I texted Luna and told her I’d changed my mind, and within thirty minutes, I was on my way to tea.
“He has cancer,” I blurted.
“I know.” Luna stared into her cup of tea without moving, and I didn’t want to believe her, but she hadn’t even blinked at my declaration.
“How could you know?”
“I don’t know how to explain it,” she said. “It’s just… a feeling I get. Sometimes dreams. I don’t hear anything crazy like voices in my head. It’s not like that. It’s just… feelings.”
“That’s what you felt that night?” I asked. “Isn’t it?”
She nodded, but it was stiff. I felt like there was more she wasn’t telling me, but I wasn’t sure.
I wrapped my hands around the warm cup of Earl Grey. “What kind of feeling did you get? How did you know?”
“I didn’t know it was cancer.” Her hand moved up to her collarbone, absently rubbing the area. “But I suspected. Something in his chest, right? I felt it.”
“He told me it was bronchitis,” I answered. “But his medical records said there’s a mass in his chest.”
Luna nodded and took a sip of her chai. “I thought so.”
“I’m pregnant too.”
Luna blinked and dipped her head, and a solitary tear fell down her cheek, surprising me. She reached out to touch my arm, and I didn’t back away the way I usually would. “You’re going to be a good mother.”
“I don’t know about that.” I glanced out the window. “I don’t even know how to tell Lucian. I’m afraid he’s going to be angry. And now there are so many uncertainties ahead of us, I’m terrified.”
“He won’t be angry,” Luna assured me. “And no matter what happens, you will get through it. Your blood is strong. You are resilient. I believe in you.”
Her words meant a lot more than she could ever know, and I didn’t realize how much I’d needed to hear them.
“You should do whatever you feel is right,” she said. “Your instincts won’t lead you astray.”
“I wish I could believe that,” I whispered.
“Just trust that everything will work out the way that it’s intended.” She smiled sadly. “What other alternative is there?”
I SPENT THE DAY MAPPING out my course of action, confident that it was the right one. When Lucian got home tonight, we would sit down like adults and discuss what happened last night.
After taking some time to digest my thoughts on the incident, I knew something was up with him. I just wasn’t quite sure what it was. He usually talked to me if something was bothering him, but this time, it came out of left field and blindsided me. He needed to know that it was unacceptable. And then, he needed to know that regardless, I was there for him.
I decided to broach the subject of his cancer first because that was the most pressing issue. Even as tenuous as things were between us, I wanted to maintain hope. I wanted to convince him that he could and should fight, and I was determined to do it without bringing up the subject of the baby. With his history, the last thing I wanted to do was corner him with the announcement.
Lucian needed to choose life without feeling tricked into it, and I believed he would. I was certain of it. Or maybe, I was just deluded.
When I woke up on the sofa at midnight with still no sign of him, I began to wonder if we were set to have a repeat of the night before. I checked my phone and saw nothing from him, and the fracture in my heart split a little deeper. I sat up and stared at the door, debating what I should do. But when I saw his shoes there, I realized he had come home.
It didn’t take me long to find him. When I wandered down the hall, his office door was open, and he was at his desk. But this wasn’t the Lucian that I knew. His clothes were wrinkled, and his face was covered with a day’s worth of growth that he usually kept clean. That wasn’t what bothered me. What bothered me was the alcohol I could smell from the doorway, seeping from his pores.
“Have you been drinking?” It was a stupid question, considering that the bottle of whiskey sat on the desk in front of him. But I wanted an explanation that would make sense. I’d never seen Lucian drink before.
“What does it matter, pet?” He smiled, and it was lopsided, his gaze moving over my body with a hunger that always managed to stir something inside me, even when I was angry.
We needed to talk, but it was clear it wouldn’t be while he was in this condition. I moved forward, confiscating the bottle of whiskey from the desk, and Lucian laughed.