Maude’s chest ached for Ollie. She could see how hard this was for him. “They’ll come around. I know this is difficult, but you’re not the bad guy in this. Emily is. And your kids are going to be all right. They’ve got you for a dad, after all.”
He looked at her then, really looked, and something in his expression changed. “Having you to talk to helps more than you realize.”
Maude’s heart squeezed. “I am always here for you. Always.”
He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together on the tabletop. “I’m so glad you’re back in my life.”
The cafeteria noise faded. Maude nodded. “That makes two of us.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cece hummed to herself as she touched up her mascara, Peanut circling her ankles like a furry satellite. She had an oil change appointment in town. Not a chore she exactly looked forward to, but she figured she might finish her book club book while she was waiting. And maybe afterwards she’d run into Walmart and see what they had in the way of clothes.
She’d found things there before. A jean jacket. A pair of tan pants. Hard to tell what gem might be lurking. Blaise would probably not approve of clothing from Walmart. Then again, considering Blaise’s financial situation, maybe she would.
Cece could show her anything she bought and what Blaise didn’t like, Cece would return. She went to her dresser and reached for her usual leggings, then paused.
Her hand inched toward the drawer beneath the one her leggings were in, her thoughts onthoseshorts.
The ones she’d shoved in the back last year after they refused to button. She’d stared angrily at her waistline and hadn’t tried them on since. Too many days she’d chosen forgiveness in the form of yoga pants instead.
Things were different now. So on a whim, maybe fueled by the memory of surviving that exercise class yesterday without collapsing, she pulled the shorts out. They were white, the most unforgiving color, but denim, which did help hold things in.
“Should we dare, Peanut?” she asked.
Peanut flicked her tail, which Cece decided was approval.
Holding her breath, she stepped in, tugged them up and blinked. They buttoned. Easily.
How in the name of Billy Blanks was that possible?
She twisted in front of the mirror, half expecting a trick of the light. But nope. Not only did they fit, the waistband wasn’t even tight. It was comfortable, actually.
“Oh, my goodness.” Cece laughed, delighted and stunned in equal measure. “Peanut! Look at this!”
Peanut hopped up onto the bed as if to inspect the victory. Cece placed her hands on her hips, evaluating herself. She’d sort of feltsmallerbut everything she wore lately had a stretch panel or an elastic waistband. Workout clothes mostly.
Could this really be happening already? She had been faithful to the gym. And she’d avoided carbs with true dedication.
Maybe all those morning walks were helping. Or maybe it was the stress of everything Natalie had been going through. Or maybe it was just Cece taking care of herself again.
Whatever it was, she needed to keep doing it. Except for the stress bit. She’d be just fine to put that behind her.
“Good for you,” she whispered to her reflection, a smile blooming across her face.
After another admiring turn, she slipped on a breezy top and sandals, but a new thought tugged at her.
If her body was changing, if she was feeling better, which she was, then maybe it was time to get the whole picture. A fresh start deserved a fresh check-in. She was supposed to be going in for a yearly checkup anyway since the cancer.
She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, calling over her shoulder, “Peanut, remind me later. I’m booking a physical.”
Peanut meowed, which Cece translated asabout time.Maybe she’d even do it while she waited on her car.
As she locked the door and stepped into the sunlit morning, she realized the waistband of her shorts wasn’t just fabric. It was proof that she was doing something good for herself. And it really was about time.
When Cece arrived at the garage, she handed over her keys and settled into one of the plastic chairs in the oil change waiting area, putting her purse on the chair next to her. The TV mounted high in the corner was playing a muted daytime talk show with the captions on, but she barely glanced at it.
She kept tugging lightly at the waistband of her shorts, just to confirm they still fit the way she thought they did. They did. Every time.
