The Speed of Light: A Novel(59)

I’m not sure how many more surprises I can take. “So, do you . . . do you think he’s over her?”

“Oh yeah, totally.” Arielle doesn’t hesitate, which should be more of a comfort than it is. “Don’t let that shitty slideshow fool you. Diana was the queen of looking perfect, and maybe she was, sort of, but she was a little too perfect, if you ask me. You know what I mean?”

I don’t know, but I nod anyway because I desperately want her to be right. I need the nagging doubt planted in my mind to stop growing.

We stare into the stars again, and I wish they could tell me my future. Whether I’m making the right choices about my health, my relationship. Whether delaying treatment will be worse for me in the end.

And whether delaying the inevitable conversation with Connor will only make things hurt more in the long run.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

We’re on our way home at last, and in the darkness of the truck I make a point to stare out the window, refusing to make eye contact with Connor. We don’t speak at all for the first thirty miles, but he doesn’t seem to notice until about mile twenty. I can tell that he notices because he starts to fidget with the music, ask random questions. I’m able to respond with one-word answers, so I can prolong my silence.

“Need to make a bathroom stop?”

“No.”

“Should we stop for gas at the truck stop in Summit?”

“Sure.”

Finally, after forty-five minutes, he sighs. “Look, since you’re not talking to me, can I tell you about something?”

I frown but I’m curious, so I look over. His eyes are twinkling. “Uh, sure.”

Connor takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about how I could still finish my degree, even open up a bar, and I was kind of coming around to the idea, and, well, I was talking to Dr. Fritz today—did you meet him?”

He was the jerk who thought I was drunk. I nod, biting back the sarcasm.

“He’s a professor at a private college in Saint Paul, and he was telling me about their online business degree. He convinced me to apply.”

I suck in a breath. “Wow.”

“I know. It’ll mean that I’ll be really busy between work and homework and everything, but we’ll make it work, right?” He doesn’t stop to let me answer, his mind buzzing. “Everything is online, but they do require an on-campus visit one week during the summer, for orientation.” He stops, glances over. “It’s next week.”

My eyes widen. “Next week?”

“I know, it’s so soon—obviously they can’t process my application that quickly, so I’m not technically enrolled yet, but Dr. Fritz said I could sit in on this current session. It’ll give me a head start, help me make some contacts for possible internships—get my foot in the door.”

His eyes are pleading, and God, he is glowing with excitement. I can’t help but smile. “That’s amazing, Connor.”

He beams and reaches for my hand, but then he sighs, his smile fading. “Look, I am so sorry about the stupid slideshow.”

“You never told me you were engaged.”

His head whips over. “What?”

I meet his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks away, shrugs, but his face is red. “You never asked,” he says quietly.

“How would I have known to specifically ask that?” My voice rises, and he flinches. “It seems like something you would’ve volunteered.”

“I just . . . didn’t think it was important. Not anymore. Ancient history.” He looks over again, his eyes sincere, but I wait for those magic words. “I’m sorry.”

My shoulders relax and I nod. He reaches for my hand. “Honestly, I forgot about that part of the slideshow because I haven’t watched it in years. Cam and I would usually skip out and keep drinking. But I have to say, it was really nice seeing all those old pictures of him.”

I squeeze his hand. “You were pretty cute when you were a kid.”

“Right? I mean, overall it wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“Oh no, I truly enjoyed the ‘Connor and Diana Montage of Love.’”

He sighs. “Look, I asked Mom to take those pictures out of the slideshow. Next year will be better, okay?”

Next year. I try to cover my apprehension with a strained smile.

He narrows his eyes. “Okay, what else did I screw up?”

I take a deep breath, but I can’t do it—I can’t bring myself to repeat what his mom said. How she made me fear he is with me out of some sort of obligation, out of some need to help, to be a fixer.

I’m also afraid of the answer, of seeing the truth in his eyes.

“I’m just tired.” I turn toward the window and stare into the darkness.



Soon the bright lights of Sioux Falls twinkle ahead of us. When Connor pulls into the parking lot of my apartment building and shuts the engine off, I clear my throat, stare up at the tan three-story building, aging but sturdy. “You don’t need to come in.”

He looks over in surprise. “Oh. I thought I would stay tonight?”

I shrug, but it’s stiff. “It’s late. We both have to work in the morning.”