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I realize the flowers I brought are hanging limply in my hand. I thrust them up and toward her, which makes her rear back. I pull them back to my chest. “Sorry. I brought you these.” Then I thrust them toward her again.
Lily’s lips twitch. “You mind putting them on the table?”
I look around for a vase, then feel stupid for bringing flowers to a hospital room without anywhere to put them. Giving up, I just lay them flat on the little table on wheels next to Lily’s bed.
She gestures to a chair. “Sit, if you have time.”
“I’ve got time,” I tell her, my throat tight. I’ve got all the time in the world. I pull the chair close to her side and put my hand on the bed, half an inch from hers.
Her fingers extend slightly, barely brushing the side of my palm. I feel that touch in my entire body. My cock twitches, which is entirely inappropriate but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Tired,” she answers. “But okay. The doctor said the surgery went well. They’re waiting on tests to see if they got all the cancer cells. Had to take my nipple, but the reconstruction went okay. I have what they call a breast expander, and I’ll have to come back and get it pumped full of saline every few weeks before they can put an implant in.” She snorts, then closes her eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my mutant boobs.”
“I love your mutant boobs,” I blurt out, which make her laugh. It’s a hoarse, tired sound, but it unfurls the tight knot in my chest.
“Well, that’s good.” Her eyes soften. “Thanks for coming,” she whispers. “And thanks for the flowers.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“Well, I’m sure I look terrible and I’ll probably be embarrassed about it later, but right now I’m glad.” Her eyes are soft as they search mine.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, shifting my hand to cover hers. Deep, undeniable contentment suffuses my body at the touch, as if all I’ve ever needed was to have my palm laid over hers. This is right. This is exactly where I should be.
She smiles sadly. “I’m sorry I pushed you away, Rudy. I just needed to get through this, and I felt like I might not have the strength if I was distracted by a man.”
“I’m here,” I say softly. “I want to be here. I don’t want to be a distraction, Lily. I want to add to your strength.”
Her breath catches, and I wonder if this is it. All it took was me showing up with a bunch of flowers she hasn’t even looked at, and I’m about to win her back. Sure, the past few weeks have been shitty without her, but I’d go through it a hundred times over if it means I get to see this look in her eyes—the soft, tender look that tells me this was never casual between us. My chest squeezes, and for a beautiful, brilliant moment, I think I might have won over the woman of my dreams.
Then the door opens, and Phil from the Grove steps in. His eyes move from Lily to me, and everything falls to shit.
CHAPTER 33
Lily
I don’t know if the hospital has me on some strong painkillers or what, but I actually forgot about Phil. How crazy is that? He texted me last night about a million times before I finally told him where I am. I was surprised he was in town, obviously, but I think a part of me thought he was bluffing. How many times did he tell me he’d come see me before a last-minute “business meeting” came up? In all the time I dated him, he wasn’t ever reliable.
How could he be, when he had a whole other family waiting for him at his real home?
Then I fell asleep, and I woke up to bright sunshine, feeling simultaneously like a Mack truck ran me over and like my life could finally begin. My first thought this morning was for my baby—and how for the first time since I got the cancer diagnosis, I actually feel like my baby is connected to me. It’s like cutting the cancer from my body lifted a weight from my shoulders.
I’m no longer this sick husk of a woman who might not make it to see my child grow up, or who might not even be able to carry my child. Now I’ve faced the first big hurdle, and I’m almost through it. Sure, the recovery will be tough, and I still have chemotherapy to contend with, but I’ve gone under the knife and my baby is right here with me.
For the first time in months, I feel like my future is…well, maybe it’s not bright, exactly, but I at least feel like I have a future. I hadn’t realized how terrified I was of getting this mastectomy until I woke up and everything (including my dental work) had gone okay. I think I had this niggling fear that the baby wouldn’t make it.
More than a niggling fear, actually. I was damn terrified of going under the knife. I thought I’d wake up with one breast and an empty womb, and I’d have to deal with the guilt of a miscarriage along with the scars on my body.
But everything went well. The surgery, the baby, the reconstruction. For the first time in months, I feel hope.
Then Rudy walked into my room, and Phil just flew right out of my mind because Rudy is so damn pretty and the soft, sensitive parts of my heart were just delighted he’d actually come to see me.
For those few moments, when the tips of my fingers brushed the edge of his hand, I felt like I’d been wrong to push him away. He came to see me even after I acted like I wanted nothing to do with him, and doesn’t that mean there’s something good between us? Doesn’t that mean he cares?
But then Phil walked through the door, and time has slowed right down. The seconds melt by, and both men look at me, then at each other.
At first, I think Phil is shocked that there’s another man by my side. But when Rudy stands up, his chair clattering to the floor, I realize they’ve met.
