“That’s good,” she whispered. “Really, really good.”
Her Forehead
Ten
Simone allowed herself to crumple into a ball on the floor. The pain in her back flared to life, but she didn’t move. Not even when she heard her mom and sisters walk into the house. They came through the door in the kitchen. The edge of the door smacked into her foot.
“What the hell?” Sara yelled.
“Simone. Simone.” Her mom rolled her onto her back.
“What did you do to my sister?” Liv asked, stepping over her mom and Simone.
“Nothing,” Sam replied. “Can you take the baby? I need to go to her.”
“Damn straight,” Liv said.
Simone’s heart began to beat loudly. She couldn’t hear anything else. Every movement happened in slow motion. She began defining time by the beats of her heart.
Beat one. Sam’s boots came into view.
Beat two. Her mom and sisters moved out of the way.
Beat three. Sam picked her up and cuddled her in his arms.
Beat four. She opened her eyes to Sam’s worried eyes staring down at her.
Beat five. He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
Beat six. “Hang on, love,” Sam whispered softly. “I’m going to get you some help.”
Beat seven. Simone closed her eyes.
Beat eight. Everything went dark.
***
When Simone came to she was startled by an extra bright light. She opened her eyes and immediately knew she wasn’t at home. The room was bathed in sunlight. The walls were painted a frosted blue. Navy curtains hung at the three different windows. Sam sat on a cushioned window seat and was gazing out a large bay window.
It was difficult not to suck in a breath at how handsome he was. His dark hair went past the collar of his gray pinstriped suit. The muscles on his arms and back strained against the jacket, making them more pronounced. He was turned so she could see his angled profile, the length of his lashes that curled slightly at the ends, and his soft lips. Her belly fluttered with wispy butterflies.
“Where am I?” she asked when he turned to her.
He stared a moment as though he were coming back from a long trip. “This is a bedroom in my house.”
Simone sat up quickly, too quickly, and felt immediately woozy. The soft plaid comforter fell to her waist, revealing a white nightgown. She pulled the comforter over her chest. “How the hell?” That wasn’t where she wanted to begin. “Why?” she finally asked. “I told you no. What about Sabrina?” Didn’t he understand she couldn’t be away from her? She didn’t know how much time she had left. Six months. Two years. But she knew she didn’t want to waste time away from her daughter.
Sam stood, came over to the bed, and sat. His hand reached out to touch Simone’s knee. Even through the covers her body responded to him.
“Sabrina is here. She’s sleeping in another room.” He indicated a monitor on the nightstand.
“How long have I been out?”
“Almost twenty-four hours. I had a doctor come to your house and verify you were okay. He explained you were probably just exhausted so we let you sleep.
“Your mom helped me pack a few things for you and Sabrina. I had a driver take us to the airport. Sabrina, you and I flew on my jet from a little airstrip near Bandon to Dallas.”
While he talked Simone’s mind reeled. How had she slept through all of that? She didn’t remember any of it. And what about Sabrina? Who’d fed her? Changed her? Took care of her?
Sam continued, “When we arrived here, I carried you to this room.”
“And Sabrina?” she asked. “When’s the last time she ate? What about changing her? What about naptime and playtime and— ”
Sam squeezed her knee. “I handled it. Sabrina is easy to take care of. She cries when she wants something. There are only so many things she could need.” He shrugged. “I figured it out.” Then he smiled. It was a sad smile. “Her mother, on the other hand, is a bit more difficult to figure out.”
Simone sighed and leaned back. “I’m not difficult. I told you what I wanted. Coming here wasn’t the answer.” Simone’s hair was a curly mess and hung in her eyes. She tucked it behind her ears. It was obvious Sam didn’t believe Simone understood her prognosis. He needed to understand that there was little hope. She crossed her arms. “Here’s how our appointment with your awesome doctor will go. Ready?”
Sam turned so he fully faced her. “Please. I’m all ears.”
“Your doctor will run a bunch of tests. After a day or two, she’ll call me into her office. Her face will be serious. Then she’ll clear her throat and tell me… the exact same news I got from my doctor. That I have a fifty-fifty chance of survival.”
“You don’t know that,” Sam said, his face grim.
She wasn’t done. If Sam thought he could have Simone and her daughter delivered to his house like some kind of package, he’d better think again. So, yeah, she was just getting started. “And what about this nightgown? Was this something your wife wore? Am I like the new doll—your replacement wife? Is there a whole closet full of clothes to go along with this?” She pulled at the nightgown disgustedly.
Sam stood. “What kind of a man do you think I am? What kind of person?” He moved to the door. “When my wife died I had her things packed up and sent to her parents, except two items that were too personal to part with.” He shook his head. Simone’s heart sank to her toes. “I get why you might worry, but that’s why I took off. I was worried about those same things.” He came back over to the bed and touched her face. “My feelings for you have nothing to do with her. They aren’t residual, leftovers from a past I wished I still had.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “You’re completely unlike her. You’re fiery, independent, and full of life. She… was different. Quiet. Reserved.” He gave Simone a pointed look. “Well-mannered.”
Simone huffed. “What are you saying?” If he thought he was making the situation better he was so wrong.
