A Heavenly Kind of Love

by Lexi Ostrow

  “I’m sorry. That was bad phrasing on my part. Currently, our goal has been to shrink the tumor. Now we’re shifting gears and to stop the spreading. Then, we will most likely have to perform surgery on your left breast. Not a removal of the breast itself, but to take out this nasty tumor.”

  “And this will save me?”

  “It’s our newest and best shot, but we’ll need to get started tomorrow.”

  “That’s two days before Christmas.”

  “I understand, and I’ll make certain to send you home with something for the vomiting so you can enjoy the holiday.”

  There was nothing she needed to say, nothing she could say. All of her fighting and she’d come up short. “Just like with my program.”

  “Can I take her home?” Gabe spoke up, his words clipped.

  “Yes. We can get the discharge paperwork ready now.” Doctor Dresdell turned from Gabe to Cassandra. “I’m sorry this wasn’t better news, but I promise you, this isn’t the end of the fight.”

  “I’m still ready.” And she meant it, even if her hope was deflating like an old balloon.

  Twenty-Two

  Cassandra should have been used to the waiting room by now—or at least she thought she would be.

  It’s because nothing is the same now. The crude thought practically brought tears to her eyes. The third time around was going to be the hardest yet.

  “Miss Marks?” Lucy smiled at her from the doorway. “Are you ready?”

  Finding the strength to at least smile for Diana’s sake, Cassandra patted her messenger bag. “All set.” She failed at sounding chipper. With a smile to her boss, she walked to the door. Telling Gabe he couldn’t come had been shattering, but she needed some barrier up. He’d seen her near her worst, but Diana had seen her at worst. Cassandra wasn’t ready for Gabe to see her that way.

  The vast empty space was as frightening as ever, and this time, only three beds were occupied. None held familiar faces, and Cassandra’s stomach rolled. Do not get sick right now. You’ll be a mess, and nothing has started.

  “Since we’re a little empty because so many people planned their session around the holiday, why don’t you pick your spot?”

  Cassandra’s eyes roamed the room seeing if there were someone who might offer her a smile. Sitting next to someone interested in engaging with her had been a lifesaver the first two times. Samuel was visiting with his sister in Rhode Island. Even knowing he wouldn’t be there, a strange discomfort settled over her. She’d grown used to his presence.

  An older woman appeared to be listening to an audiobook through earbuds with eyes closed and a Kindle in her lap. A young man, likely her age, sat with his fingers tapping into his leg, drumming. He also wore headsets and sat with his eyes closed. In the furthest bed, an elderly woman sat, a smile on her lips as she watched something without headsets in her ears or audio coming from her phone.

  “How about back there?” At least it’s possible she’ll be happy to chat with me and keep me calm.

  Lucy led the way and got straight to hooking the IV’s up. “Now, this is the first time we’re introducing Herceptin into the treatment, and Doctor Dresdell wants to keep this as comfortable as possible for you. So, we’re going to get you started on your usual treatment, and about an hour in we’re going to add the Herceptin. I need you to do me a favor and stay awake. I know three hours is a long time stuck in a bed, but if you feel funny at all, we’ll want to know about it.”

  Cassandra swallowed and sat in the bed, extending her arm. “I thought Doctor Dresdell told me the side effects would be much of the same.”

  “They will be. However, you’re essentially getting a double dose of them. It’s likely you’ll feel different this time.” She wiggled the needle, her way of letting Cassandra know she was going to insert it.

  Cassandra said nothing as she thought back to the vomiting from the past two times. Longer seemed like a horrible time frame since she didn’t want to spend the holiday sick. “May we do something besides the steroids now for the vomiting? It’s been the worst part.”

  “I’ll reach out to the doctor, but we’re going to keep things as they are for the time being. I assure you, if it get’s worse and you push that button, we’ll have relief.”

  Miserable, she nodded and mumbled a thank you under her breath.

