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She wouldn’t forget that or take it for granted.
“Not exactly cured, but better,” her doctor said. “And if your body continues to produce healthy cells…who knows?” He smiled.
“But I’ll have to reduce my stress at my job.”
“As I said, you’ll need to take some time off…or consider a new position.”
Darn, she’d been hoping he’d changed his mind. But that was okay. She’d figure it out. Time off wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
“The pace you were keeping before was no doubt what triggered the symptoms to start appearing in the first place.”
She swallowed hard. It would be tough walking away from a career she loved. But she’d made a promise to herself to do whatever was necessary to live a long and full life.
“Consider yourself hired as my marketing manager of events at the B&B until you decide what to do career-wise,” Sarah said, producing the champagne bottle again.
Whitney smiled her appreciation.
The doctor shook his head. “Fine. Go ahead. But don’t tell anyone I said it was okay,” he said. Then, touching Whitney’s shoulder, he smiled. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Thank you, Dr. Forester.” She paused. “Um…what about children? If my cells continue to be healthy…” She had to know. It was the part of having this disease that crushed her the most. If her health continued to be okay, if her body continued producing healthy cells, could she potentially have kids someday?
“Anything’s possible. Let’s take it day by day, okay?”
It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either, and her heart filled with the tiniest bit of hope. She smiled through tears as she nodded. “Okay.”
“Bye, ladies,” the doctor said, leaving the room.
The second the door closed behind him, Sarah popped the cork on the champagne bottle.
“I’ve got mine, too,” Lia said, holding up a tiny bottle to the computer camera.
“To friendship,” Jess said as Sarah handed them plastic hospital glasses filled with the bubbly liquid.
To second chances. To hope.
“To friendship,” Whitney whispered.
…
“Next round’s on the house!” Trent yelled across the crowded bar that evening as he received the text from Jess that said Whitney’s appointment had gone well.
Angel sent him a surprised look. “Trying to go out of business? The place is packed.”
“Whitney’s transfer went well. Doctor says she’s going to be okay,” he said, his hand trembling on a whiskey bottle as he poured three shots and waved his bar manager and bouncer toward the bar. Despite everything they had going on between them, they’d put it all aside and had been a source of comfort for him the last two weeks. He hadn’t seen or talked to Whitney while she was recovering, as per her wishes. But he’d thought of her every second of every day for the last two weeks, and he hoped there would be an opportunity to talk to her…reconnect…tell her everything… He was afraid of getting his hopes up for a chance at a future together, but he couldn’t help it.
Now that she was better, maybe she’d have a change of heart? If she could deal with the new situation he found himself in.
“To Whitney,” he said, raising his shot glass high into the air.
Max and Angel looked as happy and relieved as he was as they all clinked glasses and tossed the alcohol back.
He reread the text from Jess several times. Whitney was going to be okay. It meant some life changes, but at least she was going to get better.
Now, he just had to hope he could be a part of the new life changes. And that the love of his life could accept his.
…
“Knock, knock, can I come in?”
