“There are all kinds of theories and trials. We can try some diet changes. My dad was friends with an oncologist that was studying this Swedish scientist that was having breakthroughs with dietary adjustments. Vitamin C in large doses is crazy. They can put it in you intravenously and it swarms the cancer. I’ve seen it happen through studies.” My head shakes as I try to sift through the onslaught of ideas that are storming through my brain.

“Harper, you can’t fix everything. That’s not your responsibility.”

“I’m not trying to fix everything. I’m trying to fix this. Please, let me.”

“S’il vous plaît essayer.”

My body stiffens, feeling as though a ghost has just appeared. It takes me several blinks to see Kitty’s husband clearly and longer than it should to translate his gruff voice racing in French, pleading with Kitty to listen to me and to try.

After a long pause I add, “S’il vous plaît essayer.”

Kitty’s eyes and her husband’s turn to me with surprise as I plead with her to try. “My dad spoke French fluently,” I quietly explain.

After a while, Kitty agrees to allow me to reach out to different doctors and is willing to discuss an alternative route of treatment.

I spend the day at her house, calling up old associates and friends of my father’s and working through his network to direct me to several specialists that agree to help because of knowing my dad. Her husband, Jeff, and I speak in French without either of us ever agreeing to do so, and it feels good to pull it out, and stretch it across my tongue.

“Beware lest you lose the substance by grasping at the shadow.”

–Aesop

Fitz rubs my shoulders and I take a deep breath while scrolling down to Kendall’s name. I’ve already called my mom and the rest of my sisters and apologized to them for leaving without so much as a warning, but I’ve saved Kendall for last, knowing that I’ve likely hurt her the most.

“Are you okay?” she asks after the second ring.

“I’m doing better. How are you?”

“I understand why you left, Ace. Max told me what happened.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. I know I told you all to stop walking on egg shells and that I had grown, and wouldn’t do it again, I just needed to leave.”

“I know, and I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I admit with a shaky breath. “I think right now I just need to focus on finding me. Realizing who I am and becoming comfortable with that.”

Fitz gives me a comforting squeeze and then moves to the kitchen.

“I just wish you could do that here. But I understand and I support you. I love you, and I will support you regardless of your choices, but I want you to know something about Max.”

“Okay…”

“He and Erin broke up. He told me he ended things with her the day that Fitz arrived, but had wanted to do it for a while. Jameson says he thinks he never even wanted to be with her and I know he’s right. I just want to make sure that you know.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty relieved actually.” I let out a breath and roll my eyes to argue with her, but she beats me to it. “You shouldn’t hate him for her. I think when you left all of his insecurities about not being loved came crashing back, and I think he was desperate. He needed to be wanted, when really, he wanted to be needed.”

“I don’t hate him. I sometimes wish that I could.” I can feel Fitz’s curiosity from across the room where he’s now measuring my living room. Although he isn’t actually looking at me, he hasn’t moved a muscle since my admittance. “I need some dad advice. He was always so good at this stuff, you know?”

“You still have your letter, you should read it. Maybe it will help?”

“Maybe.” We both know my answer is a dismissal.

“I’m going to look at tickets tomorrow. I’ve got some time off in September, and this time, I’ll make the trek out to see you.”

“I’d like that,” I admit with a smile.

“I love you too, Ace.”

“I love you too.”

Fitz makes his way over to where I’m sitting on the floor and kneels beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he holds me. It’s like he knows it’s exactly what I need.

I begin my normal regime of seeing Kitty again on Wednesday afternoon. I spend the entire hour talking. She doesn’t have to prompt me for emotions or ask me how things make me feel, or why. I just talk. And talk. And talk. I start off by telling her about seeing my dad and how my mom and I have essentially smoothed things over. I tell her about Sarah’s miscarriage and how that triggered me from both the loss and being in the hospital. I tell her about Nate and what actually occurred that night. I talk through tears that I don’t make even the slightest attempt to hold back, realizing that my tears aren’t making me vulnerable or weak—they’re making me strong because I’m crying them knowing that things can, and will get better.

Not once within the hour does she interrupt me, or ask me to elaborate, or dissect the emotions that I list to her. She allows me to pause when I need to catch my breath and sort through my feelings and waits me to force myself to continue.

I end the session realizing that Kendall’s right. I have pushed things away that I don’t want to face, not always because I’m afraid, but because I don’t want to disappoint others, and in doing so I’ve managed to hurt those that I care about the most.

It’s a Saturday night and I’m wearing a deep purple cocktail dress adorned with a pair of heels that Fitz had convinced me to buy while we were in New York for Thanksgiving. They’re teal and have a peacock feather painted on the sides in deep purple hues. I loved them instantly and feel happy to finally be wearing them. I spend a little extra time on my appearance, pulling my hair into an updo, lining my eyes, and shading my eyelids. I haven’t spent this much time getting ready for anything in Delaware before, and feel a little excited to be taking a small step in allowing myself to move forward.

My doorbell rings at 7:50 p.m. and I slide my coat on before face Danny.

His blue eyes widen slightly as I pull the door fully open. He got back late last night from being in Oklahoma for the last week but had called and texted each day to touch base.

“You look amazing!” he says, his eyes dancing around me like they’re not sure what they want to continue looking at. “I mean, you’re always gorgeous, but you … wow. I don’t think I can be away from you for that long again.” He wraps me in his arms, and I feel the warmth of him emanate through his light green button down shirt.

“You look pretty great yourself.”

His dimples stamp deeper into his cheeks as his smile grows, and without hesitation he leans forward and kisses me. It takes me a beat to stop the guilt from rising through me, and then I kiss him back, allowing my lips to linger on his as my neighbor across the landing opens her door.

A fading bruise along his right cheek has my fingers gently tracing over the tender area, but he shakes his head and wraps his fingers around mine. “It’s nothing. I don’t care about any of it. I just want to focus on you tonight.”

This afternoon Fitz had come over and listened to me as I talked through each of my concerns about starting something with Danny when I’m obviously far from being over my feelings for Max. Fitz encouraged me to talk to Danny about everything since he knew about the breakup from the very beginning.