Page 88 of The False Flat

“You mean ‘casserole,’” Deanna said. “And Marshmallow Center has a point: that casserole hardly counts.”

“I mean ‘hotdish.’ And it has vegetables!” I knew this was a stretch, since the vegetables were either in the title of the canned soup or diced and fried from a freezer bag, but I had chopped a real, live onion on Erin’s cutting board. “I may not eat as well as Grant, but—” I turned to Grant for reassurance. He had the gall to look away, suddenly fascinated by a fleck in the granite countertop.

“It’s my fault then?” I said when everyone was silent, and then I threw Grant under the bus. “I think it has more to do with the back pain than the indigestion anyway.” I turned to Deanna. “He tweaked it that day we did William’s monster ride.”

“Penelope!” Grant exclaimed.

My nose shot in the air. “Well, it’s not because of my apparent horrible food choices.”

William stood and pointed a chocolate-stained finger at Deanna and me. “First, let’s put this ‘Marshmallow Center’ business to rest.” Then he turned to Grant. “And I knew it! I knew you couldn’t handle my ride!”

Grant turned to me and threw his hands up. “Well, let’s tell them the details of my latest colonoscopy while we’re at it!”

“You got a colonoscopy?” William was in full hazing mode, likely overcompensating because of the marshmallow comments.

“Wow. I wish I hadn’t said that. Given our extended family’s cancer history, my doc suggested one.”

This silenced William and completely arrested me. I didn’t know any of this. What did it say about our relationship? Should he have told me? I forced an inhale and counted to ten to stop my mind from racing long enough to realize why Grant wouldn’t have told me.

Cancer. He knew about Brandon. He’d seen my freak-out session at the hospital. He was probably worried about what I’d do if he did tell me. And I couldn’t blame him, because even at the sudden shift in the conversation, I was shaking inside.

His eyes met mine for a few seconds, and then he looked back at Deanna, who was actively frowning.

“You’re still having back pain?” Deanna looked at her brother much like she would a suspicious science experiment.

William walked between us and Grant.

“Ladies, my handsome friend here simply hurt his back and has a little indigestion. Let’s cut the old man some slack. He’s ancient, but he’s not dying, for goodness’ sake.”

“Just when I was struggling to remember why we were friends.” Grant patted William’s shoulder.

A sly smile slid onto William’s mouth. “Can’t take my pick, though, huh?”

“Here we go!” Grant wagged a finger. “Oh, I can take it, it’s you that—”

“Have you seen a doctor?” Deanna asked, as if the men hadn’t been talking. “It could be a bulging disc, herniated even. A friend of mine had to have surgery because—”

He closed his eyes. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

Deanna nodded, relief softening her features.

“Now can we drop this for the evening?” he asked. “I love attention, but this isn’t the kind I want.”

We returned to the living room, and as we played games I no longer felt like playing and ate brownies I no longer felt like eating, Deanna’s words played over and over in my head.

Have you seen a doctor? Seen a doctor? A doctor?

We’d been messing around until Deanna had gone serious, which I didn’t like because it reminded me of orgasmic Piper saying Grant’s aura was off.

CHAPTER 32

LIFE REALIZATION #14: SOMETIMES YOU CAN’T DO IT BY YOURSELF. WELL, NOT IT. JUST . . . UGH.

“Grant! Please open the door!” The neighbors would likely be calling the police at any minute, but it was ten in the morning, and I hadn’t heard from Grant since game night the previous evening. I’d let his slightly awkward goodbye and Deanna’s doctor comment and everything else get under my skin.

Nothing was wrong.

He was fine.