He tapped her on the nose and sat. “I’m saying you’re difficult, a total pain in the ass, and for some reason I adore all of it. All of you.”
She wanted to stay mad. He was obviously a man used to getting what he wanted, probably because he was spoiled rotten as a child, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes, the kindness in his face. What he’d done—basically kidnapping Sabrina and her—he didn’t do it because he wanted to control but because he really, truly cared.
Simone sighed. “For some reason I adore you too, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have to go back. I can’t stay here. I have a job, a home, my mom and sisters. I have a life. And as much as I appreciate what you’re trying to do, it isn’t right.”
Sam ran his hands through his hair. “Woman, you’re infuriating.” He gripped Simone by the chin. “Do you still love me?”
That was putting a girl on the spot. “I-I told you I did. I do. I never stopped loving you, which pisses me off because you left me—twice, you son-of-a-bitch. You don’t trust me.”
“It isn’t that I don’t trust you.” He closed his eyes a moment and opened them again. “I usually think my decisions through. I’m usually clear headed and…” He shook his head. “With you, everything is different. I know I made stupid mistakes, and I’m sorry. Can you forgive me? Love me despite my faults?”
Simone thought about it. He’d left the first time without a word. The second he’d believed she was lying. His decisions were stupid, but she could understand why he did what he did. Before that, from the moment they met two summers ago, she knew he was the one. Time and a couple of bad decisions meant to protect, not hurt, couldn’t change that.
“Yes,” she finally said, meeting his gaze.
“Good.” He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the mouth. “Because I’m not through with you.” He kissed her neck behind the ear. “And I won’t ever be through with you, Simone St. James.” He pulled aside her nightgown and kissed her shoulder.
“I love you. I love our daughter and I—” He paused, trailing kisses across her collarbone. “I want to spend my life with you.”
Gracious, the things that man’s mouth could do to her body. She pressed into him, desperate to be close.
His lips covered her mouth and he pushed it open, flicking his tongue inside. She met him and responded, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to her. He pulled back and she opened her eyes, questioning. “What?”
“If we’re to be together I need your trust. I need your belief in me. I know there’s a lot about me you don’t know, but we belong together. Surely you feel that.” He placed a hand over her heart. “In here.”
From the beginning she’d known he was the only man for her. After he’d left, her sisters had said she should be with other men just so she’d know the difference, so she’d be experienced and understand what she liked. But she’d never been able to fathom going through with it. She knew what she liked. Sam’s touch, his kisses, everything. Sam’s body fit with hers like they were made for each other. She didn’t need to be with other guys to know that.
Simone swallowed hard. “I do,” she said, touching his bottom lip with the tips of her fingers.
As soon as she said the words, he was on her, kissing her hard. She returned the kiss, grabbing his hair in fists. He shrugged out of his suit coat and began to unbutton his shirt, but she tore it open. He smirked. “That’s what I mean. Fire.”
Simone bit back a smile, working on the buttons of his shirt. One look into his hungry eyes and she realized anything was possible if they did it together.
Uncrossing
Eleven
The doctor’s office had pristine white walls, clean lines, and modern furniture. A woman in her fifties sat behind a cherry wood desk. On it was a computer screen, a thick pen, and a cream file. Simone guessed the file was filled with information on her.
The doctor wore a light gray suit with a white blouse, shiny taupe nylons, and black pumps. Her silvery-white hair was pulled back in a loose bun. She had the bluest eyes and thin silver reading glasses sat on the end of her nose.
Sam sat beside Simone, holding her hand. She kept fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing her feet at the angles. This was it. The moment of truth. It frightened her to know that the doctor knew her fate, that inside the cream file was the prognosis. Of course she already knew what it would say, but she still held a flicker of hope in her chest. Simone had submitted to all the tests bravely and without comment. She’d done them for Sam.
Taking a deep breath, she glanced at him. He gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back, knowing he needed her to be positive. She was trying. She noted the doctor’s stoic demeanor. It was the look of a woman who’d been delivering bad news for a really long time.
“Well, Miss St. James.” The doctor picked up her file and opened it, though she had the feeling it was out of habit and not because she didn’t already know what it contained. “Your results came back and you do in fact have a tumor sitting on your spine between the fourth and fifth vertebrae.” She paused. “I’m sure you’re aware of this.”
Simone swallowed, nervous. Sam squeezed her hand. It wasn’t any easier getting crappy news the second time around, but she told herself again it was for the man next to her. Sam. The father of her child. He needed to hear what the doctor had to say.
“Yes, I am,” Simone said, wiping her sweaty hand on her dress. She’d chosen to wear a flowery sundress. The weather in Dallas was scorching hot. “Of course.” She cleared her throat. Worried butterflies zipped around in her stomach.
“It seems,” the doctor quickly glanced at Sam before continuing, “that there’s another, smaller mass between your third and fourth vertebrae…”
Simone gasped.
The doctor went on, “As well as another between the first and second.”
Sam sat up straight and squeezed Simone’s hand tighter.
Simone couldn’t breathe. She tried to inhale but she couldn’t do it. She leaned over, hanging her head. Sam got out of his chair and knelt next to her.
