Page 74 of Make You Stay

I realize one night of laughter won’t cure what ails them, but I want to help provide as many happy memories as possible. There will be a plethora of sad ones in the future.

A car horn beeps outside, and the girls give me a final hug before tearing out the door, leaving Aidan and me staring at one other.

Running my sleeve under my nose, I force a grin and a sad shrug before crossing the room and burying my head in his chest. “I’m so sorry. My heart breaks for all of you. Let me know how I can help.”

Life is funny. You think your problems are insurmountable until life shows you ones that truly are, making yours minuscule in the process.

Aidan wraps his arms around me, holding me close as he presses his lips to my hair. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Resting my chin on his chest, I shoot him a smile, but it’s full of heartbreak. Right now, it’s the best I can manage. “I’ll help however you need—watching the girls or running errands.”

Aidan grazes his hand along my cheek, his gaze soft. “That’s not what I meant. I’m gladyou’reback. I missed you.”

I missed him too, to the point of agony, but I can’t walk that path again, no matter how much my heart wants me to.

“I’m going to say hello to Enid.” It’s a good segue, allowing me to step from the warmth of his embrace and put much-needed space between us. It also allows me to hug my friend, all while hopefully holding it together.

Enid hops out of her car, shaking her head, a rueful expression on her face. “I guess you heard the news. A banner year, isn’t it?”

Pulling her to me, I squeeze my arms around her, willing the cancer away from the sheer force of my love. If only it were that easy. “I’m trying not to cry, but I suck at that.”

Enid grins at me, an honest to God, genuine smile this time. “Yeah, you do. You know what? I need a drink, and I want to go somewhere they won’t shoot my sympathetic looks. I’ll have Aidan watch the girls a few hours more, and we will have some fun. That is if you’ll come with me?”

I glance down at my usual attire—leggings and a sweatshirt. “Give me ten minutes.”

Dashing into the house past Aidan, I grasp his arm. “Enid and I are going for a drink. We’ll be back later.”

“Okay. Be safe.”

“I’ll try not to dance on too many tabletops.”

I’m halfway up the stairs when Aidan calls my name.

Looking back at him, I pause, wondering what else he has to say. Wondering if thereisanything else to say.

He runs a hand over his beard, and for the first time, I see him struggling for the words. “Think about what I said.” Without another glance, he spins on his heel, walking out the front door.

Now, what the hell does that mean? Aidan has said a lot of things, and lately, none of them good.

With a sigh, I climb the stairs. Time to focus on my friend, some drinks, and a few laughs.

* * *

One drink turned into three,along with a dinner feast. We went to the trendiest restaurant in Asheville and blew obscene amounts of money.

But we laughed. We cried. We experienced every emotion in between.

Per Enid, it’s terrible for people to know you’re dying. Not because you hate them knowing, but it’s like suddenly, you’re made of glass, and everyone is waiting for you to break. She joked how people she knew couldn’t stand her were now dropping off casseroles, and while she appreciated the gesture, the irony wasn’t lost on her.

That’s why she needed a night out with me. I might be sad and sappy, but at least it’s genuine. She knows I loved her before she was handed her sentence.

She drops me off at a little past ten, and I walk into the house, smiling as I recall how we bopped in the car the whole drive back, singing our hearts out to eighties music.

Despite it all, the heartache and the unimaginable hole losing Enid will leave, we still laughed, and we meant every chuckle.

Rolling my shoulders, I pad into the kitchen, pulling out a glass of wine. Sue me, but I’m not entirely done for the evening. Then I flip on the radio and settle into one of the armchairs Aidan bought me for Christmas. They are truly amazing pieces of furniture, fitting perfectly into the reading nook that’s ninety percent finished.

“Can I join you?”

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