by Lindy Dale
“Well, she was being a sissy.”
“Did you actually tell her to suck it up?”
“Yep. She was doing my head in. All that wailing. I don’t have painkillers strong enough for that nonsense.”
Jared smiles and on the bed between us, I feel his finger caressing my finger. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I met her. You’re an amazing woman, Sophie Molloy.”
Suddenly I feel a bit bashful and not in the least bit amazing.
“You’re not too bad either.”
Jared shuffles closer. His hand moves to stroke the edge of my cheek along my jaw. His fingers trace my lips in a most un-doctorly way. My heart begins to flutter. It’s doing flip-flops in my chest. I hold my breath because I know he’s going to kiss me and, this time, nothing will stop him. Nobody would dare open the curtain without announcing their presence first. We’ve seen him when he’s angry and it’s not a pretty sight.
His face is close, now. His lips meet mine in a kiss that feels so natural, it’s like we’ve done it a million times before. I don’t want him to stop. I never want him to stop. The only problem is, he has to. He’s sat on my drain tube. It’s tugging on my skin and if I don’t get some leverage I might squeal louder than Olga.
Epilogue
Six Months Hence
I’m packing a bag for what I hope is my last hospital stay for the rest of my life. Tomorrow, Dr. Clifford is giving me my nipples back. Like a good bottle of bubbles, they’ve been on ice for a very long time, waiting for the day they’d get to play their part in this circus that’s been my journey with Breast Cancer. Way back in the beginning of this, I signed something that said I wanted to retain them if I could, but now the time has come I don’t care what I get, as long as they match. I’ve always been about matching. Two boobs, no boobs. Don’t care as long as I’m symmetrical. I’ve joked with everyone that Dr. Clifford’s going to Super Glue my nipples into place and it’ll be over. Lani, of course, believed me.
“I hope Dr. Clifford’s got a good ruler,” she said. “It’d be a bugger if you came out with one nipple higher than the other when you can’t take them off.”
Mum was more practical. “At least you won’t have one inny and one outy, if they’re made from the same stock.” Like me, she likes things to match, as long as it’s not outfits for her and Colin.
It’s been over two years since the day I was diagnosed. In that time, I can count nine surgeries — tomorrow being the tenth and final — a double mastectomy, a massive infection, one failed reconstruction, one hernia and one implant replacement because it turned out so small I looked like I had a mosquito bite for a boob. I’ve been pumped up with saline and poked and prodded by untold numbers of people I’ll never see again. Yet, I’m eternally grateful to each and every one of them and as this chapter closes, I’m feeling like I’m being cut adrift. I’m very sentimental. They’ve been a part of my life for so long, I’m sure I’ll feel lost without them. For a little while, anyway.
I’ve had other changes too, of course. I’ve moved house, lost a friend and gained a business partner. The business is now doing so well on the back of Lani’s ideas with handbag rental and the cancer t-shirts that we’ve had to hire another staff member to handle the internet side of things. And next week, I’m to be a speaker at a Cancer Council dinner. Me. Plain old Sophie. Jared nominated me for the spot. After the way I handled Olga, he’s positive I can make a difference simply by sharing my story. I have the perfect outfit picked out, too. I’m wearing the cancer t-shirt Lani had made for me. I’ve decided the message sums up my feelings in a way I never could. I’d love for cancer to get cancer and die.
I zip up my overnight bag and go into the bathroom to begin the process of waxing and shaving that seems to have become my pre-admission ritual. As I bend over the tub, I feel a presence behind me, a hand on my bottom.
“De-hairing are we?”
“Yep.”
Jared slides his arms around me and I put down the razor, turning into his embrace. He kisses the tip of my nose. “A wise move. Those theatre staff can be brutal when you’re unconscious.”
“I knew it!”
Brendan always said I was being paranoid but they do pay attention to your personal grooming. Ha. I feel quite smug, yet slightly appalled. I mean, shouldn’t they be thinking about fixing me, not how hairy my bikini line is?
