Chapter 16

“Your pick tonight,” Mom said, handing me the remote. “Anything you want.”

I took it, trying to ignore the clamminess of her pale hand. “It’s your turn. I picked An American in Paris last week.”

She looked thoughtful, then shook her head. “Can’t think of anything, and I’m sure you’re bursting with ideas.”

Our Wednesday movie nights were a new tradition since Mom couldn’t leave the house much besides treatments at the center. Together, we had watched every English movie under the sun that contained references to Paris, many with subtitles. Mom’s way of making it up to me.

With each one, I hated Paris more and more.

“We can switch things up tonight,” I said casually. “Maybe a blow-’em-up movie or mystery this time. It doesn’t have to be about Paris.”

“Yes, it does.” Her voice sounded firmer than in a long time.

I sighed inwardly. “What sounds good, then? We can try a movie that only references Paris or has a few scenes there, like Casablanca or Anastasia . It might be easier if . . .” If we both weren’t constantly reminded of what could have been.

She gave me a firm look. “No, baby. I want us to be immersed in Paris, like you will be someday. Something wistful and romantic.”

My throat tightened, and I locked the pain away in my mental vault. “ Midnight in Paris , then? Before Sunrise ? Marie Antoinette ? Or we can do something older, like Charade . Ooh, we haven’t seen How to Steal a Million or Paris When It Sizzles in a while. You love Audrey Hepburn.” Maybe I could nudge her toward a lighthearted flick, like The Devil Wears Prada . Or something with romance and action, like The DaVinci Code or Inception . I’d even watch the Pink Panther series.

Mom gave me a long look that nearly gutted me. I knew that expression all too well. The look of a woman facing her own mortality, a woman who’d given up on her own dreams but desperately wanted to preserve the dreams of those she would leave behind.

In a moment, I knew. She didn’t care about Paris. She probably didn’t even like movies about Paris. The mini Eiffel Tower Christmas ornament from last year and the Paris T-shirt she’d given me for my birthday the year before and even the trip—it wasn’t a shared passion. It was love for her Paris-obsessed daughter. And now that her life had an expiration date, she had a lifetime of support to cram into the months that remained.

She must have seen my expression because I could see her scrambling for a happier subject. “How is Hunter these days?”

“Fine.” A lie. Things weren’t the same anymore. That night last year changed everything. The night I’d watched a comet and let him hold my hand and allowed myself to dream. Even now I couldn’t tell whether he would have let me kiss him or not. He’d leaned slightly forward, but what did that prove?

More importantly, what did it matter? The moment was long gone, and it was for the best.

Hunter had sent a hundred texts and even came by several times, but I always told Jillian to send him away. It wasn’t fair to associate him with Mom’s diagnosis and my trip being canceled. I knew that. But sometimes the heart had its own ideas.

I had plenty of grief to wallow through before I could even think about happiness.

“You’re lucky to have a friend like that,” Mom said. “He is a friend, right?”

Was he? For the past ten years, yes. But the past few months, not so much. With everyone else, I could pretend. I could put up a strong front and smile all the fake smiles. I could endure the weight of our fractured family slated to tear in half yet again in the coming months. But Hunter could see through my hastily erected fortress. He alone could carve through the illusion, straight to my heart.

I couldn’t see him. Not anytime soon.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted.

Mom nodded. “It’s hard when you know someone so well, figuring out where friendship ends and something more begins.”

I stared at my hands. Mom always sensed these things. How did she do it?

“You know what?” she said suddenly. “Let’s pull an all-nighter. Go get a notebook and pen. I could do with some kettle corn too.”

I raised an eyebrow, but I obeyed. Mom looked too tired to finish one movie, let alone several. But she had me at kettle corn, and we both knew it.

I hurried into the kitchen to heat the vegetable oil. When it started shimmering, I added the kernels and white sugar. Then I shook the pan like crazy, watching as one kernel after another popped. When the popping slowed, I removed the pot and shook it for another minute, taking in the delicious aroma. My mom’s method was the only one that got the taste right.

When I returned with a bowl and two cups, Mom sat taller in her perch on the sofa. She looked determined. On the TV, I recognized the opening credits of Sabrina .

“We’re watching all of them,” she announced. “And you’re making a list.”

I handed her a cup of still-warm kettle corn and pulled out my pen. “A list of what?” The list of Paris locations I wanted to see was already burned into my consciousness. Writing it down would break my heart all over again.

“Romantic moments in Paris,” she said. “The ones we see over and over. The type of romantic things I thought I’d get to experience and never did. But you, Kennedy,”—she leaned forward—“you will experience every single one.”

I let her words sink in. “Romantic moments? Like, um, a romantic river ride?”

“Yes.”

“Wandering cobblestone streets together in the rain?”

“Exactly. What else?”

I thought hard. “Dinner at an expensive restaurant. Coming down the stairs in a pretty dress as the man you love watches.” My tone grew more animated. “Getting serenaded at the airport as you’re trying to leave forever. ”

“You’ve got it.” Mom’s eyes shone. “Baby, you deserve all those things. Don’t you settle for anything less, like I did.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“No, this is important. Kennedy, promise me. Don’t say it unless you mean it with all your heart.”

I gripped my notebook paper tightly in both hands, feeling the gravity of this moment and knowing I would never forget it. Mom had been fooled into accepting less than she deserved from the man she loved. If the idea of my future happiness resulted in her happiness now, then I resolved to be the happiest woman in the world, just for her.

“Nothing less,” I told her. “I promise.”