Page 6 of Fall Twice

I shrug my shoulders. “My dad gave me his old Ferrari, and I love it.”

“I can only imagine. You don’t have kids and I know you hate pets, so the car works. Your family good?”

“Same old, thanks for asking. Hey, don’t you still see Annie?”

Lena smiles brightly. “I do. We live near one another. She’s a bit angry that I’m leaving, but she’ll visit. She is also in academia, psychology.”

“Good.”

“How are you, Reid? I mean…” She debates what to say. “It’s been years, and I feel like nothing yet everything has changed. What have you been up to the last few years?”

“Enjoying life. Seeing great concerts, exploring the city, collecting bottles of wine. The usual, you know.”

She shakes her head at me. “You ordered gingerbread coffee. Something must have changed because in college it was either beer or black coffee. Next, you’re going to tell me that you have a tattoo or adopted a cat.”

Christ, she sees right through me.

“No cat, or tattoo. Life has just been busy.”

She doesn’t seem to buy it. “Okay, fair enough. We haven’t really spoken in person in ten years, so everything is kind of strange. I mean, here I am just showing up out of the blue telling you that I’m divorced and moving here. Kind of crazy if you think about it.”

“You’ve always been quirky.”

Her head falls into her hand. “I just… wow, here we are. I kind of thought I would never see you again.”

“Me too.” For reasons she doesn’t know.

“What does that mean?” She perks her head up.

Honesty with her only feels right.

“I had cancer.”

The barista arrives. “Another coffee?”

Lena’s face drops and she blinks a few times, and I notice her chest move up and down.

My gaze doesn’t part from Lena as I answer the barista. “I think we could use another round, thanks.”

Lena’s eyes connect with my own, and for the first time in the longest time, I feel like someone won’t let go.

3

REID

The new round of coffees is placed in front of us. Lena hasn’t said anything, she just looks at me with eyes hazed, and I reach my hand out to touch her arm to reassure her.

“I’m fine now. It’s gone.”

She clears her throat. “I had no idea.”

“Not many people did.”

“You could have died.” Her voice is emotional.

I smile weakly. “Nah, I’m not that easy to get rid of.” A long moment of silence lingers between us. “It was testicular, caught early at a routine check-up, and yeah, I still have my balls intact,” I attempt to joke and release my hand, feeling a loss of her warmth against my skin.

Her gaze slides down ever so gently then back up at me. “Chemo?”

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