by Tina Martin
“So what do I do?” Andre asked. “This is the first time in my life where I’m not in control, and I don’t want to lose her.”
“Then you help her,” his father said. “You educate yourself on her sickness, finding out all you can about it.”
“I’ve been doing that, father, but my worry is, what if there isn’t anything that can be done to fix her heart? Then what?”
“There’s always something that can be done,” Scott chimed in.
Andre nodded, but was still worried. “I know. I just get so nervous at the thought of losing her. I mean, I can go through these work projects, feel all this pressure from running a business as big as RCC, but I have never felt so scared in my life of losing the woman I love.”
“Listen to your old man, son. Here’s what you do. Don’t worry about how long she’s going to live. To be quite honest, unforeseen occurrences befall us all. That’s biblical. I could get hit head-on by a drunk driver on the way to the airport tomorrow.”
“Jeez, father. Don’t talk like that. You’re giving me more gray hairs.”
“I just want you to see my point. She has a heart problem. Okay, we’ve established that. But to be honest, none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. That’s why you have to be happy with today, because tomorrow ain’t promised, son. It just ain’t.”
“You’re right, pops. You’re right.”
“So let’s pop the cork on that wine bottle,” Scott said, “And celebrate life today.”
“Let’s,” Andre said, standing to get some wine glasses from the cupboard.
Ava
. ~ .
“I NEED TO know how to get him to stop loving me,” I say, in tears to Elena.
She looks at me like I’m crazy, like she hadn’t yet to decipher what it was I was asking of her.
“Oh,” she says after it dawns on her. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, darling. Once my son commits to something, it’s a done deal. He’s a very strong-willed man...been that way since he was a boy...just like his father.”
“Then what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to feel like a burden to him.”
“But you’re not a burden, Ava. My son loves you very much.”
Maria nodded.
“So how do I make him happy?”
“Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” Mom says. “Make sure you follow the doctor’s instructions and please make sure you go to your appointments. That way, if something is wrong, the doctors will be able to detect it right away.”
“I know. I just wish things were different,” I tell them. “If I was healthy, I would be so much happier with our relationship.”
“Sweetie, in life, we have to play the hands we’re dealt,” Elena says.
Her comment only makes me sick to my stomach. Play the hand we’re dealt. In that case, I needed a better hand because life hasn’t been good to me at all.
“I know my son and I know he’s going to do everything he can to make sure you get the best medical care. You’re going to be around for a long time. Don’t you worry about that,” Elena says, patting my thigh.
Mom cosigns with another nod.
“What if I’m not?” I ask.
“What if you are?” Elena tosses back.
“You will be,” Mom says. “You have to...for your son if nothing else.”
I dry my eyes and take a good look at Drew. I have to be around. I have to do all I can because I plan to see my baby grow up. I want to watch his features change as he gets older, starts kindergarten, joins a little league baseball team, have his first crush, prom and graduation. I have to do this for him, and I have to do it for Andre. I want to be a woman he wants to love – not a whiny, poor-me complainer – someone he regrets.
Everyone, besides Scott, stays overnight in the extra guest bedrooms.
I take a shower then put on a comfortable pair of pink pajamas with the matching shirt. When I step into the bedroom, Andre is sitting on the bed, staring blankly. That’s his thinking face and I don’t have to wonder what’s on his mind. I already know.
“Ava, can you come here?” he asks.
I walk over and sit next to him on the bed.
“I mentioned this briefly before, but I was serious when I said that I want to go to your doctor appointments, learn more about your condition and possibly look into some experimental surgeries as second opinions.”
I smile and look into his worried eyes. “Okay.”
He looks confused. “Did you just agree to this?”
“Yes. I love you, Andre, and I want to be around for you and Andrew. I want to watch our son grow up and I want to be a good wife to you.”
Andre takes me into his arms, holds me tightly against his chest and I smiled. I love this man. It took some time, but now I realize I need to stop focusing on my failings and imperfect.
Epilogue
Six months later...
THE MERGER WAS a done deal and Andre had more time to focus on what mattered to him the most. He moved back to Miami with Ava and Andrew – even bought Ava’s mother, Maria, a nice condo there so she could remain close to her only grandchild. She appreciated his gesture.
Andre also made sure Ava kept her doctor appointments. They were able to discuss several alternatives to having a heart transplant with several, top performing doctors – including increasing her medicine and heart valve replacement procedures.
For now, increasing her medicine was the best option. She had moments where she felt weak, but other than that, no immediate health scares. Since she was doing so well, the doctors put off any surgeries for now.
Andre took care of her like he said he would. He even hired a personal chef to prepare her meals, made sure she stayed somewhat active by taking afternoon walks with her and ensured she was talking her medication.
Today, the family was in Nassau, Bahamas. Andre and Ava returned to the spot where they initially met to get remarried. They wanted a real marriage, one where they could celebrate with their loved ones and take pictures.