“I’m joking,” Jared says, noting my semi-horrified reaction. “We have far better things to do in theatre than worry about the patient’s hairy legs. Though yours are looking rather nice right now.”
“My legs are not hairy!”
“That came out wrong, didn’t it? What I meant to say was, I’d like you to wrap those legs around me. Let’s go to bed.”
“Now? It’s the middle of the afternoon. I have to pick Rory up from Angela’s in an hour.”
“Plenty of time for what I have in mind.”
We’ve taken this slowly for the past few months, letting this new relationship unfold like the petals of a flower. I’m happy about this. Even though I’m mad for Jared and find it hard to keep my hands off him, it’s sensible not to rush into something new. I want to make the most of this lovely feeling.
And we all know he doesn’t like to fail.
There’s no denying it’s getting serious, though. Next week we’re getting our boys together for their first play date and when Mum and Colin come for my birthday, we’re going to announce ourselves publicly as a couple. Until now, it’s only been Lani, Jeff and Angela who know the truth.
Bending down, Jared scoops me into his arms and carries me to the bed. I lay my head against his chest. “Remember the last time you carried me like this?” I say. “When I was in hospital?”
I’d been so weak that day, I couldn’t make the toilet by myself, not even with one of those walkers they give to the elderly and the assistance of the nurse.
“You’re not intending to throw up on me again, are you?” His hands are already undoing my blouse. “Because I’ll take my clothes off first, if that’s the case.”
“Not this time.” I place my lips on his neck and let him undress me. His fingers are gentle on my scars. His eyes are full of love.
“You don’t mind?” I ask, when his head is bent, nuzzling in the gap of my cleavage.
“Not in the least. To me, your scars are a sign of your strength.”
I don’t understand how such perfect responses can be so genuine.
“You don’t think I’m damaged?” I’ve wanted to ask him this for the longest time. After Brendan, it’s something I’ve struggled with — that a man won’t find me attractive because of my imperfections.
“Perfection is overrated. There are too many vain women in the world who pay untold amounts to achieve it. You’re natural. You’re beautiful and unique and I wouldn’t want you any other way. It’s why I love you.”
I sit up on the bed.
“You love me?”
“Since that first day you walked into my office with your big bright smile and jokes about a non-existent flabby stomach. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I knew I shouldn’t be. It certainly wasn’t ethical. I thought the game was up when Catherine asked why I’d taken your stitches out myself.”
“Isn’t that standard practise?”
“Not since I employed two nurses to do it for me.”
“Oops.” I smile. “That first day, you know, I thought you were the hottest man I’d ever seen.”
“But you don’t now?”
“What do you think?”
I reach down and take his face in my hands, pulling him up my chest so I can kiss him. Never in my wildest dreams have I ever imagined having Breast Cancer would be the catalyst for so many changes in my life. That loony Madame Zara might have been more on the money than I realised. She did say there was going to be a man with a ‘J’ and lovely green eyes.
THE END
Did you enjoy this story? Why not sign up to Lindy’s email list where you ca
n receive updates and information on future releases plus the chance to score new release giveaways
CLICK HERE
This weekend only (Sept 4-8) purchase ALL of Lindy’s titles for either FREE or .99c!!!
Click here to get these awesome bargains!!
Click here to try a novella bundle for only .99c!
All of Lindy’s novellas in one book
Test out Lindy’s steamy new romantic serial #SEVENDAYS
Book One of the series is FREE
Click here
Or discover other novel length titles by Lindy here
Storm in a B Cup ~ Sophie’s (and Lindy’s) breast cancer story of love and laughter
Thin Girls Don’t Eat Cake ~ Fall in love with Olivia and Cole as they fall head over heels for each other. Literally.
Perhaps… Perhaps ~ OCD Flora learns how to let go and take a chance with Luke
Heart of Glass ~ A reunion romance. Ben & Bella belong together but life always seems to get in the way.
The Taming of the Bastard ~ The story of lovable rogue Sam and how Millie whipped him into shape.
