Presently Perfect (Perfect #3)

by Alison G. Bailey

  “Emily! Um… this is…,” Tweet stammered.

  “Exactly what you think it is.” I finished her sentence.

  Emily’s mouth opened and closed several times before any words were formed.

  “How long have I been gone?”

  “Well, things happened kind of quick. Right, Noah?” Tweet’s head tilted back as she glanced up at me.

  “I wouldn’t call nineteen years in the making quick,” I said, sarcastically.

  Tweet back elbowed me in the ribs. “He’s joking. He’s a jokester.” Awkward pause. “Emily… say something… please.”

  Sensing that the sisters needed a few minutes alone, I decided it would be a good idea for me to disappear into Tweet’s room. Not to mention the fact that I had just realized I was standing in front of Emily in only my boxers.

  In one simultaneous flash, I took a step back, dropped my hands from Tweet’s shoulders. Emily opened her mouth to talk, and Tweet started tipping over.

  “Noah! My leg!”

  Emily lunged forward as I flung my arm around Tweet’s waist, catching her before she hit the floor. Turning her to face me, I squatted down, wrapped my arms around her thighs, and lifted Tweet over my shoulder.

  “Welcome home, Emily,” I said, heading down the hall.

  “Yeah, welcome home, sis!” Tweet giggled.

  “I think the two of you together is fantastic and about damn time!” Emily yelled.

  Once in the bedroom I dropped a laughing Tweet onto the bed and fell on top of her.

  “We’ve been found out. How long do you think it will be before she informs the parental units?”

  “Knowing my sister, she probably speed dialed Mom before we even got to my bedroom door.”

  My hand roamed up the side of her body, slipping under her shirt.

  “Noah, what are you doing?” Tweet slapped her hand on top of mine.

  “I’m following through on our original plan before we got interrupted.”

  “We can’t do that now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Emily is in the next room.”

  “And your point?”

  “She’ll think we’re having sex.” She whispered the last word.

  “Then by all means let’s not disappoint her.”

  “What if she hears us?”

  “You’ll just have to keep your cries of sweet ecstasy to a low murmur.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “Tweet, I did not wait all these years to be cock-blocked by your sister, who, by the way, already knows and is probably expecting us to engage in sexual activity.”

  Giggling, she said, “You have been a very patient boy.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Lifting her head, she kissed the tip of my chin while rubbing her right lower leg over my ass.

  “Patience is a virtue.”

  “It’s a big one.” The corners of my mouth curled up as I grinded my hips into her.

  She slid my hand farther up under her shirt. “And you should be rewarded for your efforts.”

  “I’m glad you’re starting to see things my way.”

  My gaze was fixated on the pair. It wasn’t as if I’d never seen them before. Maybe it was the positon of my head, but from this angle they appeared larger and more engorged than I remembered. More than likely they were always this size. I was just paying more attention to the details now. Sitting by her side with our hands joined, I rhythmically moved my thumb over her wrist. While she read a book, I stared up at the pair of bags containing her chemo drugs hanging above us, dripping hope into her body.

  I had taken the day off from school so I could be with Tweet during her treatment. She tried to talk me out of it without success. I’d been in this room plenty of times, transporting patients across the street from the main hospital. But today, when we entered, a wave of anxiety surged through my body.

  I watched intensely as the nurses went through the routine of getting Tweet ready. She handled it like a champ, this being a part of her life for the past two and a half months. She didn’t even flinch when they inserted the IV needle into her arm. Tweet had started off using a Port-A-Cath, which had been surgically placed in her upper chest area right before she started treatments. It enabled the nurses to draw blood and administer the chemo without having to stick Tweet with a needle each time. She hated having that thing sticking out of her skin, so when it became infected and had to be removed, she opted to leave it out, requiring the chemo nurses to start an IV each time she was here.

  I ripped my gaze away from the IV bags and scanned the room instead. In an attempt to make the experience as comfortable as possible for the patients, calming and distracting elements were interspersed with the medical equipment. A bookcase piled with magazines, books, DVDs, and some board games shared the wall with the chemo cart stocked with supplies and drugs in case a patient had an allergic reaction. A flat screen TV and DVD player were mounted on the wall in one corner next to a bulletin board covered with information on local support groups, hotlines, and charity events as well as instructions on what to do in case of a toxic spill. Hand sanitizers and latex glove dispensers were strategically placed on the walls around the room between paintings of the ocean, a field full of flowers, and a sunset. The only other furniture in the room were the chairs lining the walls, each with its own IV pole and small side table. I had seen this exact setup before, but now it felt different. When the person you love claims one of the pale pink hospital recliners, the room transforms from a medical facility to a place where you beg for prayers to be answered.

  “There’s still time.” Tweet’s voice caught my attention.

  “Still time for what?”

  “To bow out. Walk away. I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Play dumb. You’re no good at it.” She gave me a weak smile. “This is the time in your life when you should be having fun—traveling, going to parties, meeting new people, hanging out with friends… planning your future.” Her eyes shined, as tears formed. “I can’t attach any of that to my life at the moment, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.”

