He flopped to his back. “I’m awake now.”
It was her turn to curl into him. She hummed and ran her palm gently over his warm skin. “Oh no...whatever will we do?”
He twisted and pinned her, his hands pressing into her wrists as his arousal prodded her belly. Smirking, his eyes darkened with desire. “Good morning, cakes.”
“Good morning, my love.”
His mouth dropped to her shoulder, nibbling and kissing a trail to her throat. “This is my favorite spot,” he mumbled, voice muffled against her skin.
They rolled around under the covers, giggling and teasing until they were eventually panting and writhing. Despite all her personal hang-ups, she’d found her way back to a place of acceptance where closeness was concerned.
As their bodies stretched together, her nails dug into his shoulders. Breathing through those climactic moments was once again like walking through the rain, soft, peaceful, invigorating, like being reborn.
Once they climbed out of bed and showered, they dedicated the day to online browsing. Rarity was compiling a list of suppliers while Riley was perusing real estate. Emma didn’t have the focus they had so she spent most of her morning perusing shoes, not that she’d be buying any, but it was fun to look.
Her obsession with footwear developed during the early stages of her recovery. Shoes were sexy and her feet sometimes seemed her most feminine asset, despite her hobbit toes, which she still argued were shaped perfectly normal.
Spotting a pop up ad, she gave up her shoe search—like she’d ever wear heels that high anyway—and clicked on the banner sporting a pink ribbon. It was a race, right there in New York. She scanned the details and a fire built in her belly. How cool would it be to be a part of that?
“I want to do this,” Emma said, turning her laptop so Rarity and Riley could see.
Riley looked up from his iPad and squinted at the picture on the screen of her laptop. “A walk?”
“That’s a lot of pink,” Rarity commented.
“It’s a 5K for breast cancer and I want to do it. I think I can.”
Riley reached forward and scrolled down the page. “What do the proceeds go toward? What sort of research and what percentage—”
“Stop.” She pulled the laptop out of his reach and took a breath. “I’m telling you, I want to do this. I don’t care if one percent goes to researching what shade of pink looks best on a miter saw. I’m doing it.”
“There are other races—”
She turned her laptop away from them and navigated her way to the sign up page. She understood some charities donated more than others, but every penny earned was money that wasn’t there yesterday.
“Emma, no one’s telling you not to walk—”
“Yes, you are, Riley.” She kept her eyes on the computer, already typing in her information. “You think if it isn’t distributing funds exactly where you believe they should go then it’s pointless. It’s not. Every cent, even the pennies, counts.”
“I think we’re just frustrated with the exploitation of pink and the lack of advancement,” Rarity defended.
Emma shut her laptop and scowled at them. “I’m pink.”
She wasn’t sure when her opinion of the color changed or why, but she now took offense to outsiders putting down the pink as much as she took offense to corporations abusing the color. What she once criticized she now understood. Despite all the exploitation, there was something intangible behind the pink, a sense of connectedness, and she wanted to embrace that camaraderie.
“You don’t get it,” she explained. “A few months ago I was incapable of walking to the bathroom without help. Today I’m considering miles.” Her eyes moistened and she was taken aback by the passionate satisfaction surging through her battered but strong body.
She smiled. “I want to do this walk because I can. I want to do it for all the people that can’t and I will gladly pay my dues and wear my colors and support the cause because support doesn’t just come in dollars and cents. It comes from here.” Her hand rested on her breast. “I’m proud of the distance I’ve come and all the care my doctors gave me, and I’m thankful for all of you that got me through hell and back when all I wanted to do was stop fighting. I want to celebrate the empowering truth of survival with other survivors and they’re going to be at that race.”
Her head lowered. “I know the system has flaws. I know the treatment isn’t perfect. But something’s working, because I’m here. You can’t improve anything from the outside looking in. So, like I said, I’m going to do this race.”
No one said anything as her words resonated in the silent room. She wasn’t poetic or any sort of brave activist. She was just a girl, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t contribute in some way.
“Sign me up,” Riley quietly said.
“Me too.” Rarity nodded.
Emma smiled. Sometimes it wasn’t about politics or percentages. Sometimes it was just about people. “Thanks, guys.”
****
The morning of the race was sweltering. The three of them rummaged around the kitchen for granola and coffee foraging like sleepy little squirrels. By the time they made it out the door they were only placidly awake.
Emma’s excitement churned at the first pink cone they passed. Streets were marked off and tents were erected. “It’s so cool how they close down roads for this.”
The closer they walked to the registration area the higher her energy climbed. A vibe pulsed with excitement, making her jittery and alert. Ditching the last of her coffee, she scanned the area, wanting to take in the entire experience.
Clusters and pairings of people bedecked in pink clogged the walkways as a ruckus of voices filled the air and microphones squeaked. The first strand of music came from an enormous speaker in the distance, as the recognizably upbeat tune by the band Rusted Root played.
Infused with vitality, she grinned at her friends and bounced to the familiar tune. Rarity rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smirk. The flutes sang as percussions tapped and strangers bounced to the music of Send Me On My Way.