The Bastard Takes a Wife ~ Sam and Millie finally tie the knot
Angel’s Bend ~ A paranormal page turner starring doomed eighteen year old Lacey and her guardian angel, Cam.
Want a quick fun read?
Try one of Lindy’s bestselling sweet romantic novellas
Daisy Darling Meets A Man ~ Daisy the farm girl falls for Hawk the rock star
It Started With a Kiss ~ Georgie and Nate rekindle a love that began when they were eight
A Cupid Kind of Day ~ Lily learns that Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to suck when she meets gorgeous Damon in a cobbler’s shop
And now enjoy a chapter from Lindy’s latest novel
Thin Girls Don’t Eat Cake
Chapter 1
“Are you serious?”
“’Fraid so.”
Looking across the counter at Connor, I swallowed my shock, trying to take control of the hurt raging inside.
“You’re breaking up with me?”
“Sorry…”
I stared into Connor’s round dark eyes, framed by thin wire glasses and filled with a look that had nothing to do with being sorry. There wasn’t a hint of guilt or sorrow, rather a type of grimace that indicated he couldn’t understand why he’d gone out with me in the first place. My mind began to whirl. The blood began to boil in my veins as I tried to make sense of the bombshell he’d just dropped.
How could this have happened? I hadn’t mentioned the ‘L’ word. I hadn’t been needy or clingy. I’d followed every guideline in that Cosmopolitan dating article. Everything had been going so well.
Or it was on my end, anyway.
Connor’s and mine had been a whirlwind romance beginning the moment our eyes met over the organic bananas at the supermarket. We’d gone on six dates in the past three weeks. Connor was the perfect gentleman, in fact, so much of a gentleman I was beginning to get a little concerned he hadn’t put the hard word on me. Connor told me he loved my hair. He liked the fact I had my own business. He complimented me on my sense of humour and whispered some rather dirty sweet nothings in my ear. We’d even had a romantic picnic under the willow tree at Apex Park with a bottle of Moet.
I repeat, Moet.
Nobody in Merrifield drank Moet unless they were at a wedding, and even then, the instances of such extravagance were few and far between.
I tilted my head, feeling my brow crinkle in confusion. Okay, not confusion. I was crinkling it purposely so I wouldn’t begin to cry because I certainly wasn’t giving Connor that satisfaction.
“Does this have anything to do with last night?” I asked.
“No, no. I don’t think it’s going to work between us, that’s all.”
The shuffling of Connor’s feet and the uncomfortable shifting of his body — like he’d suddenly become infested with worms or the victim of a disastrous rash — told another story. What did he take me for?
Last night was the first time Connor and I had done the deed. Being so convinced that he was the one, I hadn’t wanted to have sex until the moment was right and him cooking dinner for me at his place seemed like the appropriate time. I’d even bought a matching set of lingerie in preparation. Yes, the knickers were a tad on the snug side when I’d put them on and my boobs were sort of exploding from the bra but Connor loves red. And boobs. Or so he said.
Yet, despite the fact I hadn’t eaten all day to ensure my stomach remained as flat as possible and had plucked and shaved my body until it practically begged me to desist, I sensed a certain hesitance on Connor’s part after he’d stripped me of my clothes. It was as if his whole demeanour changed when he discovered I wasn’t the kind of girl who looked hot in see-through undies.
“Did I suck or something?”
“Of course not.”
I gave myself a silent pat on the back. I knew I hadn’t. I had certain skills that had been described as ‘bloody marvellous’ and ‘fucking awesome’ in the past. Unfortunately, they didn’t appear to be enough of a lure for Connor.
“Then, why?”
Connor let out a great big sigh. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting the break up to be so difficult. He placed his hands squarely on the counter and looked into my eyes. A muscle twitched at the edge of his jaw. “Look. I just don’t find you that attractive with your clothes off, if you want to know.”
My eyes opened so wide they began to smart. They really hurt. “Pardon?”
