“It’s something I want to talk about. I need the details of everything so we can beat this.”
She sighs and leans back in her bed. “Myla, I’m not beating this. I would rather talk about your future and what you’re going to do.”
“Stop saying you’re not going to beat this. Have you gotten a second opinion yet? Sure, you started treatment, but there must be something else we can do, someone else we can talk to. Aren’t there experimental drugs we can try? We need to think outside of the box.”
“I know this is hard for you because you’re just now hearing about it—”
“You’re damn right this is hard for me,” I shout as I stand and push my hand through my hair. “Jesus Christ, Nichole, you should have told me. You had more than enough opportunities to tell me.”
“As you’re going through a divorce? Do you really think you could have handled all of that?” Why does everyone else believe they know what I can and can’t handle?
“The divorce could have been put on hold. All of that could have been put on hold.”
“So you could push him away?” Nichole asks. “Like you’re doing now?”
“No,” I answer, even though I know it’s a lie. “I’m not pushing him away.”
“Uh-huh. So call him, bring him in here.”
“Nichole, stop. This isn’t about him.”
“No, this is about us,” she snaps. “And as much as you might hate to admit it, Ryot is a part of us. He has been for a while. So call him up and ask him to come in here if everything is fine.”
I twist my mouth to the side, and despite it all, I reach for my phone and start to text him, but she stops me and says, “No, call him. I don’t want you sending him any kind of code.”
I roll my eyes and press his name to call him. It rings once before he answers.
“Hey, baby, everything okay?”
Just from hearing his voice, an overwhelming need to cry rockets through me.
Working through a tight throat, I say, “Can you come to Nichole’s room? She wants to talk to you.”
“Of course. Be right there.”
I hang up and smile at Nichole. “He’s coming.”
“Good.” She has a challenging look in her sunken eyes.
“Is this really necessary?”
“It is because I know how you’re feeling right now. You’re going through multiple stages of grief simultaneously, starting with denial and anger. Those two combined are not going to do you any good.”
“Denial? No, I just need the facts, Nichole. And you’re not giving them to me. And anger, well, yeah. My best friend, my . . . my sister has been sick for God knows how long, and I’m just finding out about it. So yeah, I’m angry.”
“You’re just going to be angry with me then? Is that what’s happening? Which, knowing you, will result in pushing people away, curling in on yourself, and not letting anyone in.”
“I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me right now. You’re not even giving me a goddamn second to process this. That’s not fair. You’ve known about this for what did you say? Five weeks? I haven’t. I have the right to be angry, and I have the right to believe that none of this is happening.”
“You do, but not at the expense of your marriage,” Nichole says just as Ryot walks in.
He pauses in the doorway of her room and glances between us. “Uh, would you like me to leave again?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“No,” Nichole says. “I need you to come in here and talk to me.”
“Nichole,” I say with a warning tone, but she completely ignores me.
Ryot—looking as unsure as ever—walks into the room and leans against the wall, keeping a good distance from us both.
“You know, I think he looks hotter. Have you grown more muscles?” Nichole asks.
“Protein bars,” he mumbles, knowing he’s in the crossfire of Nichole and me. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s witnessed such an event, and he’s returning to old behaviors. Say as little as possible.
“Well, I’m sure my dear friend Myla over here has been taking advantage of the hard work of those protein bars, hasn’t she?”
“Nichole, just stop,” I say in an annoyed tone.
“Why?” she asks. “You said everything was fine between you two, so why can’t I ask?”
Ryot glances at me, and I look away because I know he has the truth on the tip of his tongue. The only question is, will he say anything?
“Anyone going to fill me in on how married life is? Any news? I mean, I know he signed the divorce papers, but I know you haven’t, Myla.”
I wince as Ryot’s head snaps toward me. “You haven’t signed them?” he asks.
“It slipped by me,” I say.
“It’s because she still loves you,” Nichole says.
“Nichole,” I snap at her.
“What?” she asks. “Why wouldn’t you tell the man you love that you have an undying affection for him? Isn’t that what love is all about? Unless . . . oh, I see, you’re trying to push him away because you’re scared of abandonment, right?” Her sarcastic tone is starting to really grate on me. “If I leave you, that means he’s the last one left, and you wouldn’t be able to take that kind of heartache, right? You might as well cut ties with him now. Might as well move back here like you planned all along and leave him in California so you don’t have to suffer through the possibility of losing him too.”
“You know what? Fuck you, Nichole,” I say as I start to head toward the exit, but Ryot steps in my way. “Ryot, move.”
“No,” he says in a stern voice. “I’m not going to let you just walk out because you’re not happy about what’s going on.” He lifts my chin so I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “Tell me, were you planning on moving to Chicago this whole time?” My eyes flit away, but he tugs on my chin, bringing me back to him. “Tell me the truth, Myla.”
“I . . . don’t know,” I say as tears well up in my eyes. “Yes, that’s where I was headed, but then everything in Napa happened, and I just . . . I don’t fucking know. Okay?”
“But you still love him,” Nichole says.
“Do you?” he asks, his voice soft. I expect him to be angry and ready to fly off the deep end from what Nichole has been saying. Instead, he’s steady, even-keeled, and I think that’s more nerve-wracking than anything.
I wet my lips and look away again.
“Look at me when you answer,” he says, controlled.
I take a deep breath, and I meet his gaze. “Of course I still love you, Ryot.”
“But are you in love with me?” he asks. It feels like the beeping of the machines quiet, and the hustle around us settles as he waits on an answer.
“Don’t lie to him,” Nichole says from her bed.
I roll my teeth over the corner of my mouth as my heart beats wildly. And because of his grip on my jaw and chin, I can’t look away. All I can rely on are my bubbling emotions as tears cloud my eyes.
“Yes,” I answer. “I’m in love with you.” His shoulders visibly relax as he lets go of my chin. “But that doesn’t mean anything,” I add.