CHAPTER 14 #2
“Help her with what?”
“She may need a bone marrow transplant. I went and got tested.” A loud sob escaped her. “I was so sure I’d be a match, and now I can’t help her; who knows if we’ll find a donor, and—”
“Hey, hey …” His voice was soft and soothing. He led her to a teal armchair, sat down, and pulled her onto his lap. She snuggled in the shelter of his arms, unable to hold back the tears any longer. He held her while she cried, rocking her slowly, his hand smoothing up and down her back.
It was a while before the tears stopped, and when they did, mortification gripped her. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fall apart.”
“How long have you been holding that in?”
Her throat closed anew at his words. Just as she’d known he would, he understood.
“I got your shirt wet.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Gently, he stroked her nape. “You said that she might need this transplant? So, there’s a chance it won’t be necessary?”
“She’s in the hospital this week getting chemo. They hope that works, but if it doesn’t … I wanted to be ready, just in case.”
“OK. So you’re not a match. I seem to recall that there’s a registry for these kinds of things.”
“There is.”
“Have the doctors checked to see if there’s something compatible in the bank?”
Claire sniffled. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you think you should start there first?”
She heard his unsaid words: she shouldn’t panic prematurely.
“How much confidence do you have in her doctors?”
She raised her head. Dr. Dawson was excellent, and she could run anything by Jake if she needed an opinion. “You’re right.” Claire took a deep breath. “I need a drink.”
His gaze snapped to the champagne bottle chilling in an ice bucket on the coffee table. “I was going to open that, but …”
“Open it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I really need a drink.”
He studied her briefly, then nodded, but his brow furrowed as he set her on her feet and went about opening the bottle.
Standing beside him, Claire watched him pop the cork as expertly as she remembered, wishing she could go back in time to that night before all of this had happened.
He filled two flutes with bubbling amber liquid and handed her one.
“To successful chemo.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She clinked the glass to his, then downed half the champagne in one gulp.
Ian eyed her with concern. “Easy, Penny. You haven’t eaten yet.”
He pointed to the corner of the table, where a sizable rectangular platter sat, filled with assorted colorful sushi rolls.
“Thanks. I’m not hungry.” She downed the rest of the drink. “And I want to get wasted.”
He brought the flute to his lips slowly, eyes narrowing. “Is that what you want?”
She thought for a moment. “No.”
“I didn’t think so.” He took the glass from her.
Easing himself down on a curved white sofa that faced the coffee table, he patted his lap. “Come here.”
She sat across his legs, leaning her head on his shoulder. He’d done that within an hour, the first time they’d met. It had felt good then. It felt even better now.
He kissed her hair. “Take a deep breath and hold it in.”
She took a shuddering breath.
He nodded and wrapped one arm around her. “Good. Now exhale. Slowly.”
Ian guided her through a few more calming breaths interspersed with small sips of his champagne.
“Better?”
She nodded.
He rubbed her back. “I’m here to listen if you want to talk.”
“I know.”
They sat in silence for a while. Claire was content to stay in his embrace, welcoming the heat radiating from his body.
The sinking sun cast the sky in orange and gold.
“Hungry yet?”
“No. I should eat something, though. Especially since you went through the trouble to make sushi.” She wriggled off his lap and swiped a set of chopsticks off the coffee table, eyeing the beautifully crafted rolls. “This looks even better than the picture.”
“Thank you. They’re fun to make.” Ian handed her a small plate and poured soy sauce into a tiny bowl. “Wasabi?”
“Yes, please.” She watched him pick up a little green blob and whisk it into the soy sauce using his chopsticks. “I never ate wasabi like that.”
“Neither had I until I went to Japan and watched what they did with it. Until then, I put it directly on my sushi and cleared my sinuses.”
She smiled. “I like spice. Anything hot. The hotter, the better.”
A tiny smile curved his lips. “Why am I not surprised? Here.” He pinched a roll with the chopsticks and dipped it in the sauce. “Try this one.”
She parted her lips, and he slipped in the rice-covered morsel, watching her face expectantly. It tasted unlike any sushi she had ever eaten. “Mmm.”
He ate a piece himself. “Not bad.”
“Not bad? This is incredible!”
“It helps to have fresh ingredients from the local fish market. Easier in Florida, that’s for sure.”
“That isn’t it. There’s a secret ingredient in here.”
He grinned. “OK, I’ll tell you. Eel sauce.”
She’d never heard of eel sauce. Her mother loved sushi. She would undoubtedly love Ian’s version. Claire thought about calling but decided not to bother her. Chemo always made Mom sleepy.
