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Candice turns the car on before facing me. “Okay. Listen. You’re my sister, and I love you, and you’re getting a major surgery. It is a big deal, and we’re going to be there whether you like it or not.”
I blow out a breath. “Fine.”
“‘Thank you’ also works,” Candice says with a grin.
I jump when someone bangs on the window next to me. It’s Jen, and she holds up a paper bag. “Made you some snacks for tomorrow,” she says, her voice muffled. I roll the window down and she repeats herself. “I know you can’t eat today, but I made some things in case the hospital food is gross. It’ll all keep at room temperature for the day. Fallon’s making your dinner tomorrow.”
“He is?”
Jen nods. “Yeah. We’ll either bring it by your place or take it to the hospital, if you’re still there for another night.” She shoves the paper bag through the window, then nods. “Good luck.”
I watch her stride diagonally across the street toward Four Cups, her white chef’s uniform smeared with various types of batter. She has a floury handprint on her butt, which looks very large and very male.
I hold the bag of treats on my lap and feel a suspicious prickling in the back of my eyelids. Candice smiles at me and pats my knee. “Let’s get you to the hospital, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I croak.
I’ve never had general anesthesia before. I’ve actually never had any kind of surgery at all. But the nurses are kind, and the doctor explains everything in detail, and before I know it, my mother and sisters are saying goodbye and an orderly is wheeling me down to the operating room. He’s an older man with tattoos snaking all the way up his arms, his long, gray hair tied in a ponytail at the back of his head. He tells me a story about his granddaughter taking her first steps this morning. For some reason, the story calms me. By the time he wheels me to the ward right outside the operating room, I’m ready.
This cancer will be cut away, and then it’ll be me and my baby against the world. I slide a hand over my stomach and stare at the tiled ceiling, feeling a rush of warmth and love fill me up. I can do this. This first hurdle is terrifying, but within just a few short hours, I’ll be on my way to recovery. My baby needs me healthy and happy.
It’s while I’m lying there, waiting to be wheeled into the OR, that I really think about my baby for the first time in my pregnancy. I’d thought about the baby before, obviously, but it had always seemed like this hazy future that I could get to if I crossed a deadly minefield.
But in those few minutes when time stops and all I can do is wait for surgery, I realize that I’m going to be a mother. I’m going to have a tiny human with tiny little fingernails and soft, soft skin, and they’ll be relying on me for everything. I’ll get to watch my baby grow and learn and explore the world.
Suddenly, the cancer seems surmountable. Surgery, then chemo, then the reward is a child I get to call my own. Why have I been worried about my ex turning his back on me? Why have I been thinking about Rudy and a budding romance that went nowhere?
The biggest change in my life will happen in a matter of months, and it’s going to be great. I’ll be like that orderly soon—seeing a child of my own take their first steps and telling anyone that will listen about it.
A team of nurses approaches, and a sense of calm settles over me. This is just a challenge I have to get through for my baby. It’s just a test of my strength that I need to pass in order to get the reward of a full and happy life. For the first time since I found out about the baby, I realize what a gift this really is. Not just the baby, but the fight against this disease, too. My priorities are being muscled into place and I can finally see what’s important to me.
It’s not some guy. Not my ex, not Rudy, not anyone. What matters is my kid. My recovery. My family.
I’m moved, prepped, and put under. Then I blink, and I’m awake again, with a nurse behind me welcoming me back to the real world.
For some reason, the first thing I ask her is if my teeth are okay. In the pre-surgery briefing, they told me there was a risk of damage to the veneers I have on my two front teeth during intubation and extubation, and my anesthesia-addled brain decided that was the most important thing to verify.
Forget what I said about priorities. Apparently, mine are all out of whack.
The nurse smiles. “Your teeth are fine. The surgery went well. The baby is healthy. We’re going to bring you up to your room in a few minutes and the doctor will come see you there. Just relax. You did great.” She pats my arm, checks the various bits of equipment near my head, then walks away.
I wake up again in my room to a blurry shape sitting in the chair next to me.
“Rudy?” I rasp, then blink a few times to see Candice standing up from the chair.
“Hey,” she whispers, patting my leg. “What did you say?”
I gulp past painful dryness in my throat and shake my head once. “Nothing. Hey.”
“Your surgery lasted just under three hours,” she says. “Mom and Trina had to go back to town to pick up the kids from daycare. They’re dropping them off with Mac, but they’ll both be back soon with some more supplies. Doc said you’d probably be here more than a day. Mom went through your bag and decided you hadn’t packed properly.” My sister winces. “She went back for fresh toiletries and more comfortable clothes for you. She wasn’t sorry about snooping.”
I huff. “No worries.” My lids are heavy, and the last thing I know is Candice is readjusting the blanket over my waist and patting my leg before I doze off.
CHAPTER 31
Rudy
I sit on my brand-new hardwood floor and lean back against my aching arms. In the past few weeks, I’ve repainted the entire downstairs level of my house and installed all-new flooring. My fixer-upper is finally getting fixed up. Today, I just finished installing the last of the baseboards and re-hung the freshly painted doors. I glance around the room and let out a sigh.