Andre stood at the wedding gazebo altar with his family and friends sitting in the audience – his parents, Ava’s mother with Drew, Ava’s friend Clara with her husband Wesley, Todd and Sasha, Scott, Benjamin and a few others.
When Ava came walking down the aisle, wearing a flower pattern laced dress, the small crowd gasped. She was stunning, her makeup done to perfection, her hair in soft curls, being tossed by the breeze. Andre’s bride...
Dinner and dancing followed the ceremony. Andre and Ava slow danced to a couple of songs and when the D.J. played some tasteful hip hop music, it attracted a larger crowd of other vacationers.
Taking a break, Andre left the women on the dance floor and joined the men at the bar.
“Congratulations, bro,” Todd said. “I wish nothing but love and happiness for you, man.”
“Thanks, Todd. I’m glad you and Sasha were able to make it.”
“Oh, no doubt...I missed the first wedding...certainly wasn’t going to miss the second.”
Andre grinned.
Todd glanced over at the women on the floor, dancing and carrying on. “Ava looks stunning.”
“Thanks. She’s come a long way, man.” Andre tossed back the rest of his champagne, eyeing his woman.
“I must say, I think she’s perfect for you.”
A smile decorated Andre’s face. “Yeah. I knew she was the one. It was love at first sight. Now you see why it was so hard for me to get over her.”
“Yeah. I see,” Todd agreed. “Ah man, let me go get Sasha. She’s one sip away from falling over.”
Andre laughed, and while Todd hurried to the floor to grab Sasha, Andre kept his eyes on Ava. She was happy and dancing, twirling in her gown the same way she was twirling on the beach when he’d first laid eyes on her.
“I’m happy for you, son,” his father said, throwing an arm around him while simultaneously taking him out of his trance.
“Thanks pops.”
“Do you reali
ze that Ava’s the only woman you introduced to your Mom and I?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“That’s how I know she’s truly the one for you, and I’ma tell you...I wasn’t the least bit surprised when you called off the wedding to Michelle. In my mind, I knew something wasn’t adding up with that situation, especially when you didn’t even bring her around to meet us.”
“Yeah. Michelle wasn’t right for me. She was all wrong, but now I have my queen,” he said, staring at Ava like he could have her for dessert instead of the thousand-dollar wedding cake that they’d yet to slice. “As a matter of fact, excuse me.” He crossed the floor to her.
Ava looked up, saw him approaching with open arms and smiled, while nuzzling into him.
Andre folded his arms around her. “I love you, Mrs. Rockwell.”
“I love you, Mr. Rockwell.”
While he held her in his arms, he saw his mother dancing with Drew and he smiled. It was heartwarming to have the people he loved all here together in paradise.
“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered in Ava’s ear while they swayed to the music.
“What’s that?”
“Come with me.” He led her away from the party. After a small walk, he said, “Do you remember this place?”
Ava smiled. “Yes. How can I forget? You had a villa here when we met.”
“And guess what?”
She smiled more, squeezing his hand. “What?”
“I reserved the exact same villa for the next two weeks...just me and you.”
Ava screeched with excitement, gave him a tight hug then asked, “Wait...what about Drew?”
“Andrew will be just fine, dear. He has our parents. I just want this for us. We need this time alone. And what better place to spend our honeymoon than the place we met and fell in love...the place where Andrew was conceived.”
“Oh, Andre, you’re so thoughtful.” Ava squeezed him as hard as she could.
He would have her all to himself for two weeks and would show her just how much he loved her. He was still concerned about her health, but life can only be lived one day at a time, and while he knew loving her would present an interesting challenge, more so than a woman who didn’t have her health issues, he also knew that walking away from her was not an option under any circumstances.
* * * * *
Dying To Love Her 2
Tina Martin
Copyright 2014 @ Tina Martin
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying and recording, without prior written consent of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and products are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events is entirely coincidental.
DYING TO LOVE HER 2
Chapter 1
Ava
. ~ .
“I DON’T KNOW how it is we’re supposed to have a marriage when he won’t even touch me,” I said to my friend, Clara.
I had gotten into a bad argument with my husband, Andre, exactly one week ago, and it wasn’t one of those simple arguments, you know, the ones that are so insignificant, the next day, no one remembers what the argument was about, so both parties pretend it didn’t happen and move on with life as normal. Nope, nothing like that at all. I’d transformed into a she-devil. I’m still shocked by my behavior. I was yelling, screaming, crying and throwing clothes like a rebellious teenager. This was the mother of all our fights combined, and it was about the same ‘ol thing our fights are usually about – my inability to accept his love for me.
I’m aware of how twisted that sounds, but that’s the way I feel. My mother told me I was being selfish, childish and foolish. She said that men like Andre Rockwell only came along once in a lifetime. He was the exception, the catch, the man. She questioned why I was being irrational, destroying my marriage, leaving room for some other woman to sashay her way in and snatch my husband away from me. “Don’t allow room for the devil,” she liked to say.
