The Doctor's Nanny

by Emerson Rose

  “Liam, I’m worried about Amira. Did you tell her I was living in her house?” He told me he was going to tell her, but I’ve not heard a word about it since before the move.

  “I compliment you and you’re thinking about my soon to be ex-wife?” He briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at me.

  “It’s just that I feel guilty. I feel like I’ve stepped in to replace her and she doesn’t even know what’s going on,” I say while I play with a string that’s fraying from a hole in my jeans.

  “She’s not coming home any time soon. Her father is still very sick. I know her. She’s not moving from his bedside until she knows she’s in his will. The last time she texted me, he was on life support, and that was just three days ago.”

  “Do you think she’ll be notified of the divorce today?”

  “Yes, she may already know. The way I see it, she could go one of two ways. Either she rages and digs her heels in deep, refusing to let go, or she gets dirty publicly. Neither option is going to be pretty, but I’ve got a public relations team and lawyers who are working magic and gathering ammunition against her. If she so much as breathes a word about my being unfaithful, they’re going to blast her out of the water.

  “I never cared enough to try and prove that she was sleeping around before, but women with the kind of money Amira has aren’t lonely. She’s been spotted all over the world on the arms of many men. It didn’t bother me because I don’t love her, and I knew it was going to be over as soon as my tour was finished anyway. All of the pictures and video clips of her hanging on other guys—and even a few women—will be very damming splashed all over the tabloids, and her father and his people will not tolerate that.”

  I feel sick now. This is no little amicable divorce—not that I ever thought it would be—but the possibility of my entire life being opened up to the public is disturbing and stressful.

  I must look as nauseated as I feel, because Liam reaches across for my hand. “You don’t have to worry. I’m all over this.”

  I nod, but his words have a hint of uncertainty. I want to believe him—God, I do—but Amira is like unstable dynamite. It looks harmless, but just when you think you’re safe, BOOM! It explodes, destroying you and everything around you.

  Liam squeezes my hand and I smile weakly. There isn’t anything I can do but go along for the ride. I’m in this for life. We have a baby coming, and although I haven’t said it out loud, I’m hopelessly in love with Liam. I’d go through hell and brimstone for him, and with Amira in the mix, I may have to.

  In Dr. Clover’s office, we wait while Toby plays with a basket of toys and books that the kind doctor has available for her patients’ children. Liam and I are sitting across from her, and I’m getting a very bad vibe. She doesn’t look like she’s simply going to tell me I’m anemic and that I need to take more iron. There’s a sense of doom and gloom in the air as she shuffles papers in and out of a folder. There’s a knock at the door, and a man opens it a crack and she motions for him to come in. He’s wearing a long, white coat—another doctor.

  Not good.

  “I’ve asked Dr. Jacobs to be here with us today. I’ve consulted him because some of your recent bloodwork had me concerned, Lourdes,” she says, looking directly at me.

  My stomach rolls, and my eyes dart around the room for the nearest trash can just in case I need to vomit.

  “What kind of concerns?” Liam asks, grasping the arms of his chair to scoot forward to the edge of his seat.

  “Lourdes, you’ve been complaining of extreme fatigue, which can be very normal during pregnancy, but the shortness of breath you mentioned threw up a red flag.”

  “Wait, you’ve been having shortness of breath? Since when? You never mentioned that to me. I never noticed it.”

  Liam is freaking out. I’m freaking out. Toby has stopped playing with the toys, and he’s looking at both of us. Even a two-year-old senses the tension in the room.

  Dr. Clover looks from me to Liam to Toby and back to me. “Lourdes, we need to do a physical exam, but I suspect from your bloodwork and your symptoms that you have Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”

  The room implodes with silence. The only sound is a ringing in my ears, and every pore in my body just began to sweat at the same exact moment.

  “Lourdes. Lourdes, can you hear me?” Somehow, Dr. Clover has moved without my noticing and is now on her knees in front of me, patting my cheek and repeating my name.

