“Absolutely. I’ll be back in a second, there’s next to no reception in this place.” With a quick hug and kiss to my cheek, Sheena takes my phone into the hallway to honor my request.
I glance to my dad, his eyes glossed over with unshed tears. Mustering up courage, he offers me a few words of encouragement—exactly what I wanted from my mom, but in the depths of my heart knew she couldn’t give me. Thank God I have my daddy here. “You got this, baby girl. Be brave.”
“Always. Have you met my father? Weakness isn’t in our genes. We’re born and bred chock-full of bravery and bravado,” I firmly state, his simple statement giving me the fight and determination I’m going to need to not freak out.
“I need to schedule the O.R. Does anyone have any questions before I leave? I want everyone to have everything they need since I won’t see you again until after the procedure.” The doc’s eyes move to me first, and when I don’t say anything, his gaze moves to my parents. Dad shakes his head. Mom, however … is a plethora of inquisition.
“How long does the surgery take? What’s the recovery time? You said another doctor would be the one getting the biopsy. How many times has he done this procedure? What are the chances this is cancer? If it is cancer, what do we do next? Is she going to be in a lot of pain afterward? When can we take her home?” She fires them off, one after the next, in one single breath, not giving the man a chance to answer any.
“That’s a lot of questions, Mrs. Thompson, and I’m not able to answer the majority of them. I can say, however, Charlie will be in the O.R. for roughly an hour or so. Dr. Abramski is very good at what he does and has been doing it longer than Charlie’s been alive. If my own child were in Charlie’s shoes, he’d be the one I’d want to operate. Her pain might be intense for a little while, but we’ll make sure she’s comfortable—or at least as comfortable as we can get her.”
My mom nods along as he continues to try to comfort her unease.
“As far as the tumor, no two masses are the same. There’s no way to tell if it’s cancerous or not until we’ve had a chance to get the pathology report back. We will rush it and will have answers quickly, and the second we do, you’ll be the second to know. For now, though, let’s breathe a little and get Charlie through this. We can’t get ahead of ourselves. That isn’t healthy for any of you.”
“It’s gonna be okay, sweetie.” My dad wraps his arm around my mom’s shoulders and pulls her into his side—a gesture I’ve seen before and is a clear representation of what love looks like outside the heart. “Let the doctor do his job.” She sags into him. Thank God. If he hadn’t stepped in, she wouldn’t have stopped for hours.
“If I’ve done my best at addressing your concerns, I’m going to go get ready and page Dr. Abramski. The surgical team will be up soon to get Charlie prepped as well. The moment I have Charlie in recovery, myself or one of my residents will be out to give you an update.” Again, he moves his line of sight to me. “How are you feeling, Charlie? Do you have any questions?”
I think for a second, and when I have something, I respond, “Not really a question, Dr. Lewis, more of a request.” I turn my head as the door opens and in walks Sheena. Tightening my lips, I turn back toward the doctor. “Make sure I’m good, alright? Got a best friend who might marry a jerk if I’m not there to save her. And I’ve fallen in love with the most perfect boy ever, and he doesn’t know it yet. So I need to be okay or he’ll never know. No making me a vegetable, okay?”
Dr. Lewis offers a genuine smile, his face becoming more soft and relaxed, almost human. He should have led with this expression … it’s far more comforting. “I’ll do my very best work. I haven’t known you long, but by the looks of it, you wear your heart on your sleeve. If you’re in love, I bet he already knows.”
“You couldn’t be more right, doc, he knows she loves him,” Rowan pipes up, having snuck in behind Sheena and my concerns on the doctor, I didn’t even notice him slink inside. Not the way I wanted to tell him, but it should appear that not everything’s going according to plan anyway, so the hell with it.
“That’s just how good I am,” he chuckles. “I’ll see you in a little while, Charlie. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. Boy who she loves. Best friend. I’ll update you the moment I can.” He continues to laugh and leaves the room before my mom can get started on round two of asking unanswerable questions.
