“This party’s for you, right?”

Nessa shrugs again. “It’s not really a party. It’s so people can give me money so I don’t have to be sick anymore.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Tommy asks, fist frozen in the air as he turns to her.

“That’s not nice, Tommy,” Josh cuts in. “You shouldn’t ask people those things. Apologize to Nessa.”

“It’s okay,” she says, taking Tommy’s pile of Play-Doh and adding it to hers. “I have leukemia.” It comes out as “wookemia.”

“But you’re so pretty,” Tommy tells her.

I smile into Josh’s arm while Nessa’s cheeks darken. “Fanks.”

“Your hair’s pretty.”

A frown pulls on Nessa’s lips. “It’s not my real hair. It’s a wig.”

Tommy finally lowers his arm. “Oh.”

Nessa turns to him, her voice soft. “I like your earring.”

“Thanks!” Tommy smiles brightly at her. “Can I see you without the wig?”

“Tommy!” Josh whisper yells.

Tommy’s eyes snap to his. “What?”

Nessa removes the wig and hands it to Tommy. There’s very little hair left on her head from the chemo she’s endured.

Tommy tilts his head, taking in Nessa in all her shy but beautiful glory. “My Aunt Chloe got sick and lost her hair,” Tommy tells her. “She had cancer.”

Nessa nods, her eyes cast downward. “That’s what I have.”

Tommy places the wig on his head, causing Nessa to giggle into her sleeve. “Do I look good?” he asks her, tugging on the ends.

Nessa giggles. “You look like a girl.”

“Your smile is pretty, too,” Tommy says. “And I don’t think you need the wig. You’re pretty without it.” Wow. Kid’s throwing some game.

I don’t realize Nessa’s made a heart from the Play-Doh until she hands it to Tommy. “You’re nice to me,” she tells him.

Tommy takes it from her, as careful as he can, and stares at it a long time. Then he looks up. “Hey. You want to be my girl?”

“Oh God,” Josh mumbles.

“Okay!” Nessa yells.

And just like that, they walk away, hand-in-hand.

“What the hell just happened?” Josh mumbles. “He tells her she’s pretty and now they’re what? Dating? Is he dating? He’s six! He can’t be—oh no.” He turns to me, his eyes wide. “I have approximately ten years before… shit, Becca. I’m not ready for this.”

“Relax,” I sign, rolling my eyes at him. “He’s just crushing on a girl.”

“Yep. I’m going to be a grandpa.”

* * *

Tommy ends up taking a photo with Nessa and with the help of Ella, he uploads it to his Instagram with a link to both Nessa’s and Say Something’s GoFundMe pages. It takes no more than five minutes for Nessa’s page to raise ten thousand dollars, the amount Tommy had asked for in order for him to shave his hair. Comments flood both his Instagram and the GoFundMe page from people stating they would double their donations if his dad would do it, too. Which, of course, Josh does.

Later, in the parking lot, a newly cropped Josh asks Tommy where he learned his smooth moves with the ladies, to which Tommy responds, shrugging, “Nico taught me.” He ticks off each item with his finger. “Tell a girl she’s pretty. Say something about her hair, her smile, her ass, and she’s all yours.”

A total of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars is raised that day, all thanks to a little boy wanting to take care of his girl.

32

—Joshua—

Lunch with Becca and her dad goes smoothly. Martin and my mother make up most of the conversation with music that was popular “in their day,” while Tommy shows Becca what all he’s learned with ASL.

Mom managed to get an online tutor for him who video chats with us once a week. He’s a specialist, working mainly with sudden hearing-impaired children, so it works really well for Tommy. Once Tommy starts to get really comfortable with reading and spelling, he’ll probably end up knowing more than I do.

Watching Tommy have to say goodbye to Becca sucks, to say the least. Becca and I are meeting her friends tonight and I have to leave early in the morning, so that doesn’t leave much time for them. “But why can’t I stay here with you?” Tommy asks. Over and over. Becca hugs him, seeming as disappointed as Tommy is. I can see her questioning her choices, wondering if it’s possible to change her plans, but her determination wins out and she promises Tommy that she’ll be all his in just two days. She even promises to have a sleepover with him in the fort, something I have a feeling won’t go down too well once she realizes just how open it is. She hates anything small that flies. With a passion. To the point where she’ll give you radio-silent treatment for an entire week if you place an innocent dead moth on her pillow.

I learned that the hard way.

Tommy and my mother leave with just enough time for Becca to make herself prettier, if that’s possible. She showers, gets dressed, and dabs on what little make up she wears while I sit on the edge of her bed and watch, because I can’t not. “Is this a fancy thing? Because I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I don’t really do well with fancy. It’s either casual or full tux with me.”

She quirks an eyebrow and covers her wrist with a gajillion bracelets. Then signs, the metal of her bangles clanking against each other, “You’ve worn a full…” she pauses… her hands frozen. Then she spells out, “T U X?”

“I have,” I answer defensively. “Once. At my uncle Rob’s wedding.”

She rolls her eyes. “How are they?” she signs.

“My aunt and uncle?”

She nods, moving toward me, her hips swaying, before sitting sideways on my lap. She signs, “I like them.”

“Well, my uncle’s gone a little crazy and my aunt’s the size of a house.” Becca’s eyes widen, causing me to chuckle. “Three rounds of IVF later, she’s finally pregnant. They’re going to name him Josh.”

“Shut up,” she mouths.

“I’m kidding. About the Josh thing. But she really is pregnant. She’s due in a couple weeks.”

Grinning, she signs, “That’s great.”

“You should come down for a weekend once they have him. They’d really like that. They ask about you all the time.” I kiss her shoulder, exposed from the extremely tight tank top she’s wearing. “I’ll organize it when I’m home and get C-Lo and Hunter to come down, too. They’ve been wanting to catch up with you ever since we got back together.”

There’s something peaceful about Becca’s smile. Like, without truly knowing her past, you can tell that it’s something to be cherished. Something that can only be created by moments worthy of them, and going by the way she’s looking at me, perfect teeth displayed behind a more than perfect smile, she makes me feel worthy of it. Of her. And so I kiss her, and kiss her some more, tasting her strawberry lip-gloss against my tongue and I know I’m probably ruining her efforts to look prettier but she doesn’t seem to mind. At least until my hand moves to her stomach, and beneath her top, and up, up, up to her breasts and that’s when she puts an end to my wandering mind.