  She blinked a few times and sniffled in an attempt to keep her emotions in check.

  Letting go of Tweet’s hand, I reached over to the small table next to her chair, grabbed a tissue from the box, and handed it to her. As she dabbed her eyes, the tears slowly leaked out.

  I leaned in close, keeping my voice low, and said, “I hate traveling. I’ve been to my fair share of parties. They’re overrated. I don’t give a shit about meeting new friends. And my future is with you.”

  “You deserve to have a normal life and right now I can’t give that to you.”

  I laced our fingers back together. “Where is this coming from?”

  “I love you so much, Noah. I want you to have the best.”

  “I have the best, with you.”

  “But with someone healthy, someone like Br…”

  “I was never with Brooke.”

  “What?”

  “I was never with her the way I’ve been with you and I never could be.”

  “I always assumed from her comments that it happened soon after you met. And then at your house that day.”

  “She wanted you to think we were having sex. And if I’m being honest, a part of me wanted you to think it too when she and I first started dating. I thought it might make you jealous enough to fight for me… for us.”

  “But you never went through with it?”

  “I tried that night you dumped me after Dad died. I went to her house… I know Brooke isn’t your favorite person.”

  “She’s a sneaky bitch.”

  I chuckled. “Yes she is, but there is some good in her. You have to dig pretty deep, but it’s there. You’ve always been the only one in my heart and in my head. Brooke wanted a future. And no matter
what her motivation, she didn’t deserve a boyfriend who pretended she was someone else when we were together.”

  “Why did you stay with her so long?”

  I glanced away, ashamed at my reason. “She was convenient. When I first met her, I had every intention of trying to move on from you. I mean, you were determined to keep us in the friend zone. I never pursued Brooke. She just kept coming around. Then I saw your reaction to her and thought… It was fucked-up thinking.”

  “What about Brittani?”

  “All she ever wanted was a warm bodied ballplayer. The specific guy was irrelevant to her.”

  “Just know that I’ll understand if all of this gets to be too much for you.”

  “Nothing will ever be too much for us to handle. You’re stuck with me, Tweet.”

  She leaned forward, brushing her lips against mine. “You’re pretty awesome to be stuck to.”

  “Okay! I’m going to bed! I’m grabbing some potato chips and a glass of iced tea for a snack before I go to my room! I’m pouring the tea now!” A few seconds of silence ticked by. “Just picked up the bag of chips! I am now walking toward my room!” Tick, tick, tick. “I’m standing in front of the door to my room! I’m twisting the doorknob, walking into my room, and closing the door!”

  The sound of a purposeful slam reverberated down the hall.

  “What the hell is wrong with your sister?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think she might be going to bed.” Tweet giggled.

  “No shit,” I said sarcastically.

  Tweet was helping me study for an English test I had coming up. She was sitting on her bed, leaning against the headboard, legs stretched out while my head rested in her lap with the textbook propped up on my chest.

  “I believe that was her not-so-subtle way of letting us know that she’d be out of earshot for the rest of the evening. She’s such a goof.”

  “We should probably take advantage of her early bedtime with a little bedtime of our own.”

  I tossed the book to the side, sat up, and shifted, bringing me right in front of Tweet’s gorgeous face. My gaze traveled down before I nipped at her bottom lip. With a slight raise of her shoulders, Tweet’s body trembled.

  “Noah Stewart you never cease to give me the shivers.”

  I raised my hand, slipping my fingers behind her neck and into her hair, as I pulled her to me. I went in for a slow deep kiss. When the kiss ended, our lips stayed connected.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Marry me.”

  Tweet’s gaze moved toward me as the rest of her pulled away.

  “What?”

  “Let’s get married and get our own place.”

  A huge smile broke out across her face. “We will someday.”

  “Not someday. Today. Well, not today, cause its eight o’clock at night. Let’s do it. I don’t want to wait any longer to make you my wife.” I gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

  “Noah… I can’t marry you.”

  “Why not?”

  Her gaze darted away and then down.

  I tilted my head to see her face. “Tweet? What is it?”

  A mixture of guilt and embarrassment clouded her expression. “My medical bills have started coming in. Things are so expensive. Dad’s insurance is great. I can stay on it until I’m twenty-six as long as I remain a dependent.”

  “Tweet, my dad left me a lot of money. I haven’t touched any of it. I can take care of you.”

  Her head was shaking before the last word left my mouth.

  “No. That money is for you and school.”

  “Between the academic scholarships and my college fund, tuition is already covered.”

  “Noah, the cost of my chemo drugs for just one treatment is over nine thousand dollars.”

  “I want to take care of you.”

  Trailing her hand down the side of my face, she said, “You do take care of me.”

  “I want to take care of you completely.”

  “Noah…”

  “It’s my money, Tweet.”

  “And I refuse to let you waste it on me, especially since…” Her lip quivered.