Patting the blanket next to me, Rowan doesn’t feel my legs, so he sits and makes himself comfortable. All of a sudden, the room feels way too crowded. I should have never let Rowan leave to begin with—I needed him and didn’t realize it until now.
Sheena—without me having to say a word—reads my expression and is on top of it. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. T, can you guys come with me to the lobby and fill me in on what I missed? That doctor seemed to have a lot to say, and since selfish Charlie wanted me to do her a solid, I’m in the dark.”
I offer her a grateful wink and a swift jerk of my head letting her know she made the exact call I wanted her to make.
“There wasn’t much to miss, Sheena … surgery within in the next few hours …” my mom starts, but Dad stops her mid-sentence.
“Honey, I think she’s trying to give us a hint that Charlie and Rowan want to be alone for a little while.”
“Sheena? Is that true?” she asks in disbelief.
“Sorry, Mrs. T, he’s absolutely right. Didn’t wanna be rude and tell you to leave, but since social cues aren’t your forte right now, I guess I gotta get straight to the point. Can you leave, out of the room, with me … so Charlie and Rowan can talk, maybe even kiss a little bit, without your eyes on them making them feel all dirty.”
“Do you have to be so damn crass, Sheena? I know your mother, you weren’t raised by wolves. Rude wolves …” she grumbles and wipes away a tear. Gathering her purse and keys, she hooks onto my dad’s arm and heads for the door. “I assume it’ll be a few hours before they take you back. Dad and I will run home and get a change of clothes and something else for you since I don’t think you want to leave in a swimsuit. Anything specific?”
“Thanks, Mom,” I genuinely offer, “and something comfortable. Maybe some sweats and a tee shirt? I think my sandals are in my bag. That’ll be good. I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetie. We’ll be back. Don’t let them take you before I get back. God knows you barely listen to a word I say, surely you can handle being a little feisty with some nurses?”
“I got you, Mom. I’m not moving an inch without a hug. Promise.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few.” Then she turns to Sheena with a scowl. “Next time, young lady, don’t beat around the bush. Just nicely ask me to leave.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. T. I didn’t wanna put Charlie’s business out there and make her uncomfortable. It’s a best friend thing,” Sheena responds honestly. “She wouldn’t ask you to leave, but I knew she wanted some alone time with lover boy over here. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just … stressful, I guess.”
“Already forgot about it, Sheena. You want to ride with us?” Dad offers.
“If that’s okay. Mrs. T?”
“Of course, Sheena. You’re family. A sister, right?” Mom looks to me and I nod with a smile, resting my head on Rowan’s shoulder.
“Yeah, Mom, she’s my sister.”
After everyone leaves, Rowan and I the only two in the room, he doesn’t wait. Turning my head toward him by a slight tug on my chin, our eyes connect.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips.
“I love you, too. And I lied.” I attempt to lower my head to hide my shame, but he uses that chin trick again to keep our gazes locked.
“Baby,” he laughs, “I already knew. I saw Sheena before I came in the first time. By the way, she’s the last person you should ever rob a bank with; the girl can’t keep her mouth shut … ever. You weren’t ready to tell me and that was okay. I knew when you were, you’d tell me.”
“Really?” Who is this guy? With every wo
rd he says, I fall more and more in love with this amazing boy. I made a great choice waiting for this one to come into my life. My first love is the best first love anyone’s ever had. I’m one lucky girl.
“You don’t have to ever lie to me. You don’t ever have to have a conversation you’re not ready to have. You do always have to remember … when you are ready, my arms will always be open.”
“God, I love you. You’re perfect, Rowan.”
“You’re the perfect one, baby. I’m the one in love.”
He softly brushes his lips against my mouth, and it’s my turn to not waste any time. Threading my fingers through his hair, I reach the back of his head, tighten my grip, and pull him the few inches to me. Being in this situation, where all my control’s lost and left in the hands of strangers, I waste no time swiping my tongue against his. And at that moment, I know I don’t want the power here, and I don’t have to tell Rowan—he takes the lead. He pushes me back on the bed and maneuvers himself to hover over me, every inch of our bodies pressed tightly together.
