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Ruefully laughing, I brush my tears away, stand on my toes, and say, “Kiss me.”
He sets the vibrating razor down on the table, grabs my face, and kisses me tenderly. “You never have to ask me twice.”
Smiling against his lips and before I lose the nerve, I ask, “Can you do mine first?”
“Of course. Do you want to sit down while I finish? Do you want water, a blanket, or anything?” he offers.
“No, but thank you,” I whisper, while sitting down on the chair that he pulls out.
I look up at him, smiling with teary eyes, mixed with both the sadness of what’s to come and the absolute love and happiness I feel from the gorgeous blue-eyed man standing over me.
Reed picks the razor up, and as I tilt my head back down, he kisses the top of my head and says, “Take a breath for me, Char.”
I didn’t realize that I had been holding my breath. I listen to him and take a deep inhale and exhale. Carefully, he runs the shaver over my head. Then again and again.
I wasn’t prepared for the level of intimacy this was going to bring. I’ve never felt more exposed to him than I do right now, and that’s saying something since he’s seen every bare inch of me. But as intimate as it feels, it’s equally vulnerable. It’s special. A moment that we will always share together, one he’s making even more precious by having me shave his head too.
As he finishes the last strip, his lips press into the top of my now bare head. My eyes close at the contact, and a peace I didn’t expect to ever feel again settles into my chest.
“All right, my turn,” he says eagerly and sets the razor down.
I can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s out of his mind.
“You don’t have to do this,” I assure him and stand up, turning slightly toward him.
He chuckles. “I think it’s a little too late for that. Besides, I want to.”
My heart warms from his words, his actions, and his love for me.
The urge to feel my head is overwhelming, and I give in. Tentatively, I lift my hand to my buzzed head and run my fingers over the patchy stubble that’s left behind.
Reed leans down and kisses my cheek, then lifts my chin up to meet his eyes. “You’re beautiful, so goddamn beautiful.”
Nodding hesitantly, I force myself to really hear his words, to replay them in my mind like a mantra.
“Thank you,” I whisper and move out of the way so he can sit in the chair.
With each glide of the razor on Reed, I feel as if I were shaving my own head. The feeling is oddly comforting. As his blond hair falls away, I realize something. It won’t matter if he’s bald for the rest of his life; it won’t matter how his appearance changes over time. I will love him the same. I think he feels that way too.
After I finish with Reed’s hair, he stands and picks me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I lean my forehead against his and breathe him in.
“I love you,” I murmur against his lips.
He grins at my words. “Not as much as I love you. I can’t imagine that’s even possible.”
Scoffing, I say, “Well, it is because I do.”
He smiles the kind of smile that doesn’t just show in your lips or your eyes; it lights up every inch of your face.
My appointment was the biggest weight off of my chest, and I desperately needed it. I think I might actually beat this. I really didn’t think that I would ever reach the point of feeling that way. I also didn’t think I would let myself feel that kind of hope again.
But the doctor said that my scans all looked exactly as they wanted after the last six months of treatment. My masses have shrunk, and I’m ready for my surgery. Which is good news—it is—but it also means that I’m losing my boobs, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that either. Cancer definitely isn’t going to wait around for me to feel prepared though. I have to be a step ahead of it, which means that I’m going to have to face that fear head-on.
My surgery is scheduled next week, so I have six days to get ready to lose yet another part of my identity. I’ve read articles about how women feel after a double mastectomy. They struggle with feeling feminine and sexy. I’m scared that I might never feel those things again. Will Reed find me sexy when I lose my breasts? Will he still look at me with that seductive gaze that used to scan my body repeatedly? We’ll find out sooner or later, I suppose.
There’s a lot I’m scared of right now, including doing what I’m about to do. Something that I’ve been putting off since I got my diagnosis because I’m scared of what it’ll do to him. I need to call my dad.
I’m done keeping this in the dark. Reed knowing has shown me that by not telling people, I’m taking away their choice. I shouldn’t isolate myself, no matter how much I want to. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to the people who care about me.