  “Wait a second. Hodgkin’s lymphoma—that’s cancer, isn’t it? How could she have cancer? She’s perfectly healthy, she doesn’t smoke or do drugs, she eats organic food, for God’s sake. She can’t have cancer!” Liam’s voice accelerates with every word he speaks.

  Dr. Clover doesn’t know which one of us to deal with first. She turns to look at Dr. Jacobs, and I wonder what kind of doctor he is, but then it hits me like a freight train. He is an oncologist, here to tell me I’m going to die of cancer.

  Toby is at my knee now, trying to crawl into my lap, and tears are streaming down my face. I never even felt like I was going to cry. I didn’t even know I was crying until I pulled my sweet boy onto my lap and he laid his chubby, soft hand on my wet cheek.

  “No cry,” he says with so much worry in his eyes that I do the opposite of what he’s asking of me. I cry harder until he wraps his arms around my neck and squeezes me tight.

  “Okay, lets all try to calm down a little here. This is very frightening news, especially since you’re so young and pregnant, but let’s back up a little,” Dr. Jacobs says. I suddenly feel like reaching out and smacking him upside his head for telling us to calm down. How about he fucks off a little and gives me a minute or two to soak up what little I know so far?

  “You should know that we believe you are stage one, which is treatable. You are also only exhibiting a few of the symptoms, which leads me to believe that we have caught this very early, as well as the fact that your bloodwork was virtually normal a few months ago when you applied to be a surrogate. We need to do some more testing and a full physical exam to make an exact diagnosis—and possibly a biopsy of a lymph node—but I am very hopeful that we can have you cancer-free by the time you deliver.”

  I just heard about twenty-five percent of what he just said and I understood even less, but it sounds like we might be able to fight this and win, and essentially, that’s all I need to know right now.

  I sniffle, and Liam snatches a box of tissue off the desk and holds it out for me to take a few. Toby grabs a few of his own tissues to wipe my tears off my cheeks, which makes me want to cry again. I can’t talk yet. I don’t even know what questions to ask. I feel like my brain is a factory that shut down with a million orders to be filled.

  “So you’re not sure she has this? That’s what it sounds like anyway. I mean, you need to do more tests before you can diagnose her, right?” Liam asks with a little less panic in his voice than a few moments ago.

  “Well yes, we do have to run some tests, but her blood results are highly indicative of Hodgkin’s disease. I’d like to get Lourdes in right away for a full physical and a few scans,” Dr. Jacobs says. He has taken a seat next to me on the opposite side from Liam.

  “Scans? Is all of this safe to do while she’s pregnant? Is the baby going to be okay? Maybe we should get a second opinion.” Liam’s first three questions are directed at Dr. Clover, but the last is sort of a verbal musing that trails off into nothing.

  “That’s another positive note. You’re in your second trimester. Treatment is safer after the first trimester. I don’t want to commit to any specific treatment plan until we know exactly what we are dealing with, but typically, we would do a round of chemotherapy soon, and if all goes well, deliver you a few weeks early so you can have another round after delivery.”

  I finally find my voice when I hear the word chemotherapy.

  “Isn’t chemotherapy poison? Doesn’t it kill all the cells without discrimination? How can that be safe during pregnancy?” My voice so
unds so weak and timid that I hardly recognize it.

  “Yes. I don’t understand that either. Isn’t there a different treatment for pregnant women?” Liam asks.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’d like to schedule an appointment for tomorrow morning in my office for an exam. Does nine o’clock work for both of you?” Dr. Jacobs asks.

  Toby’s arms are still securely wrapped around my neck when I look at Liam for help. He looks more scared than I’ve ever seen him. His eyes are full of tears and he’s pale, with a deep line etched between his brows. He holds my gaze for five long beats of my heart—thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. My life pauses, moving in slow motion for those five beats. At the end of them, Liam shakes his head slightly as if to clear the fog that’s settled around us.

  “Of course we can be there,” he says with his eyes still locked on mine.

  “Good. All right then. Our best chance at a full recession is to move quickly and get a solid treatment plan in place. I’ll see you both in the morning?” he asks, and I tear my gaze from the safety of Liam’s and nod at Dr. Jacobs.

