Dear Agony

by Georgia Cates

  “That sounds wonderful.” She stands and turns. “Unzip me before I go?”

  Unzip me. As much as I don’t mind doing that for her, it will be torture for me.

  I slide to the edge of the bed so she’s standing between my legs. I grasp the zipper and slowly lower it, studying the flesh of her back as it becomes exposed. So smooth. So creamy. So kissable.

  I wonder what she’d do if I moved closer and pressed my lips against the skin of her lower back just above the waistband of her thong. I lean toward her and toy with the idea, allowing my breath to touch her skin since my mouth is too afraid.

  I don’t mistake the goosebumps or shiver of her spine when the warmth makes contact with her back.

  I stare at the black lace playing peekaboo with me. My hands twitch with desire to run my fingers down her spine and take the dress with them as they move lower.

  Damn. I shouldn’t torment myself this way.

  “Got it.”

  She looks at me over her shoulder. Hesitant to move. Looking at me for a beat longer. Considering the same thing, maybe?

  “Thank you.” Her voice is little more than a breathy whisper.

  She turns around, clutches her dress to her breasts, and clears her throat. “Do you want me to start Monday?” Are her cheeks flushed because of me?

  “Monday would be great.”

  “Okay, boss. Good night.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  “I’ll try.”

  More than a few nights a week, I lie next to her in her bed because her dreams aren’t sweet. Her softness beside me, and her scent in the air I breathe has become two of my favorite things. I hate that Rose is tormented by nightmares but their presence means I have a reason to pull her close.

  And I don’t hate that.

  ***

  Bringing Rose on at PPI has proven to be one of my best decisions ever. Not only is she the best assistant I could have hired, I get to have her near me all of the time. Win-win.

  But not everyone is happy about Rose’s employment at the firm. Wendy is less than thrilled, but I’m proud of the way Rose handles herself. Kill her with kindness. That’s Rose’s MO where Wendy is concerned, yet she has this clever way of putting the woman in her place.

  Rose is sitting on my office sofa. She’s in deep concentration reading the paperwork for PPI’s newest property so she doesn’t notice me looking over to steal glances at her.

  That red dress fits her like a glove, showing just the right amount of leg. And those mile-high leopard-print heels . . . hot, hot, hot. I love having her at the office with me, but damn, she makes it hard to concentrate, especially when she’s working in my office instead of hers.

  She looks up from the paperwork and opens her mouth to speak but stops when she catches me ogling her. She smiles and her brow wrinkles. “What?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “I know. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  I’m curious to hear how she perceives the way I watch her. “What kind of way am I looking at you?”

  Her smile deepens and she glances away. “Never mind.”

  “I want to know. How am I looking at you?”

  She glances over at me and then down again. “Like you want something.”

  The woman couldn’t be more right. I do want something. Her. “What do you think I want?”

  She tilts her head to the side and grins as she nibbles her bottom lip. That lip I want to suck into my mouth and then bite and kiss at the same time because I can’t decide which I’d rather do.

  “Tell me. What do you think I want?” I’m curious to see how far I can take this conversation. How much I can get her to admit about the way she interprets my gaze. She might be inexperienced, but surely she can see I want her.

  Rose is so different from any other woman I’ve ever wanted. She’s delicate. Fragile. Innocent. She doesn’t know how to play the seduction game, yet she has seduced my heart, body, and soul.

  I need her.

  I want her.

  I love her.

  The knock on my office door ends the flirtatious game we’re playing. Dammit. Was something about to happen?

  “Come in.”

  Wendy enters and her eyes immediately go to Rose. “Didn’t know you were with anyone. I’ll come back later.”

  Rose has been employed here for two months. Wendy is well aware that she does the majority of her work in my office instead of hers. Because that’s the way I want it.

  “Rose will be here later as well. What do you need?”

  I can tell by Wendy’s expression that she isn’t enthused about speaking to me in front of Rose. Don’t care. “I was going to see if you’d join me for lunch today. I have something I’d like to discuss.”

  “Already made lunch plans with Rose, but I have a few minutes before my next client arrives if you want to talk.”

  Wendy looks over at Rose. “I need more than a few minutes. I’ll try again another time.”

  She says nothing else before she walks out, leaving my office door open. “She knows I like that closed. I think she does that to irritate me.”

  Rose gets up, goes to the door and shuts it. “She doesn’t want us to be behind a closed door doing inappropriate things at work.” I’d love nothing more than to be doing inappropriate things at work with Rose. More than inappropriate if I’m honest.

  “Wendy has a bad habit of forgetting who the boss is.” I’ve love to get rid of her but the business relationship I have with her father is too important for PPI. For now, I’ll tolerate her.

  “Well, I know who the boss is. And the boss missed signing these papers in one place.”

  Rose walks around the desk and stands at my side, placing the document in front of me. She leans down and thumbs through the papers until she reaches the page I need to sign. “Right here, boss.”

  I smile inside as I sign, using the engraved pen she gave me for Christmas. May our companionship be filled with smiles and laughter. I can’t believe how much joy she has brought into my life these last seven months.

  “What was that?”

