Chapter Thirty-Three Elliott
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elliott
She asked Jamie to drop her off first so she could shower while he went to grab Hank from his mom’s. When she’d cleaned up and knew he was back at his place, she made her way across the complex.
She stepped off the elevator and the comforting, sugary smell of baked goods assailed her senses. It got stronger the closer she got to Jamie’s apartment, and by the time she opened the door, she had a huge smile on her face.
Jamie had his back to the door. The clash of a wire whisk against a metal pan muffled the sound of her entrance.
She dropped her keys on the table, and he whipped around.
Elliott cocked a brow. “Whatcha doing?”
A sheepish blush crept across his cheeks. “It’s a surprise.”
“One that smells awesome.”
“That’s good because without a severe schoolmarm watching over me, I’m not sure I’m doing this right.” He turned back to the stove and after another minute of whisking, stepped back. “The first batch looked a little weird, so I started on another while that one cooked, just in case.” After stuffing his hands in red-and-white-checkered oven mitts, he bent down to pull a tray out of the oven. He slid one of two bright-red ramekins onto a plate, then presented it to her like a Christmas present.
“Actually ...” He took the plate back and set it on the table, then pulled her into his arms. “This first.” He pressed his hand to her back and bent her backward as he kissed her, eliciting a laugh from her throat.
“What is all this?” she asked when she was upright. “Why the surprise?”
His brow furrowed and his gaze caressed her face, tracing across her eyes, cheeks, lips. “The last few days have been hard. For a lot of reasons. And I don’t really know what to do. I guess I just wanted to recreate one of the best nights of my life. Which, incidentally, is the same night I met you.
“I hoped maybe we could go back in time for a little while and just forget everything. Everything but us.”
This man. “I love that idea.”
“I love you,” he said, his expression pensive. “I’m sorry I didn’t show that this week.”
She pulled one hand from his grasp and laid it flat on his chest. “You’re allowed to have bad days. You’re allowed to hurt and be sad. We both are. We just have to be there for each other on the good days and the bad ones.” She paused. “Especially the bad ones.”
He closed his eyes. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
He crushed her against his chest, hugging her tight. She loved the feel of his strong arms and his large, warm body around her. He pressed his lips to her hair, breathing deeply while she did the same.
She helped finish the soufflés he was working on, and while the second batch were more visually appealing, both went down just fine. As far as Elliott was concerned, if it had butter and sugar, and was chocolate-free, she’d eat it. Jamie refused to let her help clean up, so she settled onto the couch and found a new romantic comedy on Netflix. After he joined her, though, it didn’t take long to lose interest in the movie.
It started with his hand in her hair, fingers working their way down to her neck. She leaned into the massage, and he shifted to settle her between his legs so he could reach her shoulders better. His thumbs rubbed slow, deep circles along her muscles, sending her entire body melting into him, her lower back in the triangle of his thighs. His hands curved over her shoulders, gently caressing the space below her collarbone, just above the curve of her breasts.
It felt so good, and yet all she could think about was his hands moving lower.
“Relax,” he said into her ear. The tender yet commanding way he said it, combined with the press of his skin on hers, did the exact opposite.
“I can’t,” she said, voice low. She shifted, hoping to find some relief, and felt him hard against her spine. “Not when all I can think about is where else I want your hands.”
One of his hands snaked up to gently grab her jaw. He angled her face to the side and leaned up to brush his nose with hers, pausing with his lips a breath away. The fierce look in his eyes sent a rush of heat curling from her belly to her toes. Her breathing became shallow, yet she felt every rise of her chest against her shirt, her nerve endings lighting up like matches.
Keeping her eyes locked on his, she put her hand on his thigh, and the second she touched him he moved. His hands dropped to her waist and he flipped her onto her back, stretching his large body over hers. He slid off his glasses and set them on the end table before his lips came down on hers, tongue slipping inside her mouth. A light burst open in her rib cage, sending shimmers of glittering rays into every corner and crevice of her heart where doubt had crept in.
When he arched his hips against hers, she sucked in a breath, followed by a moan with her exhale. “Jamie ...”
“I’ve missed you,” he breathed into her neck, kissing along the column of her throat and the curve of her shoulder. “I want you so much.”
“Yes. Please. ”
His hands were everywhere. She yanked at his shirt at the same time he tugged her pants down her legs, one arm under her lower back to lift her up. When all their clothes were on the floor and his warm, strong body was poised above hers, he tipped his head forward to softly kiss her cheeks, her forehead, and finally her lips.
“I’m here,” he whispered. “Always.”
She nodded, her voice thick with emotion. “Always.”
On Wednesday morning, Elliott and Jamie sat silently in the waiting room fifteen minutes before they were called back to the exam room.
Her oncologist knocked and entered a few minutes later. Dr. Varghese was a man with graying black hair, though he only appeared to be in his forties. His job probably led to a lot of sleepless nights.
After she was treated the first time, Elliott briefly considered going into the medical field, figuring it might be a good path based on what she’d gone through. But the thought of all those science classes made her stomach turn, and her true love was in the arts. Photography, design, and creativity.
She also hadn’t wanted people’s lives in her hands. How on earth did Dr. Varghese do this every day?
