Selena remained silent for a moment. “Is that how you think, feel, when you’re—doing what you do?”
“Yeah. And I do whatever I have to so I can come home to you and Lucia.”
Her fingers tightened around his. Her eyes glazed with tears.
“My job is my job, Selena and it’s important. But you and Lucia are my world.”
She looked out to sea. “Do you think it’s any different for me?”
He frowned, his throat tight with emotion. “No. I know it’s the same.”
The continued to hold hands while their daughter played.
Meantime, the tide crept closer to the blanket and to Lucia’s small section of beach.
Selena seemed calmer now. “Is Lucia hungry yet?” Oliver asked, loud enough for his daughter to hear.
“Yes!” She struggled to her feet, covered in sand with the bulldozer in hand.
Oliver grimaced. “We need a built-in shower for the van. I picked the only beach in Laguna without a bathroom.”
“No worries. I brought fresh clothing. We never leave home without at least three outfits.”
Selena did so many things he’d never noticed. He needed to start paying attention in case he had to help out later.
*
They ate at Las Brisas as she’d suggested. The popular restaurant was crowded and noisy and made up for the quiet at their table. They shared a bit of the food from both their plates with Lucia, and she surprised them both by eating guacamole.
On the way home Lucia valiantly fought sleep as she watched a cartoon on the iPad Selena kept in her bag. As her eyes closed, it slid from her grasp to balance precariously on her lap. Selena caught it before it could hit the floor and unplugged the earphones.
Oliver’s words earlier at the beach replayed in her mind. He was right, she owed it to him, and to Lucia, to embrace her life the best she could. She was alive right now. Not dying. She tilted her head back and watched the light fade from the horizon and turn to a velvety purple. She had to find her way around the fear and move on.
When Oliver pulled into their driveway and parked, he said, “I’ll get Lucia if you can get the bag with her medicine. I’ll unload the other stuff in the morning.”
“Okay.” Selena got out and opened the side door to get the tote bag she’d stored behind the seat, then stepped back so Oliver could get Lucia. She lay limp against Oliver’s shoulder, deeply asleep. Selena eased the van door closed and hurried to open the front door, then lock it behind them. She followed Oliver down the hall to Lucia’s room and folded down the comforter and sheet so he could slide her into bed.
Selena eased Lucia’s sneakers off, then her socks, and brushed the sand from her feet before tucking them beneath the sheet. A bath and clean sheets would be the first order of business in the morning.
Oliver drew the sheet and comforter up over the sleeping toddler and leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek.
He straightened and breathed against Selena’s ear, “I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?”
She turned to look up at him, and he kissed her. Warm and soft, his lips moved against hers, tempting her to lean into him and increase the pressure.
He was her light, her world, just as he said she and Lucia were his. She needed to be close to him. He made her feel stronger.
She ran her hands up under his T-shirt and caressed the flat planes of his shoulder blades as she nestled in close and felt the immediate response of his body to hers. Would he still react the same way if they took her breast?
Desperation took hold and she tugged her hands free of his shirt, encircled his neck with her arms. She needed to forget everything but them for a little while. She broke the kiss. “How about that shower?”
Oliver took her hand and pulled her toward their bedroom.
*
As the only child of an Irish American father with Native American roots and an Italian mother, Oliver had believed he knew all about love until he met Selena. She had been shy at first, but seductive at the same time. He’d wondered about those mixed signals until he figured out she was as inexperienced as he was about real passion, and neither of them had any idea how to handle the fact that they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. All they had to do was be in the same room for it to combust. It had taken them by storm, and they married before either of them graduated.
She loved with the hot, passionate nature of her Mediterranean heritage. In the shower, the brush of her soapy hand along his rib cage, the sweet scrape of her teeth against his shoulder, made every nerve sing. His cock hardened, and when her hand encircled it, running up and down its length, he thought he might explode.
“My turn, cara mia.”