His hands wander and peruse my body. Having never felt this kind of fire inside me, I groan, and he kisses me harder and faster. Why, oh why, do we have to be in a hospital … with me in an ugly, frumpy gown … when all I want is to be in a bed, with Rowan, naked …
“Charlie, wait,” Rowan pants breathlessly, his eyes—the sapphire passion aflame within their depths—contradicting his words. He doesn’t want to wait, and neither do I.
“Why?” I try to pull his lips back to mine, but he’s far too strong for me to do so. And his resolve’s better than mine, too.
“Not like this. Not before you go into surgery. Not when anyone could walk in. When, and if, we go to that next level, it’ll be because you want me as badly as I want you.”
“I do. I really do.”
“Baby, you’re scared. Worried. And when we do this, I don’t want any kind of negative thoughts in your head. I want just you and me, all our attention on one another. I want perfection with you, and Charlie, I won’t settle for anything less and I won’t let you settle, either. Our first time will be special and certainly not in a damn hospital.”
Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, and as hard as I wish them to disappear, they roll down my face, hot and heavy. Weeks—that’s how long we’ve been together. In that short amount of time, he can read me the same way Sheena can, and Sheena and I have been attached at the hip as long as we’ve known each other.
“I’m so damn scared.”
“No need for that, huh?” He wipes my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Said some prayers myself today. And now that you’ve finally admitted to loving me, I’m not done. I need a lot more time to prove I’m not only worthy of you but that I love you most.”
“Well shit.” The tears fall faster. “I fucking love you. And I’m not done, either. You’re a rare breed, Rowan Thorne.”
“There we go.” His perfect teeth on display when he grins.
“We’re gonna spend a long time loving each other, aren’t we?”
“I’d bet my life on it.”
Coincidently, I would, too. And I like it.
Chapter 5
The First Day
Against all odds, I’m still alive and kicking. The cancer didn’t end up killing me, though Freshman year was a close call. But alas, here I am, wearing a sundress underneath my cap and gown, waiting in the student holding area flanked by Rowan on my left and Sheena on my right. My tribe.
“You ready for this, sugar?” Sheena asks, taking my clammy hand in hers and squeezing reassuringly.
“This is the easy part, right? We’ve done the exams, grades are in and can’t be changed, no more book vouchers, registration, study groups, and boring-ass labs. All we gotta do is walk across that stage and we’re done.”
“Then why are you shaking?” Rowan chuckles, inching closer to me, placing his palm on the small of my back and rubbing soft, soothing circles.
Better question is, why am I the only one feeling any kind of nerves? How the hell are these two the voices of reason and calm?
“Because,” I sigh, “I let Sheena dress me and chances are, I’m gonna faceplant. Who wears heels to graduation?”
“Oh my God, Charlie!” Sheena yells, and dozens of familiar faces turn in our direction, their eyes on the spectacle she’s making.
“What?” I whisper, desperate for her to take the cue to shut the entire hell up so the other graduates stop staring at us, or before they kick us out of line for being a bunch of assholes who ruin sacred traditions.
“The shoes were a suggestion, dude. High school graduation, do you remember? All you did the whole time was complain you had to wear flats since you weren’t steady on your feet yet. I was trying to help ya.”
Yeah, she’s right. I was just finishing chemo and was way too weak to wear anything other than ballet slippers to get my diploma. I barely walked to begin with, so I get her point, but hot damn, this is a mess right now.
“You did good, babe. I’m just nervous, that’s all. These peek-toe pumps are perfect and match my dress,” I offer, trying to assure her she didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t have to put them on—I made the choice myself.
“Perfect until you eat pavement,” she scoffs. “You got anything else in the car? I’ll run out there for you real quick?”
“Nope. Rowan cleaned out both our cars so we wouldn’t have to get a moving truck tomorrow. It’s bare-bones in there.” I don’t mention before his kind gesture, I had three pairs of Chucks in there for situations such as this …
And yep, after almost five years together, we finally signed a lease on an apartment the second Rowan was released from the athletic dorms last week. We get out keys in the morning! I just hope he agreed to move in with me instead of moving back home for us and not because my soulmate and best friend’s leaving for New York next week.
