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“My father gave it to me before he passed,” I hear myself saying. “He had cancer too.”
“I’m sure he’s right here with you,” she says before patting the back of my cushioned chair and walking away. I sink back into the chair and close my eyes, wondering if she’s right. I haven’t taken the pendant off since I started chemotherapy, and it does feel like it gives me strength. My father didn’t make it, but he was still strong. A fighter.
Like me—and my baby.
Mac picks me up once I’m done. He’s got a big pickup truck that is very difficult to get into when you’ve just had cancer drugs pumped into your body and a growing baby bump throwing off your center of gravity. I try to haul myself up, and Mac stands behind me to give me a boost. He waits until I’m clicked into the seat, head resting on the seat.
“I’m sorry,” he says, standing in the doorway. “I’ll take Trina’s car next time I come pick you up.”
“S’okay,” I tell him, breath still coming in jagged gulps. “But you might have to help me down when I get home.”
He smiles, then jogs around the front to get to the driver’s side. I watch him with sick fascination, wondering if I’ll ever have the strength to jog again.
“How are the kids?” I manage to ask, eyes drifting shut as we get on the road.
“They’re great. Toby’s so protective of Katie, and I have a feeling he’ll be a good cousin for your little one too.”
I smile, eyes still closed. “The baby will have lots of love, that’s for sure.” We drive in silence for a while. “Thanks for picking me up,” I say. “I really appreciate it.”
“You’re family,” he says simply, and I open my eyes. He slows the truck down as we turn into the busier center of Heart’s Cove. His words sink down into me, diffusing into something warm and nice. Family. It’s a much bigger word than I realized.
“So you gonna ask Trina to marry you or what?” I ask as he pulls up to my building. “Make this whole ‘family’ thing official?”
Mac grins, one hand on the steering wheel as he turns the truck off. “Has she asked you to drop hints or something?”
I let out a laugh that sounds more like a puff of breath. “No. She’s still trying to convince herself that her last marriage ending in disaster means she never wants to do it again.”
Mac tilts his head. “And you don’t think that’s true?”
“Trina would cream her panties to wear a wedding dress again. She probably has a secret savings account for it already.”
Mac laughs, and his smile lingers as he slips out of the truck. The man lifts me right out of the passenger seat and lets me lean on him all the way to the elevators and into my apartment. By the time I lie down on my old sofa, I’m about ready to pass out.
“Thanks, Mac,” I mumble, lids heavy.
“Anytime. Your mom will be over soon. She just texted me to say she’s leaving Candice’s place.”
“Okay,” I say, and fall asleep right after the door closes behind him.
A very small part of me wishes a man like Mac was staying and cuddling close to me while I lie on the couch feeling like garbage—and by “a man like Mac,” clearly, I mean Rudy. But only a small part of me. The rest of me is still rational. I’m sure he’s not thinking about nursing me back to health anymore. He’s probably having margaritas with gorgeous, sexy, healthy women, grateful he dodged a bullet shaped like me. It’s better for me to go through this alone.
Weeks pass, and I realize I was wrong. Even without the baby, there’s no way I could have done this completely on my own.
I’m glad I moved to Heart’s Cove, and as overbearing as my family is, I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
I feel the baby kick for the first time at twenty-one weeks. It feels weird, like little fluttering in my stomach. It’s happened before, I realize, delicate little flutters that I assumed were nausea or something chemotherapy related. Lord knows there have been enough odd and uncomfortable symptoms caused by my treatment. Shocked, I realize that for weeks, I’ve been feeling my baby flutter. This feels different. Stronger. It’s not cancer related. It’s something much more beautiful.
I happen to be outside when it happens, carrying a bag from the pharmacy with fancy moisturizer I bought myself as a treat. I lean against a brick building, hand on my stomach as tears well in my eyes. I can’t help it. The joy I feel is indescribable because I know I’m doing it. Even with the surgery, and the chemotherapy, and all the damn brochures and questions and unknowns, there’s a baby growing in my womb and it’s kicking.
“Lily?” a voice calls out, right before I hear rapid footsteps approaching. “Is everything okay?” Rudy appears beside me, his face tight with concern. Bright eyes search my face, then shift down to the hand I’m clutching over my stomach. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
My throat is so tight I can’t talk. Instead, I grab his hand and shove it against my stomach. “The baby’s kicking,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “First time.”
Rudy’s features grow focused, and the baby stills for a moment. Would he be able to feel such small movements? Then the baby moves again, more vigorously this time, and Rudy’s face melts into the most gorgeous, beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. He’s as shocked and full of wonder as I am, and his other hand moves to my bump right beside my own. I look at the way his big, broad hands cover mine and span almost the full width of my little bump, and it feels so right to have him touching me like this that I could cry.
Well, I’m already crying, but I could cry some more.
“Holy shit,” Rudy whispers, awe tingeing his words.