  “You’re all set. I will see you in an hour.”

  Sighing, Cassandra dropped her hands over her belly and adjusted the bed, so she was reclining.

  “Don’t you just hate how pleasant she can be?”

  Cassandra looked over to the see older woman smiling, a sparkle of amusement in her gray-brown eyes.

  “Thank god I’m not alone.”

  “Not a chance. It amazes me the woman doesn’t realize how it annoys most of us.” She set her phone to the side. “Nice to meet you, my name is Fiona.”

  “Cassandra. Happy to meet you too—happy to have someone to talk to.”

  Fiona chuckled. “It can get a bit lonely if you’re left to your thoughts.”

  “Do you mind me asking?”

  “Breast Cancer. This is the second time. I was in remission for nearly three years.”

  Cassandra wasn’t sure if she was elated to hear the word remission or dismayed Fiona had used it as a past tense situation. “Me too—first time though.”

  “Your hair looks very lovely.”

  She resisted the urge to touch it. “I’m afraid to shave it. I’ve seen a little more than usual when I brush, but it’s so thick . . . I . . . I can’t bring myself to just sheer it off.”

  Fiona rubbed her peach-fuzz covered head. “I let mine be until it was ready. Though if I’d started early, I would have learned to like my egg head sooner!”

  Bursting out a laugh she looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, please, laugh. I’ve grown accustomed to it and have beautiful wigs for when I’m not . . . here.” She pointed to Cassandra. “Has it gotten much thinner?”

  “I’ve tried not to focus on if there was more each time I brush my hair by not brushing it often. There has been a bit extra during showers.” She’d done her best to ignore the slightly thicker clump each time, talking about it wasn’t terribly helpful.

  “Still early then. Sensitive to the touch?”

  “My hands and feet are terrible. Getting snow boots on is excruciating.”

  “Summer will be better. Whether you’re still stuck in this chair or out and about living your life, summer is always better.”

  Cassandra thought back to Uganda, it had been less than three months since she’d returned home and already she missed the kids. A strangled cry in her mind nearly broke free as the concept of never seeing the orphanage again sprang to life.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject.”

  “No, it’s all right. I suppose it’s the first time I’ve thought about how long it’s been since I’ve been to work. I used to travel to orphanages and help them get organized. I’m supposed to be on volunteer duty now, but I’ve spent more time with the Saint Jude kids at the other hospital. Feels like I might never get back to them.”

  “Cancer nearly pushed me into early retirement. Keep holding on and fighting. I did two more years as a school teacher and quit on my terms last fall.”

  “I love hearing that the fight does win.”

  “As often as it can, dear.”

  A wave of nausea rose up, and Cassandra swallowed it down. Forcing her attention to the woman next to her and the ridiculous green plant beside the bed. “When you were in remission, did you ever fear you’d end up back here?”

  “Every day of my life. I’m convinced it’s how the disease crept its way back into my body.” Determination sat in her eyes and in her words. “I won’t make that mistake twice.”

  “Were you happy though? Three years free of this place at the very least seems like a blessing.”

  “I was very happy.” She beamed. “I’m very happy now as well. Sit
ting in this chair puts a bit of a damper on life, but it is still a life.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself.” She paused, uncertain how much was too much to share. “My cancer metastasized. We caught it last night.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s just, I thought I was doing everything right. I want to get better for my work, but for myself too. I want to get to live a full life and help people along the way. I want to never sit in this damn chair again or worry about my hair falling out and losing the part of me that has always made me feel pretty.” Tears slipped down her face, but she didn’t pause. “I want to throw myself into this amazing relationship with what may be the perfect man. But I can’t. I’m afraid that happiness only lasts as long as my next session here. I’m terrified that I’ll fall in love and never get to see what comes of that.” When she stopped, her shoulders sagged as the tears kept coming. “I never used to cry.” Cassandra rubbed her arm under her eyes, wiping at the tears. “Now it’s all I do. I thought I was fighting that I was doing everything.”