I couldn’t argue with her on that point. Andre was one of those once-in-a-lifetime men, the kind of man who had values, who knew the importance of family. Even though he was wealthy and attractive, he wasn’t chauvinistic, self-assertive or arrogant. He was the opposite – kind but strong with a beautiful spirit and a heart of gold. I couldn’t ask for a better husband, or a better father for Andrew.
Andre was the exception. I’m sure any woman would want him. I see the looks women give him when we’re out together. He’s a looker, he dresses in the finest designer suits and he has a way about him – he’s always mild-tempered, polite and maintains a level of self-control that not only baffles me, but turns me on.
For example, one day we’d just arrived home from shopping at South Park Mall. When he pulled up in the driveway, I got out of the car, opened the back passenger door and unbuckled little Andrew, taking him from his car seat. Andrew went running about in the yard like he was free, like he was an inmate who’d just busted out of his playpen. I don’t think I’d ever seen his little legs move so fast.
Meanwhile, Andre was busy getting bags from the trunk. I had a couple of bags in my hands as I called Andrew over to the front door. He came running, smiling mischievously, looking for something else to get into. Since it had rained the day before, the ground was wet and Andrew’s shoes were muddy. So after I unlocked the door, I dropped my bags in the foyer and reached for Andrew’s hand. My intent was to take off his shoes before he tracked mud throughout the house, but he darted pass me.
At that moment, I made a mental note to sign him up for little league when he was old enough, and then after finally catching up to him in the family room, I took off his muddy Nikes and set them on the kitchen counter, on top of a paper towel. I took a moment to catch my breath, opened the broom closet to find a mop and that’s when Andre stepped in the kitchen, dropping bags on the countertop. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Exasperated, I responded, “Andrew made a mess with his muddy shoes. Didn’t you see his tracks on the floor?”
“Yeah, but I ain’t worried about that, baby.”
I looked at him like he was crazy. What do you mean you ain’t worried about that? Those tracks on the floor were driving me insane, mostly because the price of the décor in this house was awfully expensive. There were ten thousand dollar Persian rugs in the living room and family room – marble tile in the foyer and kitchen. I think, since I’ve been living here, I was always in a state of panic at the thought of Andrew destroying things in the home. It was my fear that Andre would get angry that his elegant palace was being terrorized by a one-year-old.
Andre, however, could care less and was completely unbothered. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t been fazed by crayon marks on the floor and walls, sticky fingers on his glass tables and trinkets, or by the fact that he’d find old, stale Cheerios in just about every corner and in every room of his mansion. His insouciance makes him even more attractive.
It takes a lot to upset Andre, and I successfully made him flip his lid a week ago when I told him I needed space. Why did I need space? Because Andre wouldn’t touch me. He would never admit this, but I am a nuisance to him. Besides, what man wants a wife that he’s afraid to make love to?
When I told him I was leaving, he frowned and looked at me like he could wring my neck, then simply turned away and walked out of the bedroom, leaving me there packing my suitcase.
I know it hurt him to see me leave, but I desperately needed to get away and sort out a mixture of emotions going on inside of me. That’s why, currently, little Andrew and I are in Charlotte, North Carolina, staying in the house that I decorated – the house Andre had leased there and still kept because of his company’s new Charlotte office. After the merger with Able Gadgets, this home was his home away from home whenever he needed to be at the Charlotte location.
Right now,
it was my home and as I sat in the living room, cradling a cup of tea, I was confiding in Clara about my current situation. She’s very open-minded when it comes to issues like this and though I only wanted her to listen to me, I knew she’d give me some advice.
“He’s probably afraid to touch you, Ava,” Clara said, crossing her legs as she sat in a recliner, in its unreclined position, taking a glass of Sierra Mist from a coaster on the table next to her. She took a sip. “I think that’s noble of him, being considerate of you like that, girl. Most men wouldn’t care.”
She’s right. Most men probably wouldn’t care. Andre is a good man. Four months ago, we were remarried in the Bahamas and had a two-week honeymoon there. The time alone, without our son, Andrew gave us time to bond and accept each other, but when we settled into our home life, reality set in. I was finding it difficult to pretend like we would live happily ever after when I was dealing with a life-threatening heart condition, one for which I may need to have a heart transplant. Andre, on the other hand, was going on with life as if everything was fine, like we were the perfect couple, to be envied by onlookers.
We were anything but, and I was tired of feigning the picture perfect life. Don’t get me wrong – Andre was the perfect man – but I was not the kind of woman a man like him needed. Honestly, I’m not even sure if I’m really what he wanted. I’d had a gut feeling for a while that maybe the only reason he married me is because we have a son together.
“And that’s my point, Clara,” I said, folding my legs in Indian-style as I got comfortable on the couch. “Most men wouldn’t care.”