  “Since what?”

  “Since I’m not a sure thing.”

  My eyebrows scrunched together, not understanding what she was saying. “Not a sure thing?”

  She hesitated for several seconds. I didn’t know if it was because she couldn’t find the right words to say or simply couldn’t bring herself to say them out loud.

  Drawing in a deep breath then blowing it out, Tweet admitted, “There’s no guarantee that the chemo will work.”

  “You’re right.”

  I had made a promise to Tweet that she could always talk honestly to me about her illness, even though the subject scared the shit out of me. I’d never dismiss any of her feelings and throw clichéd everything is going to be alright answers at her.

  “You know what they don’t mention when you’re diagnosed?”

  “What?”

  “How much control the disease really has over your life, even after it’s gone. You get fooled into believing that you have the control when you’re given choices on where to have treatment, if you want a port placed or not, or the type of liner you want to wear. And even though Dad’s insurance is great, my parents are having to take money from their savings to pay for this fucking cancer. It won’t even let me say yes to you. Cancer can swoop in and do whatever the hell it wants to do, whenever it wants. And all you can do is readjust to its aftermath. I don’t think about the future, Noah, because I’m scared if I do, the cancer will take that from me too.”

  I choked back my emotions. I was at a loss as to how to respond to her. We had made a pact, not to let the cancer be the focus of our lives unless it demanded our attention. The reality was, she couldn’t honor the pact because the cancer wouldn’t let her. It was present in every minute of her life, whether we talked about it on a daily basis or not. The worse feeling in the world was watching the person you’re in love with suffer and being powerless against it.

  Lifting the bottom of my shirt to her face, I dried her cheeks.

  With a raw throat and scratchy low voice, I said, “You don’t have to think about the future. I’ll handle that.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She choked out between sobs.

  “You’ll never have to find out.”

  Brushing back the hair that skimmed the side of her face, I tucked it behind her ear and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

  Pulling away, I tipped my chin up, and my eyes squinted as an idea occurred to me.

  “I’m gonna buy a condo.”

  “What?” Tweet hiccupped.

  “There’s a great one over where Carter lives. Two bedroom, ground floor. I’m gonna buy it.”

  Tweet gave me a sideways head tilt. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. I have enough money for a nice size down payment, I’ve been working at the hospital for over a year, my credit is good, and I’m sure Mom will co-sign if needed. The only problem is, I need a roommate and I have very particular specifications.”

  “And what might those be?”

  “Delectable dark brown hair, twinkling teal-colored eyes, and plump pale pink lips surrounding a smartass mouth. Curves, gotta have curves. A great rack. Awesome ass. A sensational sense of humor. Intelligence.”

  “You’ve become quite loquacious.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, I said, “Why, thank you. I have no idea what that means.”

  Laughter brightened her face.

  “Noah, don’t do this for me.”

  “I’m not doing it for you. Now, do you happen to know anyone who fits all the requirements?”

  “I don’t have a job to help with expenses.”

  “I’m sure we can work out some form of payment.” I placed a light kiss on her lips. My expression turned serious. “I want to start and end each day with you by my side. I want to make a home with you Tweet.”

  Her
chin trembled as tears seeped out the corners of her eyes. “I want to make a home with you too.”

  Tweet pressed her lips to mine, teasing them with her tongue until they parted. She sighed into my mouth.

  God, I love her sounds.

  “I’m coming out of my bedroom! I forgot to grab the book I’m currently reading! Picking up the book and heading back to my room now!”

  Emily’s loud narration sent a tremor through my body. Tweet’s shoulders shook. Our eyes shot open. Our feeble attempt to hold in our laughter caused our lips to disconnect.

  “I’m gonna get things rolling on that condo first thing in the morning,” I said, falling back onto the bed.

  Craning my neck, I tried to spot what was causing the gridlock. I gripped the strap of my backpack and impatiently tapped the exam book against the side of my thigh. Of all days for me to be running late, it had to be on Tweet’s last day of chemo. I hated that I wasn’t able to be with her during the treatment, but it was the end of my second semester, and I was in the middle of exams. The professor taught three classes of Introduction to Cell and Molecular Biology. He decided it was a good idea to combine all three classes for the final and have it in the huge lecture hall. All I needed to do was drop my paper on the desk at the front of the room and I’d be on my way. The hold up was one hundred twenty other students were trying to do the same thing and they were bottlenecking.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket to text Tweet when I felt a hand on my upper arm. Glancing up, I saw Angela standing on the step above me. I didn’t know her very well. We chatted a few times in class and during a few study group sessions. She had a small frame, short cropped jet black hair, and an unidentifiable swirly tattoo that poked out from the top of her shirt and crawled onto her neck. She was quirky, but seemed nice enough.

  “Hey,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

  “Hey.” I started typing out my text.

  Me: Will be there soon. I lo…

  “So, how do you think you did?”

  My gaze darted to hers. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  She swallowed hard before clearing her throat. “The exam. You think you aced it?”