  “I’m sorry. There’s not much one can say to something like that. I know those fears even though my cancer came when I was much older. I worry every day about what would happen to my husband and kids if this monster took me away. But if you keep focusing on the ifs and not what is happening around you, you’ll miss everything. Tell me, does this man you spoke of make you happy?”

  Snorting, she wiped at the tears again, this time with the sleeves of her sweater, dabbing it under each eye. “He does. Even the moment I met him, well, then I couldn’t stop staring at how good-looking he was. Now that we’ve been together, I feel like we’re moving on a cancer timeline, and I want to slow that down, but if I do and I don’t make it, what will I have missed?”

  “Cancer has a way of changing how we do things, but I know you understand that. Let’s distract you. Why does he make you happy?”

  That made her chuckle. “He’s just so wonderful. He was a soldier, and instead of being battle-hardened like he thinks he is, he’s incredibly gentle and generous with his affections and time. He claims to not love kids the way I do, but we’ve gone to the children twice, and I think once the shock of their tragedy wore off, he enjoyed himself as much as I did.” She stopped talking as realization struck. It wasn’t what Gabe did that made her happy, it was what he’d done with her. “But it’s not about that. It’s the way he can look at me and make me feel like I’m the only person in the room. Or how when he touches me, I get butterflies damn near everywhere. He’s taken the physical slowly, but when we kiss, it’s all I can think about it for hours after.”

  “It sounds like this man might be your Christmas gift. Perhaps he just came a few weeks early to make sure you didn’t miss taking off the wrapper.”

  Fiona winked, and Cassandra fell into a bout of laughter. Pain lanced through her arm when it connected with the bed. “Ouch!”

  “Sensitive?”

  She nodded, ignoring the way rubbing the injury felt like dragging sandpaper over her skin. “What does that mean?”

  “It means your body realizes how much chemo it’s got in it right now. Do yourself a favor, take a nap. When this happened to me the first time, I was sicker than a dog.”

  Cassandra looked at the clock on the far side of the room. It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes, and she was already reacting. She couldn’t nap this round, and it seemed she would need a much more engrossing novel than the self-help book she’d downloaded onto her Kindle. Is this how it will be now? Bitterness spiked the thought.

  “Thank you, Fiona. You didn’t have to spend time talking with me.”

  “Trust me, human connection is the key to all of this.”

  “So I keep hearing.” Cassandra nearly gagged on bile as her movement struck her dizzy. “I think I’ll take you up on that nap now. Or at least try to.” Rolling over, she ignored the fire that spread that an army of ants over her shoulder when she put pressure on it. Keep your eyes open. Scoffing, she moved off her side. It didn’t make any sense that she felt so much worse after such a short time.

  Who said any of this makes sense? They’d had a damn for-sure cure if it did.

  Her phone beeped, and she pulled it from her pocket, happy that her hand wasn’t sensitive as she dipped her hand into her jeans. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she read Gabe’s text.

  I’ll just focus on this happiness. He doesn’t need to know how much he means to me, but he does. Gabe was going to be her light in this darkness, not because he was there, but because she knew without a doubt, that he was the man she’d waited always been looking for. Now all she had to do was wait until Christmas morning when she could tell him.

  If this round of chemo didn’t kill her first.

  Twenty-Three

  “Just say Merry Christmas and give her the damn bracelet.” He looked up at her brownstone from the street and smiled. Her curtains were drawn, and the tree they decorated together was visible, even from his odd angle. “Normal people do Christmas all the time.”

  Using the code she’d given him, he pushed open the vestibule door. Like his building, this one smelled like ham and turkey. Even though it was just after nine in the morning, humans apparently prepped meals the night before.

  Each step felt like six as he climbed the stairs. He hadn’t talked to Cassandra since her session yesterday, and he’d suffered all he could take not being able to watch her as her guardian. He’d called out to his father last night, practically begged the bastard to make him an angel again when he couldn’t be by her side as a human. As expected, he’d been ignored.