A wave of sadness washed over Claire again.
Ian leaned over and kissed her temple. “Tell me about her.”
Reading her thoughts again. She looked at him and saw a soft expression she had never seen before. He’d asked about her mother, not her illness.
She stared, unseeing, out the window, picturing Mom as she’d been before the cancer hit. “She is the strongest person I know. And the bravest. The reason she beat breast cancer before was because she was always about good nutrition and exercise, everything in moderation.
“She didn’t drink and drilled it into me that unhealthy food should be a treat.
I used to go to my friends’ houses to get ice cream and burgers.
Oh, and sodas too. I thought she didn’t know, but later, she told me she figured I’d sneaked enough garbage away from home, so she wasn’t about to have it in the house. ”
“Sounds like my dad. He used to raid our rooms looking for junk food.” He chuckled. “No matter how well I thought I had it stashed, he always managed to find it. She sounds like a great mom, Claire.”
“She is. She always put my needs first. Always. She taught me to ride a bike and to skate. She drove me to dance class until the day I got my license.”
“Ballet.”
“Yes. I was the chunkiest one in the class.”
He pushed aside a salmon roll and picked up one with shrimp and avocado. “I can’t picture you chunky.”
“I’m still chunky!”
His gaze roved over her, and he smiled. “No, Penny, you’re definitely not.”
“Exactly what she always said. The older we got, the more the girls in my class dieted. Mom never let me do that and insisted I eat healthy portions. When my friends told me I was fat and that my hips and butt were too big, Mom said they were just envious because I looked like a woman.”
“Your mother is wise.” He frowned. “And those weren’t friends.”
“I just don’t get it. Everything I’ve read about what causes this just wasn’t her. She always took such good care of herself. It was the shock of her life when they told her the mammogram showed a mass.”
“Nobody knows why these things happen. Could be genetics. Do you know of any family history?”
She wasn’t about to tell him her mother was a product of two drug addicts who’d tried to sell her to an undercover agent. “Mom grew up in foster care.”
“Oh,” was all he said. If he thought anything of this revelation, he didn’t show it.
“She doesn’t deserve this, Ian.”
He set his chopsticks down and pushed aside his plate. “Of course, she doesn’t. It stinks when these things happen to good people.”
“For her fiftieth birthday, I was going to buy her a cruise so she could see some of the places she’s always wanted to visit. And now …”
“The cancer has returned?”
She shook her head. “Not the breast cancer. Now it’s leukemia.”
He cursed under his breath. “Would the marrow transplant involve surgery?”
“Actually, no. It’s done via IV. It’s pretty simple, but you have to have the stem cells. If they don’t have a match, we’ll have to wait until they do.”
“Any idea how long?”
She shrugged. “Nobody knows. It could be many months.”
“What can I do?”
“You’re doing it right now.” She raised her chin to look into his face.
“I’d like to do more.” He bent his head.
Softly, he took her lips in a long, lingering kiss that left her sighing into his mouth.
“Stay a while,” he murmured.
Oh no. She wasn’t in the mood.
“Ian,” she began, “I know you were expecting—”
“Shh.” He placed a finger over her lips. “I was expecting you.”
He took her plate. “There are two beds in there.” He motioned toward the bedroom. “You can take one of them if you like. We can keep our clothes on, open the sliding doors, and pretend we’re lounging on the beach. Watch stupid stuff on YouTube. Eat dessert.”
She tipped her head. “You said you were the dessert.”
“Up to you. I can be, if that’s what you want.”
She didn’t know what she wanted. What she did know was that his presence comforted her and made her happy. She needed more of that tonight, and going home would mean walking into an empty house with nothing to do but think.
“I didn’t bring any other clothes.”
“Neither did I. There’s always lounging in our underwear. We can pretend we’re wearing swimsuits.”
“That’s a lot of pretending.” She almost smiled. What she had underneath could never be mistaken for a swimsuit. A tiny thrill skipped up her middle. She looked into his beautiful face and wondered how she could ever have run from this man.
His blue eyes sparkled. “I see a yes. You bring the strawberries and cream. I’ll get the champagne.”
·
Ian
Somewhere in the night, between strawberries and cream, watching Wile E. Coyote be outwitted by the Road Runner, and laughing at an outrageous standup comedian, Claire had migrated to Ian’s bed.
To say it was hard not to seduce her was an understatement. Underneath the simple navy pantsuit she’d worn to the hospital, Ian discovered another bodysuit.