Her recurrent breast cancer is taking its emotional toll on all of us.
I can’t lose my mother.
More importantly, Stella cannot lose her grandmother. She’s Stella’s only real, consistent mother-like figure. Rina does what she can, but my baby sister works long shifts as an ICU nurse and has a life of her own. My mother occasionally comes over after school to spend time with Stella—when she’s feeling up to it—and goes riding with her every Saturday morning.
Stella has already lost so much. I cannot bear the thought of her losing more. Her very beloved grandmother.
“That sounds wonderful. Do you have a horse in mind?”
“No,” she says as we pull around the circle that leads to the front of the main house. “She said this fall we could scope some out.” She pauses here as I set my Range Rover in park. “Do you think it’s because she’s sick?”
My daughter is too smart. Too observant.
“I think she knows how much you love riding and wants you to have a horse of your own. I also think she wants to see you have that. To see you riding a horse that is just yours, that you’ll love.”
“But she’ll get better, right? I mean, that’s why they’re giving her chemo and did that surgery?”
My chest pinches, and I reach out, grabbing a strand of Stella’s impossibly long hair, giving it a gentle, playful tug. “I hope so, Bellas. I hope so. She has the best doctors in the world working to make that happen.”
“Like you?”
I grin at that. “I’m a cardiologist, but yeah, like me. Like all your uncles and grandpa too.”
“The new neighbor, Elle… she seems nice.”
Now she wants to talk? When we’re sitting in the damn driveway?
“Uh-huh.”
“I wouldn’t mind if she were my new Roberta. She wants to see my garden and greenhouse.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We know nothing about her.”
She rolls her eyes. “Duh, Dad. That’s why you talk to her instead of glare.”
Nope. Not gonna make that mistake again.
“Whatever,” she continues. “It was just an idea for Mondays and Wednesdays when you work late.”
“I said we’d figure something else out, and we will. The last thing we need is to invite some strange woman into our lives.”
“Yeah, I can see how that would be a horrible thing—”
A knock on her window cuts Stella’s words off, followed by Gulliver jumping up, scratching at it.
“Down, Gulliver,” Layla squeals, struggling to draw the massive dog back from my car. That beast better not have scratched the paint. “Come on, Stella. I have things to tell you. So many things, and we have to do it before dinner because Amelia is already telling me how we have to get home early because ‘Oliver has an early morning at the hospital,’” she mocks her sister’s voice.
All thoughts of Elle clear Stella’s face as she flies out of the car, getting mauled by Gulliver, who’s acting like he hasn’t seen Stella in years, when Oliver only came by this morning to pick him up. Stella rubs at his head and behind his ears, and the dog turns to mush in her hands.
“Girl, Universal was epic,” Layla immediately launches into. “Have you been? Harry Potter world was the coolest, though the plane might have been my favorite part. Have you ever flown on a private jet? You probably have, right? I mean, you’re Stella Fritz. But this is all new to me. And damn, do you think I’ll be Layla Fritz when Amelia actually does marry Oliver? How does that sort of thing work for sisters?”
Stella only shrugs because that’s how she and Layla work. Layla is all energy and boundless enthusiasm, and Stella is the quiet one, more comfortable in the background than front and center. They’re like sisters and best friends and cousins all mixed into one. They also both know what it’s like to grow up without a mother, though Layla unfortunately lost both her parents when she was six, only for Amelia to leave college to come home and take care of her since. They struggled for years to get by, and now Oliver spoils them both rotten.
Hence the private plane to Florida for a weekend at Universal Studios.
“She hasn’t stopped talking,” Oliver muses, coming up beside me, Amelia tucked under his arm, her engagement ring—that started out as fake and is now more of a placeholder—sparkles against the porch lights. “All weekend and it hasn’t stopped since we got home.”
“Maybe they spiked her butterbeer with speed,” I quip, and both of them laugh.
Layla is still going, telling Stella about something I’m not even listening to as she drags her into the house.
“Carter sent a text,” Oliver informs me as the three of us head for the door. “He said Mom isn’t having a great night.”
I nod, thanking him for the heads-up. “Having Grace here probably helps.”
“No doubt,” Rina, my baby sister, says, jogging to catch up to us, her boyfriend, Brecken, by her side. “I think Carter and Grace need to tell Mom they’re having a baby. It’ll mean everything to her to know she has another grandkid on the way.”
Grace is Oliver’s lifelong best friend and extremely close to my family. When her engagement to another guy fell apart, she ended up mistakenly knocking on what she forgot was no longer Oliver’s door. Carter had bought the place from Oliver when Oliver and Amelia bought a house together. Grace and Carter work together as OB-GYNs and then ended up hooking up and accidentally got pregnant. Not that they’re unhappy about it. They’re head over heels for each other.
“And what about you two?” I ask because I’m the asshole and I can. “When can we expect your wedding announcement? Since we’re all about doing things for Mom.”
Brecken flips me off, and Rina just rolls her eyes, nudging her shoulder into me. “I’m in no rush. We’re already living together. Who needs marriage?”
“I do,” Brecken demands just as Oliver and I say, “He does.”
“Whatever,” she grumbles. “That’s not happening now, so you can quit giving Brecken ideas.” Pushing past us, she jogs straight into the house. She hates that question. Well, any question that is about her life or her future or her relationship.
Brecken grins. “I’m going to steal her away to Vegas at some point, get her drunk, and make her marry me.”
“Very romantic,” Oliver deadpans. “You could just try giving her a ring and telling her it’s fake. Worked for me.”
“God, men suck,” Amelia asserts, but she pops up on her tiptoes to kiss Oliver’s cheek. “Good thing you’re hot and kill bugs for us or we’d systematically eliminate you from the planet.” She gives him a wink before running off into the house as well, likely to make sure Layla and Gulliver aren’t causing any trouble, which at least Layla never does. My parents are absolutely insane for their adopted granddaughter.
“Dickwads,” Kaplan, our eldest brother, calls out to us as he comes out the front door, an unlit cigar hanging from his mouth, a glass of what is likely scotch in his hand. He’s flanked by Luca and Carter. Carter approaches to meet us, while Kaplan and Luca stride off to one of the side porches.