Nineteen

Riley withdrew from the world, choosing to stay with her mom. She called in sick to Sephora and her BBC internship, temporarily vanishing from campus. Her swimsuit remained in her backpack, balled up and ignored, and unread notifications congregated in her social media accounts. More important tasks beckoned, like running errands to the pharmacy and bank, plus accompanying Maggie to her first revamped chemotherapy treatment. It hadn’t gone well.

Maggie returned home more nauseous than usual, could barely eat, and was tormented by an angry red rash that had sprung up across her abdomen and back. Stoic as ever, she downplayed her discomfort and exhaustion, telling her daughter in no uncertain terms that with only a month left until graduation, she was jeopardizing her degree and she should “get her ass back to the East Village, pronto,” but Riley wouldn’t listen. The thought of returning to school, hoping no one would find her crumpled in the corner of a restroom stall crying her heart out, made her sick to her stomach. She needed to be by Maggie’s side, making things easier any way she could. While her mom napped, she did laundry, cleaned the apartment, and prepared meals, trying to keep her hands and mind busy. Sitting still with nothing to do let the unthinkable creep into her thoughts, stoking the cold fear that grew inside her. But, once her mom was awake, Smiley Riley was back in action, boosting spirits and building a wall around her depression so no one, especially her mom, would be the wiser. Maggie knew, though. Moms like Maggie always did.

The only person Riley spoke to regularly was Piper, whispering underneath a blanket on the couch while Maggie slept. Sometimes after their chats, Riley would bawl in the shower or muffle her cries with a pillow, but later, puffy eyes and a swollen nose betrayed her secret. Messages and texts—including an angry email from Riley’s landlord demanding rent—clogged her screen, remaining unanswered until Piper stepped in, dealing with Riley’s super, and keeping Casey and Erika in the loop, allowing her best friend to focus on her mom.

Reaching her fiancé, however, had proved nearly impossible since North Dakota won the NCAA final the same day Maggie’s news broke. Josh had sent her a text immediately following their victory and Riley spoke to him briefly, but she barely had three minutes with him before the media relations director whisked him away for the post-game press conference. A text followed the next day.

Sorry about yesterday, babe. They’ve got us booked for interviews and meet and greets, it’s crazy! I’m sorry I can’t fly home to be with you right now.

And that was it. Since that message—six days ago—Riley’s calls, FaceTime attempts, and texts went unanswered by the team captain. His social media feeds, on the other hand, were updated with photos of ecstatic teammates sprawled on the ice with the NCAA trophy, images from the standing-room-only celebration on their home rink, and party shots—lots of boozy party pix, bleary-eyed and posing with people she didn’t recognize. She knew the big win would come with unavoidable obligations this week, but why hadn’t he spared a few minutes to get in touch?

Fuck it. She stopped folding towels in Maggie’s living room and texted him.

I’ve changed my mind.

Josh replied within seconds.

What?

Riley shook her head. Well, THAT got his attention. She sent a FaceTime request. It barely beeped before her fiancé answered, neatly dressed in a suit, Kelly green tie and a white shirt, the collar of which stood out against a purple bruise on the side of his neck. Ouch! Male voices joked in the background, but Josh ignored them, staring into the screen.

“Riley, what’s going on?”

“You tell me.” She squinted. “What happened to your neck?”

“I got whacked with a high stick on Saturday—”

“Josh got payback, though!” A deep voice, accompanied by a face Riley recognized—a freshman teammate—interrupted. “Fucking legend! Scored the winner while that asshole stewed in the box! Won us the whole freakin’ thing!”

“Yeah, well…” Josh winced, scratching his playoff beard. “Give me a minute, bro.” He shifted his phone so the camera captured him from the chest up as he started walking. “Rye—”

“KINGY!” Several teammates hollered as he rushed passed. Riley couldn’t tell where they were. The pot lights, ambient music, and Josh’s clothes suggested they weren’t on campus. He turned a corner, entering somewhere quiet. His furrowed brows and the space’s shadowy light made him look majorly pissed off.

“You’ve changed your mind?”

“Yeah, I think we should get married this year.”

He slumped against a wall covered in golden wallpaper, his face softening into a grin. “Fuuck, you had me! I thought you were calling it off!” He laughed. “Can’t wait to become Mrs. King, huh? Wife of a future NHL star? Yeah baby, lock me down—but why the change? Not that I’m complaining.”

“It has to be this year because I don’t—” Her breath hitched as the words got stuck in her throat. “I don’t know if—” Tears stung her eyes. “I can’t get married without Mom there.”

“Oh, of course. Of course, baby, she’ll be there. Tell you what, pick any date you want—as long it’s not in early September when rookie training camp starts. When I’m home next month, we’ll buy your ring and start planning, ’kay?”

Riley forced a deep breath into her lungs. “The ring, Josh…I can’t wear something worth thousands when my mom can’t afford her treatments.” After the proposal, Josh had said he’d help with Maggie’s bills, but Riley wanted confirmation. Say it again. It needs to be at the forefront of your mind. “I—I’d rather use the money to help her.” She exhaled, waiting for the fallout.

“O-kay…” He paused. “But I still want you to have a nice ring—” A burst of voices rose off camera, drawing Josh’s gaze. “Don’t worry. I’ll help with her bills.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” His eyes returned to her.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. All the frustration, the fear—the dread of what her future might look like—bubbled up into a chest-heaving flood of uncontrollable tears. Worried Maggie might hear, Riley grabbed a freshly laundered towel and suffocated her sobs.

“Rye?” Josh looked pained. “Babe, please don’t cry. Things will work out.” He checked his watch. “Uh, shit.” He toyed with his tie and glanced away, torn. “I have to go…”

“Where?” Riley lowered the towel and wiped her nose with her hand.

“An interview with Sports Illustrated.” He tugged the knot of his tie. “But I’ll stay if you want me to. The guys can do it without me.”

His selfless words warmed Riley’s pounding heart, but her belief in them quickly dissolved. Something lurked in his eyes. Josh had one of those faces; if you knew him well, you could read it instantly. He’s disappointed. Can I blame him? It wasn’t fair to hold him back from the rewards of his success. “No, I want you to go. You earned this, Josh. I’ll be fine. I shouldn’t be crying with Mom in the next room, anyway.”

“You sure?”

She nodded and plastered on a smile. “Enjoy Sports Illustrated. You’ll be great. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, babe. I’m really sorry I can’t be there, just too many commitments.”

“I know.”

Josh blew her a kiss and Riley tapped the disconnect button.

“Riley?” Maggie’s voice entered the room a few seconds before she did.

“Hey, Josh says hi.” She left her phone on the coffee table. “How you feeling? Are you hungry? I can make soup.”

“I feel rested, not so itchy. Soup would be amazing.”

Riley smiled and leapt up from the sofa, feeling hopeful for the first time in days.