Riley sauntered beside her, bopping his head to the music. He reached for her hand and she stretched for Rarity’s as the three of them, and Marla, found their place in line.
More upbeat music continued to play as the crowd thickened. It was amazing how many people had gathered all for one purpose. Her throat tightened as she had the urge to hug and thank every single person there. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. They just kept coming.
“Emma?”
She turned at the familiar voice and her chest filled with warmth. “Anna?”
“How are you?” her friend asked, taking her into an affectionate hug.
“I’m...great. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
She waved off her surprise with a typical Anna grin. “This is my shtick. These are my peeps. See that handsome fellow over there?”
Emma craned her neck, spotting a tattooed hottie waiting in line behind Riley. “Yeah.”
Anna winked. “He’s mine.”
Thrilled for her friend she beamed. “You’re dating!”
“Yes, ma’am. Turns out I’m good at it too. We’re coming up on our two month anniversary.”
“That’s fabulous! We should go out, the four of us.”
Anna tapped her hand. “I see you’ve upgraded.”
Glancing at her engagement ring, another rush of warmth hit her chest. “Yes.” She smiled. “The wedding’s in September. I’d love for you to be there—and your boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Riley’s one of the great ones.”
She glanced at him as he paid for their passes and her heart did a little jig. “He is.”
“Well, I have to get back to my people before I get yelled at for taking off. I have a habit of floating wherever the wind blows. I’ll see you at the finish?”
“Definitely.” She hugged her friend tight.
“Tell Riley I said hi and nice w
ork on the ring. You’re going to be a stunning bride.”
“I will.”
Rarity returned from her search for a porta-potty. “Who was that?”
“That’s my Anna. I love her.”
“The one from the oncologist’s office?”
Emma nodded. “The one and only.”
Riley approached, handing them each a pink shirt. “We’re in. Was that Anna?”
“Yeah, I invited her to the wedding.”
“Awesome. I miss seeing her.” He handed his sister her pink shirt.
Rarity grimaced at the fuchsia T and took a deep breath. “The things I do for you...”
Riley stuffed his arms into the shirt and shoved it over his head. “Oh, shut up and be a girl for once. I don’t know about you, but I look fabulous in pink.”
Rarity grudgingly put on her pink T and Emma—prepared and waiting—snapped a picture. “That’s going online.”
“I hate you,” Rarity grumbled, but smiled as she rolled her eyes. “Let’s do this.”
On their journey to the starting line they were treated to incredible hospitality. People fed them, hydrated them, gave them high fives, colored their hair, and pinned and painted them with pink flair. Even Marla got a pink bandana.
“I look like the Easter Bunny threw up on me,” Rarity laughed.
Emma shook her head. “Admit it. It’s not that bad.”
“It’s not. I think I’m tapping into some deep-seated girl part of me I’ve been repressing since I started playing with Riley’s GI Joe figures.”
“There’s a lady over there giving away oatmeal cookies the size of my face,” Riley interrupted. “We need to get one before they’re all gone.”
Emma glanced at the crowd moving toward the main tent. “But people are lining up.”
“I really need that cookie, Emma!”
She laughed. “Okay. Rarity, we’ll meet you down there,” she called as he dragged her toward the big cookie. He was so happy once he had it in his hands and the jerk only gave her a teeny, tiny bite.
The race started with a flood of bodies moving through the streets of Manhattan like the bulls moving through Spain. Thankfully, the pace was much slower.
Men, women, seniors, pets, and children all walked and chatted. By the end of the first mile Emma had shared bits of her story with a few new friends and heard parts of their stories as well.
Organizers cheered them on and music played throughout. The mood never lulled. Rest stops were positioned at various intervals and water was distributed frequently.
As the sun beamed overhead her skin slicked with sweat. Rarity and Riley didn’t seem quite as winded as her, but she was proud to be keeping pace with the others. The humidity was so thick, she had one of those strange moments she appreciated being just past bald, because her old hair would have been a gigantic frizz ball in this weather.
During the second mile, the gods must have taken pity on them. The sun continued to beam overhead, but with the heat came cooling drops of rain. The drizzle didn’t cease until they crossed the third mile. Her clothing was saturated and hanging sloppily from her frame. All the face paint had dribbled into smears, tinting the collars of their shirts.
“We’re almost there,” Riley yelled over the pumping music.
She glanced at Rarity who was wearing an expression of determination and pride, her sprayed pink hair washing down her neck in a trail of sweat and rain. Emma’s heart pinched.
For all of her stubbornness and indifference, Rarity was just as fragile as the rest of them. To Rarity’s way of thinking, she was never very good at being a girl, but that didn’t excuse her from the perils. When it came to this, they were all on the same team.
As the finish came into view, something came over Emma, and she did something she hadn’t done in a year. She ran. Her legs ached and her sneakers squished with every step, but she crossed that line no matter how much she wanted to collapse.
She did it. She made it to the other side.
