For Better or Worse

“We talked about it,” he told his mom. “During this trip.”

“That’s good,” his mother said in delight. “I’m so glad. Any breakthroughs?”

Josh shrugged. “Not really. It was about what we expected. The guilt nearly ate her alive, but I think she’s finally coming around. Realizing there’s nothing she could have done. That it wasn’t her fault, all that good stuff.”

“I knew it would just take some time. It was her own battle. Nothing you or any of us could have done but give her a bit of space.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

He’d never blamed his sister. Obviously. Yes, he along with the rest of them had hoped that she might be a match. And yes, his own heart had sunk a full foot when news came back that she wasn’t.

But he’d gone on a donor list. And he’d gotten lucky. Jamie hadn’t been a match, but someone else had.

Josh’s new reality was remission, and as far as his family knew, a relapse was near impossible. The truth was between Josh and his doctors.

His own private reality, and one he wouldn’t wish on any other person he cared about.

“Can I recruit Dad to take over on drying duty?” Josh asked. “I’m thinking maybe I should rescue Heather. Grandma just started a sentence with, ‘in my day.’ I think maybe we’ve subjected her to plenty of Tanner time for her first visit.”

“Her first visit, huh? So there will be others?” his mom asked slyly.

“Yup, it’s official,” he said, tossing the towel on the counter. “I’m off dish duty.”

She laughed. “Okay, fine. Let me at least send some pie home with you two.”

By the time he and Heather were saying their good-byes at the front door, they had a hell of a lot more than pie. Turkey, white for him, dark meat for Heather. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, extra gravy, and his grandmother’s reminder that they should both learn to take smaller bites while they ate to ease their digestion.

Josh hugged his family, and Heather did the same. He noted it was a genuine, full-body hug, rather than the stilted, formal hug of a stranger. She’d gotten comfortable with his family rather quickly, and it made him . . . glad.

He liked seeing her like this. Easy. Relaxed. Happy.

“You want me to carry something?” Heather asked as they finally managed to escape his family and were walking down the quiet street toward the train station.

“I didn’t hear that offer when I was hauling your mountain of flowers on the way over.”

“If you think flowers and pie are the same thing, you’re nuts. Hand it over.”

“But you’re a wedding planner,” he said, keeping both stuffed paper bags out of her reach. “You’re supposed to love flowers.”

“And I do. But I love pie more. I’m a woman first, wedding planner second, after all.”

Josh grunted as he begrudgingly handed over one of the bags.

“I love your family,” she said, tilting her head back and looking up at the clear night sky. “You’re lucky.”

“I am,” he said in agreement. He was no fool. He knew he had it good. Yes, his mom was ­meddling and his dad’s deep-fried turkey had been a semi-­disaster, and his grandparents could be a little uptight, and his sister had sort of lost her shit when he’d gotten sick.

But they loved each other. Were there for each other, messy drama and all.

“You want to call your mom?” he asked as they climbed the stairs to the train platform.

She looked at him in surprise. “How’d you know that’s what I was thinking?”

“It’s a holiday. She’s your only family member. Not a stretch.”

“Do you mind?” she asked.

“Not at all. We’ve got a few minutes until the train gets here.”

Josh set the bags on a bench and sat down as Heather wandered away. Her mom must have picked up on the first ring. He noted Heather’s voice went up a full octave when she talked to her mom, full of enthusiasm that was . . . not false, exactly. The smile on her face was genuine as she chatted.

But there as a purposefulness about her happy tone, as though she didn’t want to let her mom know how much it stung that they hadn’t spent the holiday together.