Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
I wait patiently until he appears again, and though I know he’s lost so much weight, I fight to contain my shock at the sight of him in clothes he hasn’t worn for so long. They’re hanging from him. “You look handsome,” I declare, taking his hand and leading on.
“You are a shocking liar, Lo Harper.” Billy sighs, letting me gingerly guide him down the stairs. When we arrive at the kitchen door, I turn and brush down the front of Billy’s shirt, ignoring the feel of his bony chest beneath.
“Ready?” I ask, looking up at his gaunt face. His sunken eyes. His sallow skin. It’s all so hard to see. To accept. But his lips? I could literally burst into tears when they lift at one corner, his head shaking mildly, more through lack of strength than intention.
“Ready,” he breathes, and I grin, swinging the door open.
“Surprise,” everyone sings, but then silence falls abruptly, all of our guests faces dropping like lead when they catch sight of the friend they haven’t seen for months. My nerves begin to fray, and I peek up at Billy, seeing he is, indeed, surprised. His deep-set eyes are wide as he scans the people in the kitchen.
Oh God, it’s too quiet. I take Billy’s hand and tug him on. “Happy birthday,” I sing, glancing at our friends and mentally willing them to snap out of their shocked states.
It’s Lewis who does first, bounding forward with his bottle of Scotch and grinning wickedly. “Happy birthday, mate.” He throws his arms around Billy, and I relish the sight of my husband’s arms lifting to accept his friend’s hug.
“Thanks,” Billy replies, still seeming a little struck.
Everyone steps forward, each of them wishing Billy a happy birthday, embracing him, and never mentioning how terrible they think he looks. Neither do they ask how he is, because that much is obvious. But I’m grateful. Tonight isn’t about Billy talking about his sickness. Tonight is about friends.
Billy moves across to a chair, and I see Lewis fight the compulsion to pull it out for him. Please don’t! “I’ve got it, mate.” Billy smiles his reassurance at Lewis, obviously catching his mental debate too. “Sit down.” He motions to the other seats around the table. “Tell me about work.”
Lewis visibly relaxes and starts talking, and Billy listens with apparent interest. Happy with the chatter at the table and my husband’s willingness to interact, I go to the oven and pull out the bolognaise, serving everyone. I don’t make a big deal of Billy’s miniscule portion, nor do I encourage him to eat more when he barely touches what’s on his plate. I do, however, pass him the wine Penny poured for him on a smile, and relish the small one I get in return. A smile from my husband has never made me so happy, and I battle to force back the sting in my eyes before it gives my emotions away. This is everything I wanted it to be, and so many memories steam forward of our group dinners together over the years, times when we’d take it in turns to host and sit around the table until the early hours, laughing and fighting to get a word in edgewise.
We talk for an hour, chat about old times, about work, and the whole time Billy remains alert and responsive to the conversation. This is the best medicine he could have. Why haven’t I done this before? It’s been wonderful.
“Hey, Lo,” Gareth says, leaning his elbows on the table. “I saw you last week walking Boris.”
“I feel like I’m always walking Boris.” I start to collect the plates, stacking them in front of me as everyone passes them over.
“You were with someone. A tall dude.”
My hands falter, too much to go unnoticed, and I flick my eyes to Billy to find he’s regarding me. I get back to stacking plates, trying not to look uncomfortable. There’s only one person Gareth could mean. “I don’t recall walking with anyone.” I get up with the plates and take them to the sink, feeling Billy’s eyes on my back. Oh, God.
“You don’t recall?” Billy’s voice is full of curiosity, and maybe a bit of suspicion.
I slap a smile on my face and turn to face the table. “Must have been a fellow dog walker. Maybe I was saying hi.” I’m pleading on the inside that I wasn’t latched on to Luke’s arm when Gareth claims to have seen me. “The park can get busy in the evening. Let’s do the cake.” I grab the candles and start pushing all twenty-nine into the top of the chocolate icing, hoping that will be that.
I hear the chatter start again at the table while I’m busy and breathe out my relief. I was completely unprepared for that, and even if I was prepared, how on earth would I explain Luke?