I look at him and say, “It’s not like I have a choice, do I?”
He gives me a sheepish look and shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry.”
I blow out a shaky breath. The time has come for me to face facts here. It’s not like I haven’t had these thoughts before. But when you’re presented with them like this, it’s like having ice water thrown in your face.
I don’t know where the calm comes from, but I’m numb as I ask, “Do your parents know?”
“Not yet. Will you go with me when I tell them?”
“You know I will.” I lay my head on his chest. “What about Ben?”
“I hope you don’t mind, but he’s on his way over.”
“No. I don’t mind.” The truth is I’m kind of glad he’s coming.
Ben never knocks, but for some reason, he does tonight. When I open the door, I can see the fear in his gray eyes. His dark brown hair is disheveled and I know why. He keeps running his hands through it, as he’s doing now. Then he jerks me into his arms and we stand there, two dazed souls, trying to comfort each other. We hear Drew’s voice calling from the other room.
“Stop sniveling out there and get in here you two.”
“Leave it to him to say something like that,” Ben says against my shoulder. Then he sniffs, wipes his eyes, and gives me a weak smile. Holding out his hand he asks, “Ready?”
We walk in together and Ben asks, “Since when have I ever sniveled?”
“Since you decided to take me on as your best friend and carry this cancer thing around with you.” Then Drew blurts out, “I’m not gonna make it, dude. This is my last hurrah.”
“I figured that’s what you were gonna say. You wouldn’t have called my ass over here for anything else. Good news usually gets delivered with a phone call.”
“Damn, the dude grew some neurons and they actually started firing.” Drew grins. Or tries to anyway.
Ben shakes his head. “Every now and then my common sense flares its head.”
Drew looks at me and says, “Cate, can you give us a minute?”
It gives me the break I need so I run up to our bedroom and call Jenna. I’m nearly hyperventilating by the time she answers.
“Hey and I know it’s not good. Ben’s already hit me up with his suspicions.”
“He’s quitting everything,” I tell her and I explain.
“Oh, Cate.” Her voice conveys her heartbreak. Then I hear her sniffing and it starts a round of my own.
“What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know, but you’ll be doing it in great company. You’ll have Ben, me, Letty, Ray, and your parents. Drew has quite the fan club and that means you’ll have tons of support.”
“As great as that sounds, it won’t replace my husband.” And I turn into a sobbing mess. Jesus, if I can’t even think about it, how the fuck will I function through it?
Jenna reads my mind because she says, between tears, “One hour at a time. Or maybe even one minute at a time. And sometimes, one breath at a time.”
“I’d better get back down there and I’ve gotta pull myself together first.”
“Cate, it’s okay if he sees you cry.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want the rest of our days to be filled with nothing but that. I want his last days to be good, you know?”
“I know. I’m here if you need me.”
“You always are.”
I go into the bathroom and look at the woman in the mirror. Red, puffy eyes with lips to match distort my face, and it has become my normal look lately. I splash cold water on me, hoping to rinse some of the swelling away, only I know that won’t do it. What I need is a five-pound bag of ice to do the trick.
When I rejoin the guys, Ben looks as bad as I do, so I head to the liquor cabinet and pour him a tumbler full of Jameson. His hand shakes as he grabs it from me. Then I wedge myself next to Drew and wrap my arm through his.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask.
“I hate to make you get back up again.”
“Dammit, Drew, I’d climb fucking Everest for you.” I teeter on another round of tears, and he pulls me into him.
“Babe, all I want is one of those IPAs I love.”
“I can handle that.” I fly off the couch and grab one out of the refrigerator and bring it back to him. I’m back in seconds.
He laughs. “Cate, it’s not a race.”
But it is. A race against time. The question hangs over me … how much? A year? Months?
He knows and he says, “Babe, like I told Ben, it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of six months, give or take.”
My hand clenches Drew’s thigh and my eyes connect with Ben’s. Six months. By summer he’ll be gone. I try to calculate in my accountant’s brain how many more nights I have with him. Six times thirty equals one eighty. One hundred and eighty days and nights with Drew. And then nothing.