“If I run out,” I say, “then I’ll come back. I promise.”
“Why can’t you just promise to not run out?” Phoebe asks.
“Because that might be a lie, and I don’t want there to be any more lies between us.”
Phoebe and Falon exchange nervous glances.
“Let us think it over,” Phoebe says.
“OK. But I’m going to cancel my flight in the meantime.”
“Then you’ll be stuck here with us. Are you sure you can handle that?”
I fight back the urge to say something snarky or crack a joke. I hug my sister instead, and I don’t let go until we’re both teary eyed. “I’m sure, as long as you’re sure you can handle being stuck with me.”
“I’ve never been stuck with you.” She pulls away and her hazel eyes lock with mine. “And even though you can’t pick your family, if I could, I’d choose you to be my sister, Penny. I’d choose you one thousand times over.”
“Me too.” I wipe back a tear. “I’d pick you one thousand and one.”
“Show-off.” She pulls me in for another hug.
It’s late afternoon before Martin returns from the hospital. Phoebe and Falon take the next shift so Mom and Nana Rosie can be fully rested for tomorrow. Martin assures us that they won’t be missing anything. He explains that my father has slept most of the day since the procedure. Dr. Vance assures us that everything went as close to textbook perfect as possible and not to worry. She says that some people just need sleep, and if there’s anyone who needs a long rest after the past two days, it’s my dad.
“Can we talk?” Martin asks after we finish a dinner of frozen pizza. Nana Rosie has instructed that all non-heart-healthy food be consumed before my father’s return from the hospital, which is a task everyone under forty has taken very seriously. “Outside maybe?”
“Sure,” I reply. “I’ll grab Ozzie’s leash.”
It’s cold out. Much colder than last night, but I don’t mind it. There’s a new moon, which makes everything feel a little better. Not necessarily warmer, but hopeful. I reach for my smoky quartz necklace, and I’m quickly reminded that it’s probably buried beneath three inches of manure in the Donaldsons’ yard. Fiona’s ring is still in the Tiffany box next to my bed. I like knowing that I have it, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to wear it just yet.
We make small talk, mostly about my dad. I get the sense that Martin is hovering around the real reason he invited me out for a walk, but I don’t press him. Time is the least I can give him after all he’s done for me and my family over the past few days.
We reach the end of my neighborhood, and I try to turn right down Orange as usual, but he grabs my hand and stops me. “I knew your dad was sick,” he says. “Your dad started having chest pains a few days before Thanksgiving. I tried to get him to take it easy or go see a doctor, but he insisted that he was fine. I should’ve told you. I should’ve told all of you, but he swore me to secrecy. He didn’t want anything to ruin this Thanksgiving.”
I’m not sure what to say. Of course, part of me wishes he would’ve said something. I know it wouldn’t have changed the outcome of my father needing surgery, but it’s possible it could’ve prevented the heart attack. That’s assuming my father would’ve allowed us to take him to a doctor. He’s a stubborn man—an Aries if there ever was one—and so it’s possible we would’ve still ended up at the hospital last night. The truth is that Martin was in a no-win situation, and as the unofficial queen of no-win situations, I can’t really be upset with him.
Instead of being angry or making him feel worse than he clearly already does, I tell Martin what I want to hear whenever I find myself in a similar situation. “It sounds like you were screwed either way. And not in the good way.”
“Definitely not in the good way.”
“I’m not mad at you, if that’s what you’re worried about. But maybe keep that confession between just you and me?”
He nods in agreement. “I also need to apologize for my behavior last night. As you’re aware, I wasn’t exactly in my right frame of mind.”
“I’m not even sure you were on this planet for most of the dinner.”
“Regardless, I hate the fact that I stole your pitch.”
“To be fair, that wasn’t exactly my pitch.” I chuckle. “You pitched the ultimate stoner’s bookstore and burger joint.”