“What if we can’t recover?” Mila asked softly. “This is so much.”
Remi gently squeezed her hand. “We will, sweetheart. I truly believe that we will. Certainly not today, and maybe not even tomorrow, but we will.”
Mila stared straight ahead, her face still holding on to the pain. Bianca could see she wasn’t ready to let go.
They all clung to Remi’s words.
Zoe rested her head on her mother’s shoulder.
The weight of it all still hung in the balance, but a glimmer of hope hung there too. And for that, Bianca was grateful.
At the house, Bianca made herself a cup of ginger tea and carried it to the sunporch along with her laptop. She needed to decompress after the day’s events. She was fatigued, but not just from the radiation treatment she’d endured a fewdays earlier, from the emotional toll of everything that had transpired. She was exhausted.
She sat on the wicker love seat and gazed into the evening sky, letting herself sink into the cushions. Her body surrendered, but her mind was on a million different things. She tried to make sense of what healing might look like now, and whether it was even a possibility. What would her abuelita think of her now, all wrapped up in this mess? Could those rosary beads and prayers get her through this?
She pulled the laptop into her lap and logged into the Chic Threads inventory system and did some work. She needed a distraction. Fourth of July sales were good with so much traffic in the city for the Essence Festival. April, May and July were her best months, when the city hosted festivals and foot traffic was booming in the French Quarter. She loved being in the mix of it all, meeting people from all over the globe. It was the reason she loved Chic Threads so much—the people. And the joy of making them look and feel good.
Amelia was holding it down for her—running the boutique seamlessly. Bianca was grateful for her. On impulse, she opened a new tab and ordered a gift certificate for an entire afternoon of pampering and tranquility at Amelia’s favorite day spa in the French Quarter. She sent it to her with a simple note: “Thank you for everything.”
She closed the laptop and sipped her ginger tea. Her mind drifted back to the day’s events—Mila shouting at her, calling her out for betraying her best friend. She’d certainly felt as if she’d hit rock bottom.
When she heard the door creak open, she knew who it was.
“So much drama today,” Remi said, cradling the stem of a wineglass, the bottle in her other hand.
“To say the least,” Bianca murmured.
“I think Mila will be okay. She just needs time,” Remi said, taking a seat in the chair opposite Bianca. “None of us knows what tomorrow will bring.”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure how many more tomorrows I really have,” Bianca said, her voice flat. With her gaze fixed, she sipped her tea.
“Let’s just hope you have many more. That the radiation treatment was successful.”
“If not, my options are starting to dwindle.” Bianca shook her head, reality hitting her hard.
Remi took a sip from her wine; her eyes fixed on Bianca. “The Bianca I know wouldn’t let any of this defeat her. She would fight like hell—until there’s no fight left in her.”
“I’m softening, Rem. Tired.” She breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. “I have fought my whole life.”
“Giving up is not an option. That would be too easy.”
Bianca nodded faintly but didn’t speak. The truth was, her will to fight was slowly slipping away.
Finally, she said, “I have a daughter who hates me, a best friend I pushed away, and a disease that’s trying to kill me. What exactly am I fighting for?”
Remi didn’t blink. “All of those things. That’s exactly why you fight.”
Bianca shrugged. Her silence was saying what her voice couldn’t—that she didn’t believe that anymore.
Chapter Thirty-one
Remi
Remi gazed out the window as Zoe, Bas, and Mila sat at the edge of the pool, their feet dangling in the water, soaking up the final days of summer. Soon they’d all be heading back to school.
Sundays were usually easygoing and peaceful, but today she worked. She was busy preparing forJoie’s big tasting event. A notebook lay open on the island in the kitchen as she jotted down some notes. There was still so much to do: prepare the space, select the wines, finalize the menu. She needed to hire caterers. Her marketing team was hard at work designing artwork and promotional materials for distribution. Personal invitations would be mailed to a select number of guests.
The local artist Remi had commissioned to paint the mural in the tasting room had already begun work on the piece and had promised to finish it before the event. Furniture was scheduled to arrive in the coming week, and interviews for staff had already begun.