.