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"Everything is fine," I force a smile.
"So," Karissa links her arm with mine and drags me away from Wilder. "How is chemo going?"
"What?"
"Wilder told me," Karissa lays her head on my shoulder. "He said your dying wish was to have dinner with him at the country club. And since you've been in love with him since kindergarten, how could I say no when he asked me to get you a reservation?"
My jaw clenches as Wilder hides a laugh behind his hand. I can't believe he would stoop so low. But if Wilder can have fun with this, then so can I.
"I was devastated," I inhale sharply, "when I found out that I was sick. I mean, I had just told Wilder how I really felt about him. It took me so long to work up the nerve to tell him that I wanted him for more than," I lower my voice to a whisper, "Wild Cox."
Under the parking lot lights, I see Wilder's mouth drop open.
"When they told me it was terminal," I wipe away a fake tear, "he made love to me, and it was the most beautiful experience of my life. He was so gentle and kind. After we were done, he cried."
Wilder gasps. "I did not."
"Shh," I hold a finger up to my lips as Karissa rubs a comforting hand on my back. "It's okay. This is a safe space."
"I didn't fucking cry," Wilder defends himself.
I nod to Karissa and mouth, he did.
"I shouldn't say anymore. I don't want to embarrass him."
"Of course, not," Karissa sighs.
"Now that I only have weeks to live, I just wanted to enjoy a quiet dinner with my first and only love before I'm bedridden," I swallow hard, wiping away another fake tear.
"True love," Karissa corrects. "He's your true love."
"Yes, my true love." There's a beat before I continue. "You'll take good care of him, right?" I ask Karissa as I grip her hand in mine. "When I die, you'll make sure he's taken care of, right?"
"I'll... I'll try." Huh. She sounds uncertain.
"It would mean—"
"Blondie," Wilder snaps and opens the driver's side door, motioning for me to wrap it up. He always ruins everything.
When I reach him, he puts his arm out, blocking me from getting in. "What was that?"
"You're a despicable human being," I whisper as I give him a horrified glare. "I can't believe you would lie to her about something like that. There are actual people in the world who are going through a terminal illness diagnosis."
"You're just as despicable. You lied, too."
"Maybe," I lick my lips as my eyes settle on his mouth. "I don't want to pay for your shitty decisions, Wilder. I paid for Cash's for years. When Karissa finds out the truth—and she will—I don't want to be around for it."
"I'm not Cash," he steps closer. "I'm not the good guy, Blondie. I'm not the guy who does the right thing all the time. I'm a lot of fun, though."
What is he saying? That he thinks I'm trying to replace Cash with him? That I hold him to the same standard as the asshole who ditched me for Europe.
"Don't worry, Wilder," I purse my lips. "I know exactly who you are."
"Good."
"You're the guy who cons girls into sleeping with you by telling sad, pathetic stories," I breathe through my nose. "I feel sad for you. You have sex with girls one time, then move on. You've never even been in a relationship. Does it have something to do with Olivia-Sophia?"
"Mind your fucking business," Wilder warns.