  Shit. My shoulder just twitched, and she saw it. “What was what?”

  “That jerking movement in your shoulder.”

  It’s started. My muscles are beginning to show the symptoms of the disease. But I can’t tell her that. I’m not ready yet. “Old football injury, I guess.”

  “With a side of stress, I’m sure. Let me rub your shoulders.”

  Rose moves behind me and places her hands on each of my shoulders. She rhythmically squeezes the muscle and releases it. “Feel good?”

  “Yes.” You have no idea how good it feels to have your hands on me.

  Every time she touches me, I close my eyes and imagine us anywhere other than at the office. Her touch when she’s expertly massaging my shoulders, because she’s so damn good at it, makes me wish we were at home, in bed, wearing way less clothes.

  “Harder and deeper?”

  Damn. Why did she have to say that? “I wouldn’t mind harder and deeper.”

  She tightens her grip and squeezes firmly, sending me into heaven. It’s only a taste of what having Rose’s hands all over me might feel like.

  And I want more. So much more. How can I be turned on and completely relaxed at the same time?

  Her hands grasp the sides of my face and forces my head backward so I’m looking at her upside down. She leans over and places a kiss on my forehead. God, how I wish it was my mouth. “I expect that favor to be returned later.”

  “Gladly.” I would love to put my hands on Rose. Any time, anywhere, any place she wants.

  ***

  “Dammit.” I reach for a dish towel to catch the spilt coffee before it rolls off the counter onto the floor.

  I’m clumsier than I was even a month ago. The symptoms are worsening. This disease is defeating me, and I can’t make it stop.

  Rose has noticed the little changes. The tremors. The twi
tches. The weakness. She has asked me about them on several occasions, but I always make up some kind of lie.

  I hate lying to the woman I love. And as much as I despise it, the time has come. I have to tell Rose about my diagnosis before it gets worse.

  I’ve only had her in my life for nine months. I’m not ready to give her up, but I won’t let her stick around and watch me deteriorate into nothing.

  She comes into the kitchen as I finish cleaning up my mess. “What is my favorite chef cooking for breakfast on this fine Saturday morning?”

  “Lemon ricotta pancakes with blueberries and a side of bacon.”

  “Oh, yummy. Want me to help?”

  “Nah. Almost done.”

  “Why’d you get up so early?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” I know what I’ll be telling her today, and it has me on edge.

  “Hate that for you but it’s a win for me if I’m getting this kind of breakfast.”

  I work to maintain a happy front while we eat. I try to memorize how she’s looking at me because I know it’s the last time she’ll ever see me this way. Like her companion. Like I’m not sick. Like a complete man.

  “Come into the living room with me. I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Okay.” She grins and her voice is cheerful. But not for much longer. I’m about to yank the rug out from beneath her.

  We sit on the sofa facing one another. I look into her eyes and a huge lump forms in my throat. I don’t know how to do this.

  Rose grasps my hands. “It’s okay, Bash. Don’t be nervous. I’m ready for this.”

  I don’t know what she thinks I’m about to reveal but whatever it is, she’s mistaken. “I have something to tell you. And it’s not good.” There’s no easing into this. I just have to say it. “I’m sick.”

  From the hitch in her breath to the flicker in her eyes, I know she’s confused. I don’t look sick. “I spend every day with you, Bastien. What do you have that I’ve not seen?”

  I try to swallow the lump in my throat but it goes nowhere. “I was diagnosed with ALS a year ago.”

  “ALS?” Rose shakes her head, and I know by the stunned look in her eyes that she understands something about the disease.

  “Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. Lou Gehrig’s disease. Do you know what that is? And understand what’s going to happen to me?”

  Her eyes widen and her lower lids fill with tears. “I know what it is. But there has to be some kind of mistake. This can’t be true.”

  No one wishes more than me that the physicians were wrong. “I’ve seen three doctors. They all diagnosed me with the sporadic form of the disease.”

  She covers her mouth with her hand to stifle her cry. “No.”

  “Come here.” I scoot closer and pull her into my arms. I hold her, and she clings to me while she sobs to the point of losing her breath.

  I’ve never seen her so out of control. Not even following her worst nightmares. “Breathe, baby girl.”

  We stay that way for a long time—me holding her while she cries into my shoulder.

  Her face and eyes are red and swollen when she pulls away and wipes her tears. “I’m sorry. I just can’t bear to think of you sick.” She takes a big breath, and I see her gather her strength. “Okay. So what do we do next? How do we go at this?”

  I don’t think she understands the prognosis. “We don’t do anything.”

  “There has to be something. Some kind of treatment.”

  “There is no cure. It’s degenerative. I’m only going to get worse as time moves on.”

  “You’re strong and healthy. Can’t you do therapy to slow the progression?”

  “There’s one medication that slows the process but only by a few months. You treat the symptoms as they occur. And the symptoms have begun. They’re developing just as the doctors predicted. I’m already experiencing muscle weakness. It’s just the start of what’s to come. And I don’t want you to be around when it worsens.”

  She looks stunned, as though I’ve slapped her. “Bash. Don’t say that.”

  I’m about to hurt her. And myself. “It’s time for you to go. I’m releasing you. Ending our companionship.”