  Dr. Clover stands and leans against her desk behind her. “Lourdes, we will get through this. If you had to get cancer, this is the best scenario. We caught it extremely early, you’re young and otherwise healthy, and the baby is in its second trimester, which makes it much safer to treat you,” she says, reaching out to take my hand.

  Best-case scenario? These people are fucking off their rockers if they think anything about this is a best-case scenario. Dr. Jacobs touches me on my shoulder and gently reminds me that he will be seeing me tomorrow. Then he shakes hands with Liam and walks out the door. I wonder how many times a day that man has to do this? How many times has he scared the shit out of someone telling them they have cancer? What a depressing job. Why would anyone choose to do that? I guess I should be grateful that he does what he does, but I’m not feeling very grateful about anything right now. In fact, I’m not feeling anything at all. I’m numb.

  “Lourdes,” Dr. Clover addresses me, and I look at her over Toby’s head like a zombie, expressionless and flat.

  “You’re both in shock, and I’m sure you have a lot to discuss. Would you like to use my office for a little while? I need to start seeing patients, but you’re welcome to stay.”

  I don’t want to be in this office another second longer. In fact, I never want to see the inside of Dr. Clover’s office again. If we have to discuss something, I’m requesting it be done in an exam room from now on. I will forever associate this office with the moment my life came crashing down.

  I stand and gather my purse, still holding Toby, and leave without a word. I don’t think Liam said anything either, because he’s right behind me within seconds, with his hand on the small of my back. I look over at him, but he’s focused on the exit. He needs to get out of here too.

  Outside, I feel like Mother Nature knew what was in store for me today. It’s still gloomy and overcast. The rain has stopped, but the day is as dreary and grey as my heart. Liam takes Toby from my arms when we reach the car.

  “Stay right here. Don’t get in,” he says when he opens the back door. He ducks inside to buckle Toby into his seat, and I hear him reassuring my little boy that I’m okay. When he unfolds out of the back seat, he closes the door and steps in close to me. He takes my head in his hands and slides his thumbs over my still-damp cheeks.

  “We’re going to kick some Hodgkin’s ass, baby. You and me. We’re going to get through this. It’s going to be fine.”

  I lower my eyes to the wet concrete, but he tilts my face back up to his.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Lourdes. I’m going to kiss you, because I want you to know that I’m in this forever. I love you, and nothing—not a meaningless marriage license or even fucking cancer—can keep us apart.”

  He slides one hand behind my neck and pulls me against his chest. My body is still in shock, lifeless and limp. I stand with my arms hanging at my sides. He moves his other hand down my neck to my chest, where it rests on my heart. I blink and stare at his beautiful mouth. His lips are so close to mine that I can feel his energy flowing from them before we even touch. He breathes life back into my defunct body with his kiss. When his mouth melds with mine, I imagine a black and white photograph of two lovers flooding with color from the point where their lips meet. A cloudy, gloomy day becomes bright with sunlight, and their hearts can be seen through their skin, beating full and red with life and love.

  He begins slow and gentle with soft, tentative kisses to my lips. When my arms float up to his shoulders, he holds me tighter. I give in and allow him to take me wherever he wants to go. He senses my release and slides his tongue between my lips into my welcoming mouth, where it glides and dances in perfect time with mine. I feel like I’ve never really been kissed before—not properly, anyway. We fit together perfectly, our mouths, our bodies, our spirits. This connection is so much more than physical. It’s soul deep.

  My hands have a mind of their own as one slides up to the back of his neck into his hair and I drag the other along the stubble of his jawline, urging him to take more of me. The hand over my heart moves over my breast and brushes my nipple through the thin material of my shirt with his thumb. We separate for a second for air, and a whimper escapes my lips. He moans and covers my mouth with his again until we’re both gasping and panting. With our lips still barely touching, forehead-to-forehead, he whispers the words I almost missed earlier, and one of the worst days of my life suddenly becomes the best.

  “I love you, Lourdes.”

  “I love you too, Liam. More than you can ever know.”

