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“It is?” Bryant says before I even get a chance.
“It is. Our second mammogram was much clearer. You have some fibroid issues, and Dr. Christopher will be able to tell you how to treat those and steps you need to take. I am going to suggest that you keep self-exams constant and that you never miss a scheduled mammogram.”
“I can do that,” I respond, relief pouring over me.
“I’m sure you can. I’m so happy for you.” She stands, and I do the same, although my legs feel like jelly.
As we say our goodbyes and Bryant and I walk out of the office, my heart is running away with me. I was so convinced that it would be bad news. I can barely believe the outcome. When we make it out into the hall, Bryant picks me up and spins me around, letting out a shout that is full of relief and joy. I hold on and laugh with him right before I capture his face in my hands and kiss him with everything I am—and everything I am is wrapped up in everything that is Bryant Matthews.
It always will be.
35
Bryant
Two Months Later
“Love you, Terry,” Maggie whispers, kissing his cheek as she pulls the cover up to his shoulders. She carefully avoids Fifi who sleeps on Terry’s pillow. That cat loves him. She’s still not crazy about Maggie, but they’ve called a truce with each other that seems to work.
“Love you, too,” he says and then lifts his gaze up. “Love you, Dad,” he adds, and I smile. I didn’t realize he even knew I was standing there. I look at Maggie and him. Maggie’s sitting on his bed next to him, the light from the bedside table showing me that the circles under her eyes are lightening. She’s not let go of all of her guilt, but she goes to therapy once a week and I can see a difference. We’ve even started going as a couple to one of those sessions each month. It’s painful, it’s hard and we’re both dealing with different types of guilt. She has hers that is completely misplaced and not true and then there’s mine for not being a better husband, for not helping, and not being there. We’re going to work it out, though. I believe that completely.
“Love you, buddy,” I murmur, walking into the room to stand by the bed.
Maggie gets up and stands beside me, instantly curling into my side and wrapping her arms around my stomach. Pleasure shoots through me, but it’s not sexual. It’s the simple pleasure of having the woman you love in your arms, completely yours, after years of believing it would never happen.
“Are we really going to live here like a real family, now?” Terry says, surprising us both.
“We’ve always been a real family, Terry. I’ve always loved you and your mother, you know that,” I tell him, not liking that he ever saw us as anything but a family.
“I know, but River gets his mom and dad together all the time. They eat breakfast together, and his mom makes pancakes like and Luka makes bacon and things. You know, kind of like we’ve been doing. Well, except Mom cooking, but I get to help her set the table and that’s fun.”
“Hey, I can cook,” Maggie mutters.
“Mom, peanut butter sandwiches don’t count.”
I laugh, trying to do it silently, but Maggie can feel my body shaking as I struggle not to let it out.
“Okay, I see how it is. You two yahoos see when you’ll get one of my phenomenal, homemade peanut butter sandwiches again!”
We all three end up laughing then and Maggie lunges down on the bed tickling Terry, and my son squeals, but God…
You can hear the happiness in the sound. You can feel it in the air I’m breathing.
Somehow, we all end up hugging one another in a circle of three on Terry’s bed.
“We’re going to live together as a family from now on, buddy. I don’t know if it will be here, but wherever we go, it will be together,” I finally tell him, wanting to make that clear.
“Are you and Mom getting married?” he asks and my heart flutters strangely in my chest. I look at Maggie. I want my ring back on her finger more than anything, but if all I ever get is my Maggie under my roof and happy, then I have the world.
“That’s something your mother and I haven’t discussed, Terry. I think that’s something we may need to talk about between the two of us—”
“I would like to get married,” Maggie says, her voice quiet and tinged with nerves.
“You would?” I ask, hardly daring to believe she admitted to it.
“Yeah, I want to marry you again, Bryant.”
I want to scream yes. I can’t seem to make my voice work. I just stand there smiling at Maggie, stupidly. She’s going to marry me.