“You have cellulite, Livvy. Your bum looks like an unpeeled orange. You don’t look good naked. In fact, you’re way fatter than you led me to believe.”
I didn’t know whether to be mad or upset or both. How was it possible to be fatter than one looked in real life? So, I wore slimming jeans and a push-up bra. Heaps of girls did. They didn’t change the shape of you that much. It was marketing hype to get you to buy stuff.
The hideous truth of the previous night began to sink in. “Is that why we had to have the light off?”
“Partly.”
“What’s the rest?” I figured I might as well get the full story while he was in a truth-telling mood.
“I thought you were a natural blonde. When the bush doesn’t match the garden, well, it’s a real turn off.”
I could feel my mouth opening and closing involuntarily. The cheek. Nobody was a natural blonde at our age. “So, let me get this straight, you don’t want to go out with me anymore because you feel you’ve been… uh… misled?”
“Something like that. Look, I’m sorry.”
“For what? Calling me fat or for the fact that you’re a complete arsehole? Tell me, was that wining and dining merely to get me in the sack?”
“Of course not.”
Which totally meant it was.
“How many other girls have you picked up in the banana aisle?”
Connor looked sheepish. “Only a couple. But listen, you’re a nice girl. I like you — as a person — and I’d be willing to go out with you again after you drop ten or so kilos.”
Oh. My. God.
“Get out, Connor. Get out now.” Moving from behind the counter, I shoved Connor towards the door and down the two steps that lead to the footpath. I was so tempted to kick his bum on the way out my foot began to rise of its own accord. “Oh, and Connor?”
He turned.
“I might be able to lose a few kilos but you’re never going to hide that bald spot by combing hair over it. It’s way bigger than it was a week ago.”
Slamming the door after him, I leant my forehead against the glass, stopping to take a few deep, calming breaths. My entire body was trembling. My lungs felt as if the air had been sucked from them. A vein had begun to pound on the side of my head. Then, from somewhere inside, a twisted sort of chuckle formed and I started to laugh-cry all in one go. I might have been dumped but at least I’d given him something to think about. Not that I felt any better for it. The sense of gratification was instantly gone.<
br />
Rummaging in my pocket for my keys, I flipped the shop sign to ‘Back in 5 minutes’, checked that Connor wasn’t watching from behind a car or something — because I wouldn’t have put it past him to be happy to see me suffer — and bolted down the street to the Maggie’s Bakery.
Yes, I was well aware that it was two o’clock in the afternoon and the lunch trade had probably cleaned out the shelves, but if Maggie didn’t have any peppermint slices left there was going to be hell to pay.
Chapter 2
My foot tapped impatiently as I watched Maggie slide the glass door of the cake cabinet along. Dark chocolaty stripes of icing beckoned me as she lifted the slice from the tray. The sweet scent of peppermint filled my nostrils as she tonged it into a white paper bag. I was salivating in anticipation.
Okay, not outwardly salivating because that would have made me look like a dog or a deranged person in need of medication, but on the inside I was definitely drooling. I needed a fix. Badly. I wished she’d hurry.
I’d bought three slices to add to the ruse that I was buying for other shop owners along the street, but I could tell from the look on Maggie’s face she wasn’t having any of it. You wouldn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out I was going straight back to Doggie Divas to eat the lot myself.
“You okay, love?” Maggie folded the top of the bag and gave it a neat crease. Her eyes fell to my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides.
“Yeah, Maggie, I’m fine.”
“Man trouble again?”
The peppermint slice was a dead give away. On happy days, I preferred one of Maggie’s monster slabs of mud cake or a creamy chocolate éclair, thick with icing. My favourite though, was the giant cupcakes Maggie made with faces in the icing crafted from lollies. They were like a double sugar hit.
“Connor broke up with me. He didn’t like the fact I wasn’t a natural blonde. Oh, and he thought he was getting a Lindt chocolate but ended up with a lumpy Picnic bar when he took off the wrapping. Not to worry though, he said he’d take me back if I dropped a few kilos.”