He turned so the shower spray would stream over his shoulder and down between them. He filled his hand with body wash and guided her to turn so she could lean back against him. He soaped her throat, her shoulders, careful not to put any pressure on her breasts. He wanted to give her pleasure, but to feel the lump himself would destroy him. Instead he cupped the underside of both and kneaded them, then toyed with her nipples.
Her bottom moved back against him, his erection sliding between the cheeks of her ass while her hands gripped the outside of his thighs. Looking down on her soapy, water-slick breasts, Oliver had to count backwards from twenty-five to keep from going off right then.
When he was certain of his control, he pumped more bath wash into his hand and continued down the slope of her ribs to her belly. He nipped the smooth skin of her shoulder and tasted the water and the lingering essence of the soap as he caressed her upper thighs, then moved inward till his fingers found the moist heat between her legs.
Selena braced a foot on the edge of the tub, giving him complete access as she moved beneath his touch. Her throaty groan echoed against tile and tub while he caressed the tiny, sensitive nub of flesh at the top of her nether lips, then slid a finger into her. Her channel felt hot, and the ripple of her body drew it in further.
It was his groan that bounced around the shower then. He needed to be inside her. Resting a hand against her belly he dragged her back beneath the spray and let the water run down their bodies and rinse the soap away.
He stepped out of the shower and, grabbing a towel, offered her a hand. He looped the towel around her hips and, walking backward, guided her toward the bed.
“We’ve left the water on,” she said, her voice breathy and soft.
“I’ll get it later.”
“We’re still wet.”
“So?”
They fell upon the bed together, and, for the first time since he’d arrived home, Selena laughed. The sound, throaty and hoarse, was the biggest seduction of all. He loved her laugh. He kissed her and she hooked a leg over his hip, urging him on. He rolled between her thighs and gave them both what they wanted. The sweet, moist heat of her welcomed him, and he stilled, savoring the sensation as their bodies meshed. “I love you, Selena.”
“Per l’eternità?” For all time?
“Per l’eternità,” he agreed.
“Then I am whole.”
Forever. He moved, filling her, then drawing almost free, and her hands gripped his hips. Her body tensed and pulsed, bearing down on him, then opening for his next thrust. This erotic dance they had performed for eight years together had never seemed more intense, more passionate. Her hand slid between them to cup his balls, and her thumb rested at the base of his erection, putting more upward pressure on his thrusts, giving them both more pleasure.
She murmured his name, her voice breaking with emotion. Her hips rolled and she contracted around him as she found what she sought, so he buried himself in her and welcomed his own release.
Though he’d never before been emotional during sex, tears clouded his vision now, and he turned his face into the strands of wet hair curling across her pillow. Per l’eternità.
Chapter Four
‡
Selena kept a tight grip on her purse strap. S
he rarely carried more than a small clutch, but today needed something more substantial to cling to. She scanned the waiting room one more time, for lack of anything else to do, but the landscape hadn’t changed in the past five minutes. Women sat around the room in various postures and stages of pregnancy, along with women like her waiting to see the doctor for other reasons.
Like all doctors’ waiting rooms, the patients spoke in subdued tones, but there were laughter and smiles as well. How far along are you? Don’t you just hate it when your feet swell? All the discomfort and joy of pregnancy was bounced back and forth, though the women were often strangers. A young woman sat two seats down from them, her baby, tiny, carefully swaddled in a carrier/car seat. She was probably there for her two-week checkup.
Oliver sat beside her and, though he held a National Geographic, and his eyes rested on a page, but he hadn’t turned it. In fact, if his eyes had not been open, she’d have sworn he was taking one of his power naps. Men were always uncomfortable in a gynecologist’s office, but was he experiencing the same heart-sickening fear and pain she was?
An older woman, maybe in her early fifties, entered the office, checked in at the window and sat down near the door. A brightly colored scarf, pulled tight around her head, followed the round curve of her skull and ended in a long tail down her back.
Selena fought the urge to brush back a long strand of her thick, dark hair for fear the woman would notice.