They were each given medals of achievement. Even Marla got a pin for her collar. As she turned and stared back at the people still finishing, the entire event suddenly took her breath away. Not because she was winded or tired, but because it was absolutely beautiful.
Her throat tightened as she rubbed a hand over her short curls and laughed to herself. Every person that passed—and not a single one frowning—overwhelmed her.
She didn’t care about the blister on her foot anymore than the spectators on the sidelines cared about the rain. The devotion and love was palpable. Her chin trembled as she worked to process such a remarkable sight. So many strangers united to embrace hope. It was simply awesome to be a part of such solidarity after going through something as isolating as cancer.
“I got you a water,” Riley said as he jogged over. “Hey, you okay?”
She nodded and wiped her eyes. “I’m fabulous.” And she was.
Looking at the bottle, she laughed as her fingers easily untwisted the cap, recalling a day when she lacked the strength. That plastic lid was her undoing as she held the suddenly significant cap out to him and smiled through her tears. “I did it.”
“Yeah, you did.” He grinned and pulled her in for a top of the line Riley hug. “You did great, cakes.”
Did he understand? Did he know that a few months ago her mouth had burned like acid and she had to work up the strength to merely ask her mother to open her water bottle? She believed he did. She believed he truly got how monumental this day was for her.
If anyone understood cancer, it was those who loved its victims. Maybe they understood it more than the people suffering. Riley had memories she couldn’t recall, moments when she was too lost to the pain and medication to view reality with lucid accuracy. But he was there through all of it, always by her side.
Her arms tightened around him. “You’re my rock, Riley,” she whispered.
He stilled as if her words triggered something monumental then he tipped his head, his gaze skating to the ground as a smile pulled at his lips. He looked at her, such genuine happiness in his eyes. “I love you, Emma.”
She wasn’t sure why, but it was a significant moment, a moment of clarity and understanding. It was too much to process surrounded by so many people. Clearing her throat, she pulled at her damp curls. “I must look scary.”
“You look beautiful.”
She laughed and wrung out her shirt. His unwavering reassurance was as dependable as rain. No matter what, it would always come. “Where’s your sister?”
He pointed. “She’s making friends.”
Rarity gathered with a group of young women all decked out in pink. Someone gave her a long fuchsia wig as they posed for pictures. She had a feeling her friend would be back the next time a walk came around, pink laces tied in little bows.
“Emma?”
She turned and stepped back as her system took a shock, the muscles in her face going instantly numb. “Becket?” Wow, she hadn’t thought of him in ages. Her gaze drifted to the buildings surrounding them. They’d finished just outside of his complex.
“Your hair...” he glanced at all the people as if just noticing an event was taking place.
She laughed and nervously brushed a hand over her head. “Yeah.” Feeling a bit exposed, she said, “I went short last January.”
“I heard...you were sick.”
“I was, but I’m doing great today.” The longer she looked at him the sillier it seemed to be self-conscious. Who was Becket? He was no more special than anyone else there. “How are you?”
He seemed thrown off by her high spirit. “I’m...the same. Good.”
“Good. How’s Goldie?” The question didn’t hurt like it might have a few months ago.
His attention dropped to her chest and darted back to her face. “Um, Goldie’s good. We’re actually getting married next year.”
She smiled, understanding this other woman was a better match for him than she’d ever been. Besides, she found her
perfect match. “I’m glad you’re happy, Becket.”
He looked at her left hand. “You’re engaged.”
“Yup. We say ‘I do’ in two months.”
“Wow.” He stared at her like a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Had he always viewed her that way?
“You seem so happy,” he observed.
“I am. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Becket.” They turned as Goldie, with her familiar tinted tan and platinum blonde hair, approached. She was indeed pretty. Emma could admire her beauty without deducting points from her own esteem now.
“I don’t believe we’ve been officially introduced. I’m Emma. This is my fiancé, Riley.”
“Nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Goldie.”
“Well, we should probably be going,” Becket said, appearing uncomfortable in the presence of both his future wife and ex-fiancée.
“It was nice meeting you,” Goldie smiled, her teeth perfect and white as snow.
“You too. Congrats on the engagement.” Once they disappeared in the crowd she faced Riley. “Wow. I didn’t feel anything when I saw them. I mean nothing. Not anger, jealousy, insecurity. I just...feel happy.”
“That’s awesome, cakes.”
Rarity skipped over and slung her arm over her brother’s shoulders. “Hey, did I just see Becket and Barbie?”
“Yeah.”
“Man,” Rarity shook her head. “I am so glad you dodged that bullet. Let’s go eat. I’m starved.”
They went to lunch at a local pub and overheard the bartender talking about a building in his neighborhood that would likely be torn down because the buyer backed out at the last minute. Riley glommed onto the conversation and asked questions beyond the bartender’s knowledge, so the man made some calls and got Riley the realtor’s phone number.
On the cab ride home, they took a detour past the property. It was in a nice location, but the building was in need of some love and care. As they lay in bed that night, Riley seemed unable to sleep.
“The price was lowered again last week. I don’t think we’ll have an issue getting the sale so long as we want it.”