Page 32 of Healing You
Her phone rang just as she turned the car off. Carrie. With the race day and adoption event rapidly approaching, she had no choice but to answer. Especially since Carrie knew Tuesdays were chemo days in the morning. She knew better than to call unless it was really important.
“Carrie, what's up?”
“He signed up for the run.”
Yvonne felt taken aback and confused all at once. “Steve? I know, he told me weeks ago. I mean, he's hosting the damn thing, I assumed—”
“Not him. Your ex—Jonah.”
“Jonah's running in the race?” But—that didn't even make sense. In all their time together, she'd never seen him run once. Sure, he worked out. But he always felt like running would strip the muscles he worked so hard to build. “When did he sign up?”
“This morning. Just now.”
The icy grip on her heart she always felt when Jonah came to her attention took hold once more. It was another grand gesture—just like the flowers and the chocolates. She'd seen him around town a few times; in an effort to not live her life for another thirteen years as she had with Steve, she did her best to give cordial smiles and the occasional wave back if he initiated a greeting first. But that was it. That's as far as she'd taken it. She hadn't even said a physical word to him or her parents since that disastrous dinner.
Yvonne took a deep breath, calming that tremor of frustration she was so familiar with when Jonah was around. “Well, it's an open event. Anyone who wants to be there has the right to sign up.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Carrie said. “I just wanted to make sure you knew and were…I don't know.
Okay.”
“Of course.” She paused for a moment, a breath catching in her throat. “But, if he fills out any paperwork to adopt an animal, we need to be sure it's because he actually wants one. Not because he's trying to impress me.”
“You think he would actually do that?”
She shrugged, even though no one but Gatsby was around to see it. “I don't know. If it's all a ploy to win me back, show me he's turned a new leaf or something, he might.” From the other end of the line, she could practically hear Carrie's protective growl. “It'll be fine, Carrie. Seriously. He's probably just being supportive.”
“Supportive? Or suffocating?” her friend sneered. “Remember the last event he came to—and tried to circumvent?”
God, how could she forget? He arrived thirty minutes late and started ordering everyone around, rearranging the seating chart in a way that he approved of—never mind the fact that Yvonne had asked him a million times in the months leading up to it to have a look at her seating chart since most of the high priced plates were bought by people at his and her father's law firm. Nope, he didn't have time to help when it made sense. Only when it was on his terms.
“Well, now he especially has no place. And it will be way more casual. Not his people, not his atmosphere, like the catered dinner was.”
“I hope you're right.”
Gatsby nudged her shoulder, his tail whipping wildly around as he saw Steve come out the front door of his practice, waving at them. “Okay, I gotta go, Carrie. We'll discuss it more later.”
Yvonne got out of her car, not bothering to hold onto Gatsby's leash as he bounded over toward Steve, prancing around happily.
Steve pulled out a gourmet dog cookie from Tanja's pet store. It was in the shape of bacon and eggs and Gatsby gobbled the treat. “I think this is the only dog that seems to look forward to his chemo treatments.”
“It's because you give him too many treats.” She rubbed Gatsby's belly.
“Nah.” Steve shooed the air. “One special treat a week can't hurt.”
“Except that you also bring them when we go running and when Lex gives you day-old bagels, and when Elsa gives you scraps—”
“Well, I can't give them all to Molly!”
Yvonne followed as Steve led the way back to the exam room, shutting the door behind him. “So, what's on the docket today?” she asked, taking her seat and iced coffee as per usual.
“We've got a cytotoxic injection today.”
Yvonne shrugged. “In English, please.”
“Normally, entering the third week, I see most dogs go into remission.” Steve bent, feeling around Gatsby's lymph nodes and taking his heart rate.
That same tightness in her chest came back with a fury. “But he's not yet, is he?”