  Chapter 27

  Liam

  Fucking cancer. Why? Why do such shitty things happen to such wonderful people? Isn’t it enough that the father of her baby was killed in a tragic car accident before Toby was even born? Now she has to suffer through chemotherapy while she’s pregnant with my child. I wouldn’t be surprised if she forever associates pregnancy with disaster.

  I glance over at her in the passenger seat every mile or so to make sure she’s still okay. She isn’t. She looks comatose, staring out the front window with no expression. She came out of it for a few minutes back in the parking lot at the doctor’s office when I kissed her. Every part of her seemed to electrify when our lips touched. Kissing Lourdes was the single most life-altering moment of my life. It crushes any kiss I’ve ever experienced before. Every experience is like a first with Lourdes. My life has been consumed with becoming successful in my career. It’s been about leaving my shitty childhood in the dust, and it’s been about seeing how many women I could conquer. But what we have isn’t something to conquer. It’s something to cherish and nurture.

  I’ve never loved a woman before, and I wanted her to know that I have her back in all things, including this fucking cancer, so I kissed her. Right there in broad daylight, where Amira’s father’s spies could easily take a picture of us. I kissed her because I fucking love her and she deserves to know it.

  At home, Toby is asleep when I carry him in. He murmurs that he wants his mommy when I lay him down in his bed. She’s right behind us, standing in the doorway watching. I turn to her and raise my eyebrows to see if she’s going to come and lie with him, but her eyes are glassy and unfocused.

  “Mommy is going to take a nap too, buddy,” I say. He’s not fully awake, and he accepts my answer with half-shut eyes. Before I’m out of the room, I can hear him snoring softly.

  I guide Lourdes to her bedroom with my hands on her shoulders from behind. I sit her on the side of her bed. I feel like a puppeteer, leading her around where I want her to go and arranging her just so.

  I crouch down and take off her shoes and place then next to her night table like I did when I spent the night at her apartment a week ago, but instead of leaving her alone, this time I stay. She’s staring at me but not. I don’t know where she is, but she’s not here with me. I smooth my hands up her thighs to her hips, where I squeeze
her flesh in hopes of reigniting the life inside of her.

  Her eyes begin to clear, and it’s as if she is just realizing where we are.

  “I’m scared, Liam,” she says.

  “Oh baby, I know you are. So am I.”

  “I need you.”

  “You’ve got me.”

  “No, I need you,” she says, taking ahold of the collar of my shirt and pulling me into her intoxicating bubble. Oh my God, is this the right time to take this leap? She’s devastated and in shock, she’s just had the worst news imaginable handed to her this morning, and now she wants . . . well, I’m not exactly sure what she wants. Maybe she just needs to be close to me and for me to hold her until she falls asleep.

  I stand with the intention of sliding her over and spooning behind her, but she stops me. She wraps her hands around my wrists and moves them to my sides, looking up at me through her dark lashes. She curls her fingers into the waist of my jeans and tugs me closer to rest the side of her face on my belly. Instinctively, my hands circle her shoulders, but she slides one hand up my leg until it’s resting on my semi-hard cock, and I know that snuggling isn’t the kind of comfort she wants right now.

  My cock grows under the pressure of her hand, and I try to take a step away, unsure if we should be going where we’re going. She grasps my shirt, pulls me back against her and starts to un-tuck it, never looking up at me. When she unbuttons my jeans and pulls down the zipper, I take her chin and tilt her face toward mine.

  “Are you sure this is what you want right now?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” And with that she is pushing my jeans down off my hips, and I’m pulling my shirt over my head with one hand and toeing off my shoes. When I’m in nothing but my black briefs, I wrap my arm around her waist and drag her up the bed, pinning her arms over her head with one hand and undressing her with the other. It’s nothing to slip the lightweight blouse over her head. Her black cotton skirt slides off without a hitch, but when I settle over her in only a black bra and matching tiny panties, I’m awestruck. Her eyes are so full of conflict and desire that I’m torn. I want to go on. Fuck, more than anything, I want to strip her bare, but is she going to regret this tomorrow? Am I taking advantage of her weakened state?