“Hi, Elliott. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“Thanks for getting me in so quick.” She leaned forward in her chair. Well, as far as she could with Jamie’s death grip on her hand. “I, um, brought my boyfriend, Jamie.” The men acknowledged each other with nods. “Did you find out anything more from the labs?”
Dr. Varghese sat on the stool in the center of the room. “Nothing definitive. There are still several things that could be going on. It could be a virus, or it could be the leukemia has returned and is attacking your bone marrow. Or it could simply be your donor cells are losing their effectiveness.”
Elliott blinked. Relief hovered just out of reach at the thought it could be something other than cancer. But the other options didn’t sound great, either. “Can that happen? The transplant cells can stop working after all this time?”
“It’s not common, but it’s possible. The bone marrow biopsy will give us more answers.”
There was a time she’d dreaded the procedure, but by this point she’d had so many it was old news.
“Then what will the plan be?” Jamie asked.
“If it’s cancer, we’ll have to have another conversation. It will depend on how extensive the disease burden is. We might need to do a little more chemo first, and then we could try a donor lymphocyte infusion, or DLI. Think of it like a stem cell boost. That’s also what I’ll recommend if there’s no cancer and it looks like the original donor cells are losing their hold.”
“A stem cell boost?”
“Yes. If your first donor is able and willing, we’ll ask her to donate again. Sometimes that’s all it takes to get everything under control.”
The same lightheaded sensation she had on Monday crashed through her again. “The first donor?” she whispered.
“Yes.” Dr. Varghese consulted the papers in his hand. “She was a perfect match. I’ll be surprised if the cells are losing function, but like I said, it’s possible. You did so well after the transplant, using the same donor will be the best thing.”
She might need more cells from Carly. She never would have imagined that was a possibility. How could she even ask such a thing, after everything that had happened?
She glanced at Jamie, wondering if he was having the same thoughts she was. His skin was a little pale as he met her gaze, but his expression was unreadable.
“Do you have any other questions right now?”
Elliott sat in silence for a long moment, thinking. She’d learned not to hold back during office visits, and to take advantage of having the doctor’s undivided attention when they were face-to-face. He’d always been responsive when she called in between visits, but he had other patients to take care of, too. The time blocked off for them to sit in this room together was hers and hers alone.
“What—” It came out almost like a whisper, and she paused and swallowed before trying again. “Um. What if she won’t donate a second time?”
Jamie’s grip on her hand firmed up again.
“That’s not usually an issue, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? There are other options. That one’s just my preferred one.” He stood. “I’ll go get the medical assistant, and we’ll be back to do that biopsy.”
The door clicked quietly with his exit, and Jamie immediately pulled her into his arms. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing circles on her back. “Shh.”
Her throat ached and her eyes burned. “I thought I was done with all this.” She broke down again, and with one arm still around her, Jamie leaned to the side to grab a box of tissues.
“I’m so sorry.” He hugged her tighter. “But I’ll be here, no matter what happens. You’re not in this alone, okay?”
Sniffing, she nodded. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He wiped her cheeks with a tissue and kissed her hair.
Elliott wiped her nose and tipped her head back. Jamie’s lashes were damp, and he brushed his thumb across her cheekbone.
“Carly . . .”
Jamie smoothed her hair back, gripping the back of her head gently. “Don’t worry about that.”
“How can I not? She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She’s hurt and probably pissed, but mostly at me. I’m the one who did wrong by her. You were an innocent bystander I happened to fall in love with.”
She didn’t agree, and more tears slid down her cheeks. She didn’t deserve to be absolved for what had happened.
“We don’t know what the plan is yet, either. That might not even be on the table. Let’s take this one step at a time, okay? Get the biopsy results and face it, then.”
Wiping more tears, Elliott nodded, then pulled away and stood.
“What are you doing?”
She used the lever on the side of the exam table to adjust the height and climbed onto it, laying stomach down. “Getting ready for the biopsy.”
Jamie moved from the wooden chair against the wall to the rolling stool, scooting near her head. He took her left hand in both of his, stroking each of her fingers with his thumbs, his eyes filled with concern. “Does it hurt?”
“Nah. They numb it first.” She turned her head to look at him, the paper crinkling, and rested her cheek on the table. “But if you’re not good with blood and stuff, maybe don’t watch when they do it.”
His eyes went wide.
“It’s just a big needle, is all.”
His chest rose with a deep inhale, and she almost laughed at the look on his face.
“You don’t have to stay.” She’d done these plenty of times by herself.
“The hell I won’t.”
She shrugged. “Okay. But if you pass out I’m not carrying you out of here.”
That got a tiny smile out of him.
Dr. Varghese returned with a young woman in scrubs carrying a package of equipment. She laid everything out on the counter, and Dr. Varghese started the procedure.
Jamie kept his eyes on her face or his ministrations with her hand, staying stock-still, as if he were afraid to jostle her.
When he was finished, the doctor said he’d call her as soon as he had results and discuss next steps. Elliott and Jamie walked to the car together, and he looked over at her before he turned the truck on.
“What now?”
She leaned her head back. “Will you take me to your trees?”