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I haven’t talked to anyone about Aubrey, and I’m not sure why I’ve chosen Rosa and not one of my friends. I know Taylor would gladly gossip about it for hours.
“Do you really like this girl?” she asks.
I look to the ceiling, at the familiar tiles, and let out a long, shallow breath.
“I’ve never liked anyone until her. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Every time I see her, I feel like I’m on the football field with a million guys trying to tackle me. When she smiles, or when I get a rare touch of her, I get actually weak in my knees. She’s insanely smart–way too smart for someone like me. She’s kind and sweet, even if I have a habit of ruffling her feathers. Her eyes are the most beautiful eyes I’ve seen.”
I say this all with my voice low, almost a whisper. Worried if I speak my truth too loudly, the bubble of my braveness may burst.
“She sounds lovely,” Rosa says, patting my arm once more before standing and shuffling around, putting her equipment away, and moving to unhook me from my IV.
“She’s–she’s perfect,” I say.
“Then you need to tell her, Emmett. You need to be honest with her,” Rosa says with a smile that doesn’t meet her kind eyes. “Now, get out of here. You’re done for the day.”
I sit alone in the room for a little while longer, counting the tiles on the ceiling like old times. Before I can accidentally drift off to sleep, I get up and leave the hospital–taking Rosa’s words of advice with me. I call the bakery on my drive home. When Bea tells me she’ll put my usual order in, I stop her. I’ve got a plan.
I reach the barn before Aubrey gets there and I take a seat in the recliner I moved the other day and wait. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. It’s only a few minutes before I see the streak of yellow come up the gravel drive, copper strands of hair fluttering in the wind.
After Aubrey left yesterday, I realized I wanted these little deliveries to last longer. Today is the perfect day because I couldn’t order early like I usually do. Last night I pulled a second recliner over and set a table between them–only a little pleased that moving the recliner didn’t seem as exerting as it would have a few weeks ago. I’m finally starting to put on a little weight and get some of my strength back. Another bonus, I’ll be able to stop wearing hats twenty-four seven soon. I’ve only got a few patchy areas left on my head.
Aubrey walks toward me, carrying my order.
“Someone’s hungry today,” she says, giving the bag a small shake but eyeing my set up curiously.
I walk to her and take the bag from her hand and lace the fingers of my free hand through hers, surprised when she doesn’t fight me.
“I’m starving,” I say, leading us over to the chairs. “But I was hoping you’re hungry too, and would have lunch with me.”
I set the sandwich bag on the table between the two chairs and look back at her.
“I’m working–” she protests.
“Already talked to Bea. She said you’re more than welcome to take a lunch break with me.”
Aubrey’s mouth hangs open, but soon she gives me a shy smile and takes a seat in the chair I’m holding out for her. I place the sandwiches in front of each of us and wait for her to take a bite of hers before digging into mine. We eat, mostly in silence, for several minutes.
This should be it. This should be the moment I tell her about the cancer. But I don’t, because I’m a coward.
Instead, I ask her about herself because I could listen to her talk for hours and still want to hear her talk more. When I get past all the basic favorites—her favorite color is purple, her favorite book is one I’ve never even heard of—I move on to more abstract questions, just for fun.
“If you could live on any other planet, which one would you choose?”
She laughs before her face turns serious. She goes quiet for an almost uncomfortably long time.
“Titan. Which is technically a moon, but it has an atmosphere so you wouldn’t need a space suit. Just an oxygen face mask and a warm jacket. The temperature tends to be pretty frigid.”
I can’t help but stare at her, my jaw slack.
“What? Is that not an acceptable answer?” she says finally.
“You are way too smart for me,” I say, shaking my head and popping the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth.
Aubrey’s cheeks redden, making her green eyes pop.
“I should probably get back to work,” she says as she stands from her chair.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