When Sheena declared journalism as her major, I thought she was insane and would end up working at some podunk paper close to home. But no, not my over-exaggerating Sheena. The girl, fresh out of college, landed herself a job at the New York Times writing book reviews. The big time! My heart soars knowing one day soon, there’s going to be an article in the most prestigious paper in the country with Sheena’s name in the byline. I couldn’t be more proud.
“Well, what are you gonna do then? I’m freaking out over here, dude.”
Poor Sheena. Before the cancer, she was full of bad ideas, poor intentions, and inappropriate actions. Now, I’m a china dish and she’s the bull, constantly thinking if she moves wrong, she’ll break me.
“First, we’re getting in line. We’re up and need to take our seats in the auditorium.” Reluctantly, she leads the way to the man handing out the alphabetically-ordered name cards, putting a few people between our tight-knit group. “Then, we’re goin’ out there so everyone can celebrate our day. I’m not sure what you’re planning on doing, but I’m gonna live up the last few minutes before the real world smacks us in the face.”
The people between Sheena and me nod along, agreeing with my amazing pep talk. Behind me, Rowan calls out, “You tell her, baby. It’s our day. Four grueling years and no more number-two pencils and scantron test sheets? We fuckin’ won!”
I laugh, Sheena cackles, a few “Woo pig sooies” come from the peanut gallery around the cramped room, and then we’re ushered to the auditorium.
I’m still in the tunnel when the hoots and hollers start—right along with my perma-smile. Nothing’s ever felt so empowering, all these people screaming for us—for me.
We’re the damn future. This. Is. It.
Woo. Pig. Sooie.
After taking our seats, it feels like hours go by—each speaker saying the same exact thing using different words. And finally, one by one, we’re called to the stage to shake forty-some-odd hands and receive a portfolio not encasing our actual degrees—pomp and circumstance.
My row rises and moves toward the stairs and my stomach flips.
A few more minutes and I’m a real adult. Who thought that was a good idea? I couldn’t even keep my goldfish, Erica, alive … now I’m completely responsible for myself? With bills and grocery shopping? Oh Lord, help us now.
“Sheena Gene Ziegler,” the Dean calls, and she swiftly and gracefully manages the daunting set of stairs to the stage, where she exudes femininity and class. Asshole.
A half-dozen more people repeat her actions and then I hear it …
“Charlotte Antoinette Thompson.”
“Breathe, baby, you got this. I’m right behind you. One foot in front of the other,” Rowan reassures me a few graduates back.
I take his advice and begin inching forward. At the base of the first step, I make eye contact with the usher extending his hand to give me some assistance and shake my head.
“Nope. Not happening. Not today, Satan.”
“Charlie, you gotta go up there, baby. You have to move. You’re holding up the line.”
“Shhhh,” I harshly shush my handsome yet pushy boyfriend. “Do not rush me, Rowan. I need a second.”
He steps out of line and stands next to me. “Listen to me. You beat cancer. You didn’t gain the Freshman Fifteen. You have an honors chord around your neck. Get. Up. Those. Stairs. And get that damn degree you busted your ass for, Charlotte.”
Okay, he’s asking for it …
“Listen, bossy, I’m doing exactly that. Give me a fucking second.”
The Dean calls my name again and I shoot him a glare, not so nicely telling him I’ll be there when I fucking get there. Then, without a change in expression, I turn back to Rowan.
Like any true boss bitch, I kick off the heels and smile at the shocked and stunned usher. “It’s my damn day. I’m doing it my way.”
Before I move another inch, my eyes meet Rowan’s one last time before I’m a full-fledged grownup. “And honey, I did gain those dreaded fifteen pounds … went straight to my tits and ass. You’re fucking welcome.”
Taking the usher’s hand, I ascend to the stage, my bare feet slapping against the wooden planks. Shaking all the board members’, faculty, and finally the Dean’s hand— giving a few obligatory hugs in the process—I take my “degree” and thrust it to the sky as soon as Rowan’s name is called.
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