Page 40 of The Malibu Arrangement

And, just like that, my mind crystallizes into a single, desperate thought. I'll race to Cedars-Sinai and kneel on those cold hospital tiles, begging whatever god might listen that Mom somehow survives. The word "sepsis" echoes in my head like a death knell—blood poisoning that could steal her from me in hours. My stomach twists into a painful knot. If she makes it through or if she—no, I can't even complete the thought without my throat closing up. Either way, I'm escaping this gilded cage with Max. I just need to plot my exodus from this Malibu prison.

I stumble toward my Prius, keys jingling in my trembling hand, when I spot Rosa standing sentinel in the driveway, her silver-streaked black hair pulled into its usual tight bun. Her weathered face creases with concern as she steps forward, blocking my path. She's always had a sixth sense for my distress, noticing what Max's cold green eyes never bother to see.

"Celeste," she says, her warm brown hand enveloping mine. Her dark eyes scan my face like she's reading a tragic novel. "Where are you off to in such a hurry, child?"

My lips quiver as I try to speak, but instead, hot tears spill down my cheeks, leaving mascara trails I can feel but don't care about. The words about Mom remain trapped behind a wall of panic. My entire body trembles like I'm standing in a blizzard rather than the seventy-degree Malibu sunshine. I yank open my car door in desperation, but Rosa firmly pushes it closed with a decisive thud.

"Celeste," she says, her Jamaican accent thickening with emotion. "You can't drive like this. You'll wrap yourself around a telephone pole because you won't see nothing through those tears. Let me drive you."

I nod weakly, surrendering my keys. "Cedars," I manage to whisper through lips numb with fear. "Please."

Chapter Thirty-Three

EMERGENCY SITUATION

Max

When I arrive home from work, the house is quiet. No Rosa. The wall clock reads 9:17, and my stomach tightens—she always leaves a note or sends a text when she's going to be out this late. I grab my phone, thumbs already tapping out a message. The three dots appear almost immediately.

Hey Rosa. Just got home and wondering where you are. Hope everything’s okay.

So sorry, Max. I’m at Cedars with Celeste and time got away from me. I should’ve texted you to tell you where we are.

Cedars-Sinai Medical Center? My throat constricts as I tug at my suddenly suffocating collar. Could her mother be...? I force the thought away with a sharp shake of my head. I won't jump to conclusions until I know the facts.

Is everything okay with Celeste’s mom?

No. Things don’t look good.

ICU?

Yes

Shit. I need to get to Cedars now. My driver could take me, but the helicopter would be faster. The Bell's fueled and ready on the pad, and I've got my license. One text to Helene in hospital administration and I'll have landing clearance—just like when Granddad broke his hip last year. Whatever's happened, Rosa wouldn't have left that message unless it was serious. Minutes matter now. Maybe seconds. I’m sure Celeste has her friends there, probably her sister. And Rosa’s there, too. But I need to be there if she gets the worst news that anybody can get.

My feet pound the concrete as I race toward the helicopter, thumbs flying across my phone screen to alert Helene. The rotors are already spinning when I climb in, and within moments of securing my helmet and headset, I’m airborne. The city shrinks beneath me. Minutes later, Cedars-Sinai Medical Center comes into view, its helipad a small bullseye on the rooftop. Thanks to Helene's clearance, I guide the Bell down with practiced precision. The second the skids touch down, I'm shutting systems off, tearing away my gear, and bolting for the elevator that will take me to the oncology ICU in the Pavilion wing.

Please let me not be too late. I've avoided learning anything about Celeste's mother—not even her name. All I've gathered is that they share some bond; she walked Celeste down the aisle at our sham wedding. But how would I know the depth of their relationship when I've deliberately kept Celeste at arm's length? I've constructed walls between us. Learning how she takes her morning coffee, whether she prefers scrambled or over-easy, hearing stories about her childhood dreams—these details would be my undoing. The physical pull I feel toward her is already overwhelming. Three times over. But it's just attraction, not attachment. Not yet. The moment I truly see her is the moment I'll fall.

I arrive at the Pavilion and flash my Kensington ID at the security desk. The guard's eyes widen slightly as he processes who I am, then waves me through to the ICU without question. Technically, these halls are reserved for immediate family, but money and status have their privileges. The irony isn't lost on me—I'm using my power to visit my "mother-in-law," a woman whose first name I never learned.

When I reach the waiting room, I find Rosa, Celeste and Lexi huddled together on the vinyl chairs—Rosa with her rosary beads clicking softly between practiced fingers, eyes shut in silent prayer; Celeste slumped forward, her red hair curtaining her face while Lexi leans in, murmuring something only Celeste can hear. I stand there, invisible in their bubble of worry, until Celeste finally raises her head and our eyes meet across the sterile space.

Celeste leaps to her feet just as Olivia and Tally appear in the doorway, coffee carriers in their hands. "You!" The word escapes like venom from her lips. "Out! Now!!!!! You have no right to be here." She collapses back onto the bench, trembling with fury. Olivia catches Lexi's eye, tilts her head slightly. Lexi slides over, making room. As Olivia's arm encircles her shoulders, Celeste crumbles, tears streaming down her face. Without looking up, she whispers, "Liv, please make sure he's gone when I look up."

My chin drops to my chest as Celeste's eyes flash with hurt and anger. Of course she's upset—I showed up unannounced in this sterile waiting room where her real support system already surrounds her. Her friend Olivia, whose shoulder she's leaning on. Tally, whose fierce loyalty radiates across the room. Even Rosa, who's known her for what—three weeks?—sits clutching Celeste's hand like they've been friends forever.

The question pounds in my skull: am I here to ease my own conscience after how coldly I treated her, or because I genuinely can't bear the thought of her facing bad news alone?

The truth sits heavy in my chest, but the words die on my tongue. This isn't my place.

Olivia's eyes soften toward me, but Tally stretches across her to squeeze Celeste's knee, her glare burning holes through me. When Olivia starts to rise, I wave her off.

"I get it," I murmur, then crouch beside Rosa. "Text me when you know something?"

Rosa smiles and nods and I leave.

When I get home, I toss and turn in bed. The word "cancer" pounds in my head like a hammer. I see my mother's face in the one photo I have of her holding me as a newborn, just weeks before the disease took her. I remember the smell of whiskey on my father's breath when he'd come home late, how his eyes grew more vacant until one day, when I was seven, he just... vanished. And now Celeste's mother—facing the same monster. I press my palms against my eyes.