She looks over at her walker. “Yes, me and Wendy the Walker, are literally joined at the hip these days.”
I smile. “Good. And how’s the diet? Are you actually eating those greens I suggested, or are you still sneaking those lemon shortbread cookies from Nanny Shirley’s?”
She swats at me with her free hand. “How about both? A woman my age deserves a little sweetness in her life. In more ways than one. Now, what’s going on with you? You’ve got that look in your eye that says your head is somewhere else entirely.”
I sigh, folding my stethoscope into my bag. I’m just going to tell her. I need to practice the words anyway, and God knows I’m not ready for the real thing yet. My mom and I have been at odds ever since I stopped following the “sensible” routes in life she mapped out for me, and I know my daddy won't be able to shield me from her wrath once this news hits.
It’s safe to assume my parents are going to have a collective heart attack when they find out their logical, level-headed daughter got accidentally hitched in a Vegas chapel. Without their permission or their presence. Ms. Lilly is the perfect dry run for the fallout.
“I actually have a new client,” I start, picking at a loose thread on my bag. “His name is Luca Chidubem. He’s soon-to-be captain for the Atlanta Strikers soccer team or club or whatever. And he was recently injured.”
Ms. Lilly just nods. She’s noticeably confused.
“And he needs a nurse. So he hired me.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem so troubling! Girl, you’re sitting here looking like someone died, and you mean to tell me you get to spend all that time with a professional athlete?” She lowers her head and her voice conspiratorially. “Please tell me you’re going to tap that?”
I let out a nervous, breathless laugh. “Funny you should say that. Because…”
I can do this. I can say the words. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
“He’s...well, he’s my husband. Sort of.”
Ms. Lilly’s eyebrows shoot toward the silver hairline of her lace front. “Sort of? Darling, marriage is like a penis. It’s either in or it’s out. There is no 'sort of.' This is the man you met in Vegas?”
I take a deep breath and lay it all out. The full truth. About Vegas, the undeniable chemistry in the pods, and the legal marriage that neither of us saw turning into the most beautiful disaster we’d ever encountered. I tell her about the spectacular crash-and-burn that followed, and I even explain the SightUnseen of it all, being careful to dance around the restricted details of my NDA.
“So, technically, the paperwork says I’m Mrs. Chidubem,” I finish, the words feeling heavy and hollow at the same time. “But he’s officially called it all off. Our divorce—annulment—will be final in a few months.”
“So you mean to tell me I get to see my favorite nurse on my favorite show?” She beams, completely bypassing what I thought was the most shocking part of the story. The fact that I’m married? Not a blink. But the reality TV aspect has her practically vibrating in her chair.
“We aren't on the regular season,” I explain, trying to manage her excitement. “The Vegas participants are more like a special feature. Instead of a full season of us in the pods, they’re airing highlights in between commercial breaks. It’s just pieces of our time together—from that first conversation to the wedding to us living together. It’ll air in segments over the next few weeks during the regular season’s broadcast.”
I look at her, my heart racing. “Our first episode airs in two weeks. Everyone is going to see it, Ms. Lilly. My parents. My former coworkers. Everyone.”
I expect her to be shocked or, at the very least, a little disappointed in my impulsivity. Instead, Ms. Lilly just lets out a long, soft sigh and asks a single, simple question.
“Are you alright, Penny?”
I definitely wasn’t expecting the question. Which is why it makes me freeze. Then I quickly turn my head away as if the answer is floating somewhere on the other side of the sunroom, just out of reach. My throat tightens, and before I can swallow the lump, I’m sobbing. It’s not even a graceful cry. It’s the messy, ugly release of everything I’ve been holding back since the mediation. Since I walked out of the coffee shop, and agreed to walk back into his life.
Even with Tatum, I made it seem like I was crying it out and then releasing it after that day. But I don’t think I’ve been alright since the day of me and Luca’s big blow up. The day we decided to call it quits.
Ms. Lilly reaches over and grabs a box of tissues from the side table. She hands me a few, then pulls out a couple for herself, as if she’s bracing to carry the weight with me.
“To be honest,” I say, my voice thick as she reaches out to help dab a stray tear from my cheek, “I don’t even know if I’m alright. I convinced myself I was going to power through this and 'boss' my way through the annulment the same way I do everything else in my life. But—”
“No matter how long it lasted, Penny,” she interrupts gently, her eyes full of a seasoned kind of wisdom, “it’s still a marriage. Hearts don't keep time the way lawyers do.”
“Wow,” I whisper. “I guess I never let myself think of it that way.”
“That’s exactly why you have old lady friends, darling,” she says. “Our job is to tell you the things you need to hear in the ways you haven't dared to think of yet.”
Normally, that role belongs to my mother. But as I look at Ms. Lilly’s steady, compassionate gaze, I send up a silent prayer of thanks. My mother and I might be at a standstill, but it seems Ms. Lilly is stepping in as her own version of a “Stand-In” just when I need her most.
“So, what should I do?” I ask, the question spilling out shamelessly. I haven’t dared to ask anyone else, but Ms. Lilly feels like the only person who won't judge the wreckage. “I haven’t told my mother, and to make matters worse, I start working for my husband on Monday.”
Ms. Lilly chuckles. “I’d recommend telling your mother as soon as possible. If you have an ally in the house—”