“It’s alright,” he repeated over and over.
But the more he said it, the more she didn’t believe it. Simone gritted her teeth and forced back any emotion. Her hair had fallen into her eyes and she tucked it behind her ears. After several more deep breaths, she sat up straight. “I see. So what’s the prognosis?” Simone asked, staring at a point directly above the doctor’s head. She couldn’t look the doctor in the eyes, and she sure as hell couldn’t look at Sam. One tumor was bad enough, but three? Damn. Damn. Damn. Receiving the news the second time around was worse. Much, much worse.
Sam knelt next to her a moment longer, but when he realized she wouldn’t look at him, he moved over to his seat.
The doctor cleared her throat. “I think we need to go after the cancer aggressively. I think we should operate to remove them and then—”
“Wait.” Simone raised her hand. “My doctor told me the tumor I had was inoperable, that the only treatment was chemo. Are you saying you can operate on them?”
“Yes, Miss St. James, I’m saying I can operate and that I can get most if not all of the tumors. Once the operation is over, I’ll recommend you go through a round of chemotherapy and that should destroy the rest.” The doctor smiled slightly. “Between the two treatments, your body should be cancer free.”
Simone leaned forward. “And what are the risks of doing the operation?” Obviously if her doctor said he couldn’t do it that meant it was difficult to say the least, probably near impossible.
“Well,” the doctor took off her reading glasses and clasped her hands together. “There is a chance you’ll be paralyzed, if not fully then partially from the waist down, and there’s also the possibility that there’ll be complications while you’re on the table and you could die.”
Simone finally glanced at Sam. Was he hearing what the doctor said? She might die on the table or at least be paralyzed. Sam was pale and his jaws were clenched together.
Sam was freaking out.
Keeping her eyes on him, Simone asked, “Okay, and if I don’t do the surgery? What then? How much time will I have?”
The doctor nodded as though she expected the question. “Then you’ll live a relatively pain free life over the next two months and possibly up to a year.”
Sam closed his eyes and Simone felt the butterflies in her stomach shatter into a million pieces.
“How soon do I need to give you an answer?” Simone turned back to the doctor.
“The sooner the better.” The doctor clicked a few buttons on her computer. “I can get you in for the surgery on Friday at eight-thirty in the morning, if that’s what you decide to do.” She leaned back. “Mr. Merrick, do you have any questions?”
Sam opened his eyes. “No, not at the moment.” He stood and stuck out his hand. The doctor took it. “Thank you so much for your time, Vivianne. I really—” his voice broke.
“It’s my pleasure, Sam. Really.” She patted his hand.
Sam grabbed Simone’s arm and he walked her to the door. “We’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow. Will that be enough time?”
“Yes, that’ll be fine.”
Simone and Sam left. They walked past the receptionist desk and over to the elevator. Sam pushed the down arrow. Simone sensed the stress rolling through him.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked quietly.
He glanced over but didn’t respond.
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. He pushed the L for lobby and they rode down in silence.
When they were outside Sam leaned over, taking in big gulps of air. Simone stood beside him, resting a hand on his back, wondering if he was going to be sick. Sabrina had been sick often enough that Simone figured she could handle it. What she wasn’t prepared for was the sob that ripped from his chest. It tore into her.
“Sam,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. They were on the sidewalk. People gave them a wide b
erth and she was grateful.
He seemed to suddenly realize where they were and stood, adjusted his expensive suit jacket, and grabbed her hand. They walked to his vehicle—a big black truck. He unlocked it and helped Simone in.
When the doors were shut Sam started the engine, then turned to face her. “You’re having the surgery.”
“Excuse me?” Simone said, irritated by his commanding voice. It wasn’t his decision. And he had no right to tell her what to do.
“There isn’t even a question. Of course you’ll have the surgery.”
She buckled her seatbelt and turned away from him. “I could die,” she whispered, thinking about Sabrina. There would be no more seeing her daughter’s beautiful face, never another kiss on her chubby cheeks or her sweet feet. Nothing. Simone wasn’t ready for that possibility. If she was going to die, she needed more time.
“You won’t die. You won’t,” he said, his voice full of anguish.
It almost killed Simone hearing the pain in his voice. He’d already lost his first love, and now he might lose her. She wished there was a way she could take his pain away. She would do nearly anything in her power to make him happy. Anything.
“You don’t know that. You heard what the doctor said. There could be complications. Or I could be paralyzed.” Simone glanced at him, needing him to really understand what he was asking. “Four days and I might not see Sabrina again.” Tears filled her eyes and leaked onto her cheek. She didn’t stop them. “Four more days and I might lose you again. Don’t you get that? At least if I don’t have the surgery I’ll be guaranteed at least another two months. That’s better. That gives me time.”
“You’re selfish,” Sam barked and threw the car into Drive. He pulled out into traffic.
Simone grabbed the dash. “It’s selfish that I want more time with the people I love?” Her mom and sisters had come to stay at Sam’s gigantic house while she had the tests done. It’d been great having them all together under one roof. Sam fit right in with the St. James girls. He was sweetly flirty with her mom and brotherly with her sisters.
Summer Love Page 5