  She shakes her head. “No . . . no . . . no. That can’t happen.”

  This is a shock for her but she’ll get over it. She just needs a little time.

  “It can happen. And it is happening, baby girl.”

  Rose lunges and wraps her arms around me. “I’m not leaving you. I love you, Bash. Please. I have to stay.”

  I love you. Three words I desperately want to hear from her. If only it was the same way I love her. But it will never be the case. It won’t be possible when she sees me fall to pieces right before her eyes. Just like how I watched Bernard weaken.

  I take her arms and pull them away from my shoulders. I cradle her face with my hands so we’re eye to eye. It is breaking my heart, seeing the tears in her beautiful eyes. “I love you too but you agreed to go when I said this was over. No questions asked. You swore. And that’s what I want.”

  “I don’t care what I said or what I agreed to. That was then, and this is now. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She says that in this moment, but things are going to change down the road. “I won’t be the person I am today for much longer. I don’t want you to be here watching me crumble.”

  “I don’t care if you’re in a wheelchair. I’ll push you. If you’re bedridden, I’ll sit by your side.”

  I don’t know how Rose will react to what I’m about to tell her but I don’t expect it to go well. “You don’t understand. I’m never going to let it get to that point.”

  “This is degenerative. How are you going to stop it?”

  Not looking forward to the reaction I’m certain I’m going to get from her. But I have to get this out in the open. “I’ll end it before it gets bad.”

  The furrow between her brow deepens. “End it how?”

  I look at her, unable to vocalize my meaning. I don’t know how to do this. How to spit it out. I’m going to end my life.

  “Say. It. Out. Loud. So I clearly understand your meaning.”

  I’ve not done that—said the words for anyone to hear. Even myself. Attempting to articulate the words in my mouth makes this feel all too surreal.

  “I’m going to end my life.”

  She shakes her head. “No. Killing yourself is not acceptable for me.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  She grabs my face and holds it so we’re eye to eye again. “I will not let you do this. Do you hear me, Bastien Auguste Pascal? Never. I will never go along with this.”

  I wrap my hands around her wrists and bring them to rest on her lap. “This is what I want. I don’t want to live if all I’m doing is existing. That’s no kind of life.” I need her to be on my side. To support my decision.

  She’s looking at me as though she can penetrate my head and read the thoughts behind my eyes. “Does Vale know?”

  “I told her two days ago.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Pretty much the same thing as you.” Vale is exceptionally pissed off at me right now. She hasn’t spoken to me since I told her about my plan.

  “Which should be your first clue that your decision is wrong.”

  Rose needs to understand that this wasn’t a knee-jerk decision. I’ve researched the disease, the treatments, and the prognosis. I’ve given this decision a lot of thought and consideration. I’ve weighted the pros and cons. “I considered simply opting out on treatment. Foregoing the ventilator when the time comes but I don’t imagine asphyxiation is a pleasant death.”

  Rose lifts her hand to hold her forehead. “God, Bash. That’s gruesome. Don’t say stuff like that. I don’t want to hear it.”

  I knew she wouldn’t accept this. She needs time to absorb everything I’m telling her. Maybe then, she’ll see I’m right. “I have to say things like that. This disease is gruesome. And that’s why I need you
to see this from my point of view.”

  She reaches out and takes my hands. “Try to see it from mine. I’m the one who’d be losing you.”

  I rub my thumbs over the top of her soft, petite hands. “Our time together was going to be limited anyway. This just expedites saying goodbye.”

  “I wasn’t planning to say goodbye.”

  I’m angry with myself for growing so close to Rose. For falling in love with her. “This isn’t how our relationship was supposed to be. We weren’t supposed to become attached to one another.”

  She squeezes my hands. “Regardless of your intentions, it happened. I am attached to you, and you’re attached to me. If you kill yourself, you kill a part of me. You see that, don’t you?”

  It breaks my heart to hear her voice those kinds of feelings. It’s one of the things I feared most about taking on this relationship. “Please don’t say that.” I hate that this is hurting her.

  “It’s true, Bash. You have become a part of me. One of the best parts. I can’t lose you. Not to some disease and certainly not by your own hand.”

  I don’t want to be cruel or morbid, but she needs a reality check. “I’m going to waste away to nothing. Become a bag of bones in a bed who can do nothing for himself. If I don’t go through with this, I’m going to become someone’s burden.”

  “You won’t be anyone’s burden.” She rubs her thumbs over the tops of my hands. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be alive. And with me.”

  I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be alive. And with me. She says that now but what about when I can’t walk? When I can’t eat on my own? Or care for myself? When all I can do is lie in the bed and depend on someone else, or a machine, to do everything for me. Even breathe, the most vital necessity for living.

  “I’m not leaving.” She’s so fierce, so unswerving. When did she grow that heart of steel? When did she become the most important thing to me? And how had I imagined I could do this without her?

  Maybe. Maybe I can have a few more good months with Rose before I focus on my exit from this life. But I need to give her that choice.

  “Okay. Stay. For now. But understand it changes nothing. When it’s time for me to go, it’s time. You aren’t going to change my mind.”