  Which left him spending the past day and a half expressly understanding that he might lose her. Unlike what humans often thought, there was no afterlife. One was simply dead.

  Dead and gone from my life. He curled a fist around the banister and practically tugged himself up the last three stairs. The council hadn’t come for him yet, and she was getting worse.

  “Gabe!” Cassandra called from her doorway, waving before he’d even completed climbing the staircase. “Merry Christmas.” She smiled, but he noticed the tiredness circling her eyes and drowning out her usually cheerful voice. She looked stunning though, her red sweater clinging perfectly to the curves that hadn’t been ravaged by the treatment and loose sweats that covered the bruising he knew was on her legs and thighs.

  There was nothing save for his desire to give her everything as he moved closer to her. They’d started the dance many times, and he was going to finish it today. He would not be fully committed to her if he always had an out clause if he failed. By giving into what he wanted nearly as bad as saving her, he would be hers forever—or as long as she wanted.

  Gabe moved faster as if she would be in danger if he didn’t, and kissed her. Passion roared to life as she deepened their kiss. Her arms wound around his neck, and her breathy sigh spurred his desire higher. She didn’t press herself against him, but she nipped his lower lip before pulling back. “That is one way to tell a girl Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” he retorted breathlessly before capturing her lips again. He needed to taste her, to know cancer hadn’t taken her from him even though she stood before him. He slipped his hand around her waist, tugging her to him as he walked forward, bumping her back into the door.

  “Ow.” Her strangled cry echoed in the hall and his ears.

  He pulled back, concern rolling through him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean too. I shouldn’t have.”

  “Stop it.” She whispered and kissed him, softer at first, but it grew hungry as she touched him.

  He wanted to stop her, to find out what was wrong, but he was only so much an angel. His body roared with the need to bed her, to fall and make certain he would always be by her side. Gabe lost all thought as her hand cupped him through his black jeans and then tugged the zipper down.

  “We haven’t closed the door.” He mumbled against her lips.

  “You f
orget the weight makes it close on its own.” Her hands ran through his hair.

  On cue, the door crashed shut leaving them in private. “This is not how I meant for this to go.” His lips trailed down her neck as gently as he could.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  His chuckle was lost as pulled his face back to hers and kissed him, nipping at his lip. Every action sent his body alive with need. He was so hard he knew he’d come undone if she stroked him. The thought was sobering, and he picked her up, swinging her legs to the side so he could walk them to the bed. Their lips never broke apart as he laid her down and covered her with his body.

  There was no rush as his lips moved against hers, tongues dancing together in an expert rhythm that was driving him mad. She hissed and pulled back.

  It doused water on his desire, and he watched as she rubbed her arm. He couldn’t remember touching it, but he knew it didn’t hurt on its own. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m an adult, Gabe.”

  “And that’s the second time I’ve hurt you in like three minutes. Chemo?” He’d read about the dying nerve endings and his heart sunk at the thought of her in so much pain.

  “It’s been bad for a few hours. It comes and goes though, thankfully. I don’t know how people ever walk around when it’s at the worst. The worst was the throwing up, but the Zofran mixed with the steroids help a tremendous amount.”

  Force the council to hear you. Get your wings back long enough to take away her pain.

  Just like that, his heart was torn apart. He was no good to Cassandra if he wasn’t an angel, and he was no good to her struggle if he couldn’t be there for her completely while half focused on his mission to save her.

  “Gabe?”

  “I’m sorry. God damn it.” He tugged at his hair, growling at the predicament he’d got himself into. Her frailty was so easily forgotten when they touched, but so apparently there. Every day, every treatment, she lost some of her energy. He’d been watching it happen and let his desires overrule common sense. Because common sense has been with you after foolishly racing down here and falling in love with her.