Would she lose her hair, too? Of course she would.
Her heart raced, harsh and sickening. Nausea surged up to coat her mouth with saliva. Sweat pooled beneath her arms and between her breasts.
A nurse came to the door leading back into the examining rooms and Selena’s head jerked up along with everyone else’s. The nurse’s eyes came to rest on her, “Selena.”
Oliver reached for her arm. Her legs shook as she stood.
“Doctor Sanderlin will see you in her office now.” The nurse led the way past a number of examination rooms and turned two corners before they arrived at a door. The black plate fastened to it at eye level read Captain Alicia Sanderlin M.D. ObGyn. After a brief tap the nurse opened the door and motioned them in. “Please have a seat, Dr. Sanderlin will be with you in a moment.”
A large cherry wood desk and desk chair dominated the room, its surface cluttered with paperwork. A bud vase with three pink roses, some baby’s-breath, and greenery sat on one corner. Behind it a bookcase stretched, filled with medical texts and decorative knickknacks. Three well-stuffed armchairs upholstered in a rich burgundy fabric sat in front of the desk in a curve. Striped drapes matched their color and the gray carpet.
They’d barely sat down when Dr. Sanderlin rushed in. Oliver stood politely while Selena shoved to her feet.
“I’m sorry you had to wait, Ensign Shaker, Selena.” She paused to shake Oliver’s hand, then retrieved a file from her desk, and, instead of sitting behind it, she repositioned the third chair so she could face them both.
Her gaze moved from Oliver to Selena and stayed there. The woman had been her ObGyn since they’d moved to San Diego, and Selena trusted her to be both caring and a straight shooter. But God, she wanted to be anywhere else but sitting in front of her in this chair now.
“I have some good news and some not so good news,” she said, her pale green eyes steady. “Mixed in with all the other tests we ran last week, we did a pregnancy test, and it came back positive.”
Selena caught her breath and her hand instinctively curved around her lower abdomen. Oh, God, what would this mean if she was sick? “I’m a little late, but I thought it was probably because of…of…everything else.”
“Well, from your HCG levels, I’d say you’re between six and seven weeks pregnant. Before you leave today we’ll do a preliminary exam and try and pin it down.”
Selena reached out to Oliver, and he took her hand and squeezed it, but his open joy when he’d gotten the news about Lucia was absent, as it was for her. The worry overshadowed everything else. How were they supposed to feel about this?
Dr. Sanderlin drew a deep breath. “Now for the not so good news.” She opened the file. “The surgical oncologist we referred you to submitted this pathology report to me. I want to go over everything with you both in depth.”
Selena nodded, unable to speak.
“The tissue sample did show a malignancy.”
Oliver’s fingers squeezed hers almost to the point of pain, then eased off.
Selena curled the fingers of her other hand against her throat as bile rose again.
“From the position of the tumor, we believe it is Ductal Carcinoma. An HER2 test was done. This test detects the proteins in the cancer cells which tell the cells to grow and divide. It came back negative, which is a very good thing. We also tested the tissue to see if it was hormone-receptor negative or positive. It is positive for hormone receptors.”
Dr. Sanderlin slid closer to the edge of her seat. “With this type of cancer, the tumor feeds off the estrogen in your system. But, based on the numerous ultrasound images we did, it’s fairly small, so we’ll be able to tell if it’s spread beyond the boundaries of the initial tumor when it’s surgically removed and a dissection of your lymph nodes is performed. You’ll return to the surgical oncologist for the removal. I’ve already talked to him and set up an appointment for you. As soon as you meet with him, they’ll schedule your surgery.”
Selena’s face felt numb. “Won’t the anesthesia harm the baby?”
“I’ll be working closely with Dr. Brooks, Selena, so you and the baby will get the best care.” Dr. Sanderlin turned to lay the file on her desk. “The first step in finding out how we need to treat this malignancy is to remove it and see how far it’s spread. We don’t want to wait to remove the tumor and any affected tissue.”
