“When’s the wedding?” Emilia asked.

“We’re not doing anything fancy. Just something for the family and close friends, like Heath. I’d love to do something on the beach. But we don’t have a date yet because…” Her voice died out when it shook with emotion.

Peter took her hand. “We’re waiting until Mia’s scan comes back negative. We’ll figure out everything out then.”

Kim let out a long breath and smiled at her daughter. Emilia hugged her again and reassured her that that would be soon. God, I hoped so.

Not too long after, we saw them to the door, hugged them and congratulated them again. I was envious of their uncomplicated happiness. But it wasn’t like they didn’t deserve it. Peter’s wife had left him when his kids were still young and he’d had to raise them—and then me, later on—by himself. Kim had had her heart broken at a very young age by a worthless cheater and hadn’t found someone to share her life with until now. I did wish them happiness, and I was certain I’d get over the ick factor, hopefully soon.

Once the door clicked closed and they were walking back across the island to their car, I turned back to Emilia, who was looking at me with a crooked smile on her face. I took a deep breath and smiled back.

She moved up to me somewhat slowly, awkwardly and put her arms around my neck. To avoid that always-tense moment with that question of “will we or won’t we kiss?” I kissed her forehead and she blew out a sigh. I didn’t trust myself to kiss her on the mouth again. Not after last time, when I’d almost been sucked into forgetting that we were still trying to take it slow.

“So, um….can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure. Anything,” I answered.

“Aren’t you a little…um….grossed out by that?” she said, making a face.

I exhaled in relief. “Totally.”

She shuddered for a minute. “Um. Like, are you and I going to be cousins now?”

I shook my head. “Let’s not talk about it.”

“It’s like…I had to jump out of that chair and hug her right away and not let myself think about it, but the whole time I was congratulating them, my brain was shouting, ‘No! Ewwww!’”

We laughed and went to watch TV. She sat snuggled next to me in my recliner, her head on my shoulder. She smelled so amazing that I got a little bit of a high from the scent of her skin. I rested my hand on her waist, willed it to stay put. Fortunately I was so exhausted, I didn’t have to remind myself too many times to keep my hands off of her.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mia

Two weeks later, the night before Adam’s twenty-seventh birthday, he got a car and driver for our first romantic night out in months. I would have liked to have been with him on the night of his birthday but he cited an unavoidable event that would be taking him out of town for the next week. To be honest, I was nervous to be without him, but he gave me no details.

Strangely, we drove up to Los Angeles for dinner. We rarely ventured up into the City of Angels. Most residents of Orange County acted like they had a phobia of Los Angeles, which, I’ll admit, was kind of silly. But everyone claimed to have the best of Southern California in their backyard, so LA became a necessary evil for things like transportation or big shows or the museums that just didn’t quite cut it down south.

I dressed in a classic little black dress with a matching flapper-style hat, thanks to Sonia the shopper’s impeccable taste. Adam had threatened to take me out for dancing—presumably the tango—afterward, so I almost, almost donned a wig. I owned two—one of them with bright purple hair, much to Adam’s dismay—but had never worn them for more than five minutes in the house before pulling them off in frustration. It felt fake to wear one and I knew that was a silly feeling, but it was there nonetheless.

The dress was short, showing off my now too-skinny legs, and had a high neckline—a requirement of my clothing these days. I never showed any cleavage at all, nor anything that drew attention to my chest. I was only worthy of dressing like a granny now. My body was no longer something to show off, to be proud of. It was a secret shame to shroud under layers of clothing.

Adam was as gorgeous as ever, wearing a dark blue evening suit with matching tie against a crème-colored shirt. I loved when he wore dark colors. It suited him, with his glossy black hair and dark eyes. It added to his alluring mystique. I used to feel beautiful beside him, like we complemented each other. We’d turned heads and I knew we were an unusually good-looking couple. But now it felt wonky, uneven. Like a teeter-totter overly weighted on one side so that it couldn’t move. He was stunningly handsome and I was a faded, insignificant, too-thin and sick-looking hanger-on at his side. We no longer looked like we belonged together. Quite possibly because in reality we didn’t.