Oliver’s expression was wooden with control. The only thing that moved was his throat as he swallowed.
“Once we get the results from your surgery, I’ll refer you to a medical oncologist. Dr. Dixon has a wonderful reputation and is a very caring doctor. I think you’ll like him.
“Though pregnancy makes it more difficult to treat cancer,” the doctor continued, “we can treat it. But we won’t be able to start you on hormone therapy or radiation until the baby is born. And we can’t start chemotherapy until you’re at least four months along. We can’t treat your cancer as aggressively as we would if you weren’t pregnant, but we can fight it and keep it in check until the birth, and then get more aggressive afterward if we need to.”
Her throat ached from the effort not to cry. “What about the chemotherapy?”
“Dr. Dixon will go over the protocols with you, but there are drugs we can use which won’t impact the baby. He’ll give you medications to control your pain and nausea, but your body will be going through a lot.”
“And if she weren’t pregnant?” Oliver spoke for the first time.
Selena jerked around to look at him while her heart sank. He couldn’t be serious.
“If she weren’t pregnant, you could attack this thing full-on, right? Wipe it out.” There was an edge to Oliver’s voice she had never heard before, a blend of rage and pain that gripped her by the throat and brought tears to her eyes.
Dr. Sanderlin paused a moment to study him. “In years past, termination of the pregnancy was suggested as part of the protocol for treatment. But we no longer encourage that first thing. I recommend you wait for the results of Selena’s surgery and make a decision then. There will still be time if that’s the course the two of you settle on.” There was no judgment in her tone, only compassion. “Breast cancer is survivable, Ensign Shaker. Selena will have three doctors in her corner, making sure she gets everything she needs to overcome this.”
Dr. Sanderlin stood. “I’m going to take Selena down the hall and do a brief exam. You can stay here while we accomplish that, and I’ll send her back here when we’re done.”
*
As soon as the door closed behind the two women,
Oliver leaned forward in his chair, dropped his face onto his hands, closed his eyes, and took deep, gulping gasps of air to keep from vomiting. He finally succeeded in quelling the nausea somewhat.
Dear God, she had cancer. Selena had cancer. He had prayed, hoped it wasn’t cancer. He’d prayed for anything but that. And gotten a pregnancy in return.
He paced the office, feeling caged, smothered by his rampaging fears and the rage accompanying them.
Had the changes in her hormones triggered the cancer? Would the baby they’d been trying to conceive kill her? And how would he live with that?
His military training said if something was a threat to life, you took it out. End of discussion.
But the baby would delay her treatment, curtail it. He knew Selena would never agree to ending the pregnancy. He’d seen her reaction. That fierce, protective, instinctive response the news had sparked.
How could he fight her maternal instinct? How could he fight his own conscience long enough to argue for termination?
But if it came down to a choice between her or the baby, Selena had to take priority. She had to agree with that. She was everything—to him, to Lucia.
An exam supposed to take a few minutes stretched on to half an hour. Worry set in and Oliver breathed a sigh and rose when Dr. Sanderlin came into the office.
“I thought I’d take a moment to give you an update, Ensign Shaker. May I call you Oliver?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Have a seat,” she pointed at the chair he’d just vacated.
She settled into the chair closest to him. “From the physical exam and the information Selena shared with me, we’ve determined she’s seven weeks pregnant. She’s understandably excited and frightened at the same time.”
“Could the pregnancy have triggered the cancer?” he asked.
“I don’t believe so. From the size and position of the tumor, I’d say it already had a start before she became pregnant.”
“She does self-exams every month.”
“And that probably helped her detect the tumor before it spread any further but a woman can have a malignancy before it’s ever detected, even with a mammogram. When Selena has her surgery, we’ll know more about whether it has spread to the lymph nodes. Please try to stay calm, for your benefit as well as hers. Once the tumor has been removed, we’ll know where we need to go from there.”
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