Chapter 49 New Orleans—Remy
New Orleans—Remy
Remy quietly rose from the bed, a silent departure a few hours after a silent arrival.
Any other time, he’d awaken the woman in his bed with his tongue, a warm, familiar claim. Skye should be moaning in his arms, not lost in deep sleep. But his fear was a cold weight, keeping him from initiating morning sex with the woman who owned his heart.
Dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, he eased the door shut behind him. This wasn’t just a bad day. This was one of the lowest, most soul-crushing points of his life. He’d spent a lifetime waiting for his forever girl. She was here within his grasp.
The house was silent as he slipped through the quiet rooms. After brewing a cup of coffee, he escaped to the backyard retreat to immerse himself in a New Orleans spring morning. In the distance, the warm brass notes of a solitary trumpet drifted on the breeze, telling a story all its own.
He settled onto a chaise lounge near the pool, the sun’s warmth a gentle touch on his skin, and took a slow sip of the hot, dark liquid.
A knot tightened in his stomach. There was a conversation he couldn’t postpone any longer.
His usual confidante was Elliott, but the gravity of this matter meant it had to be Charlotte, the only one he felt could truly grasp the situation.
Charlotte answered the call on the first ring. “Good morning, Remy. How was the show last night?”
“Perfect, except you, Braham, and Archibald weren’t there. How’s he doing this morning?”
“There’s no infection. Archibald is meeting with Trainer Ted to do some stretching exercises, and he really wants to come down there today.”
“That’s your decision to make. But we’d all love to see you. What are the chances?”
“I’ll decide after I talk to Trainer Ted.”
“Okay.” Remy paused, and the silence stretched between them as he wrestled with how to tell her what was wrong. Just as he gathered his thoughts, a quiet question broke the stillness.
“Remy, is there something else?”
He decided to just put it out there. If he didn’t do it right now, he might not find the courage to do it later. “I found a lump in my right testicle.”
“How big?” She didn’t overreact, and there were no immediate expressions of sympathy. It was as if she innately knew he didn’t want that.
“Marble size.”
“It could be a cyst, a collection of fluids, an enlarged vein, or even a hernia.” Her voice carried a calm, deliberate focus.
“I’ll make an appointment for you at MD Anderson Cancer Center.
There’s a urologist there I’ve worked with before.
He should be able to see you within one to two weeks.
They’ll do an ultrasound and blood tests for tumor markers to determine the nature of the lump. ”
It was as if she’d rehearsed their conversation and had a prepared script to follow. “Can’t you do the ultrasound and blood tests? That way I won’t have to wait.”
“I can, but I’d rather have a specialist do it. I don’t want any mistakes. Who else knows?”
“Only you. I’ll tell Elliott today and ask him to keep it quiet, which means he won’t be able to tell Meredith. I want to get through the weekend before I even tell Skye.” Remy instantly worried it was a mistake not to tell her. But he couldn’t.
“I’ll make some calls right now and will let you know if Archibald can come down there this afternoon. Anything else?”
“Yeah, but you’ve got enough to worry about.” The sheer weight of her support—the years of mentorship, the rock-steady presence—pressed an aching thud against his sternum.
“If you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. Don’t let embarrassment stand in your way. Remember, I’m the one who removed the bullets from your buttocks. There aren’t any parts of you I haven’t seen or heard about.”
“Baring my ass to you was embarrassing,” he said in a self-deprecating way.
“All I remember was how much you grumbled. Now, tell me what’s on your mind.”
He took a deep breath, unsure of the answer he wanted or expected. “Should I refrain from sex?”
“There’s no reason to abstain.” She said it so quickly that it sounded rehearsed. “Whatever you have, it isn’t contagious. The tumor won’t spread to your partner, and it won’t affect the growth or spread of the tumor. But—”
“Of course, there’s a but.”
“It’s not like that, Remy. It’s your libido and sexual comfort that might be impacted by the emotional distress.”
“If I’m worried about this, I woan get an erection. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m not saying you won’t. I’m saying it’s possible. Don’t take this as a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
He put his coffee cup down and gave himself an eye massage, hoping to reduce tension. “I can’t tell Skye. Her mother died of cancer. This will scare her away.”
“How do you plan to keep it from her? If you’re sleeping in the same bed, she’ll wonder what’s wrong and think you don’t desire her. And I can tell from the way you look at her you’re smitten.”
“Fuck. I can’t tell Skye, and I doan want her to think I doan desire her. What do I do?”
“Clean up your language.”
“I will, Charlotte, but right now I have a goddamn tumor in my testicle and will probably lose it. Then I’ll be called one-ball-Remy.”
“There’s no one in this family who will say that, and you don’t know the diagnosis yet. That’s getting way ahead of where we are now. Besides, you can have a cosmetic testicular prosthesis implanted in the empty scrotum at the same time as the orchiectomy.”
“I doan want fake balls.”
Charlotte harrumphed. “The only downside, Remy, is that after the orchiectomy, you could be infertile. But the chances are good that one testicle will produce enough sperm and testosterone to maintain fertility. And you could also do what Jack did and bank enough sperm to impregnate your partner.”
Remy’s head throbbed now, so his fingers moved from his eyes to his forehead, hoping he could simply massage away the pain and confusion. “You’ve told me more than I wanted to know.”
“You’re a bottom line kind of guy. So here it is. We don’t know what you have. But if it’s malignant, you’ve caught it early, and you won’t die from this, and you can still have children. Try to relax. Enjoy your time in New Orleans. You’ve waited a year for this weekend.”
“Anything else, Doc?”
“Cut down on your alcohol consumption, and if it’s too difficult for you to talk to Skye about this, I will.”
“That makes me look like a coward.”
“It shouldn’t. Skye might find it easier to talk with me about this than with you.
She’ll have questions. I can give her the most current information and help her understand how this is affecting you.
She needs to know that you might try to make love to her, and either you can’t get an erection, or you can’t keep one.
If Skye doesn’t understand, she might think it’s her fault. ”
For the first time since he discovered the lump, Remy felt hopeful. “This reminds me why I love you so much.”
“Thank you. You’re like a son to me. I promise to arrange the best treatment possible. Let me work out the details, and I’ll let you know if Archibald is ready to travel.”
“We have room here for Archibald, and if you and Braham want to stay, there’s room for two more.”
“Thanks, but we’ll stay at the hotel. Meredith and Elliott are expecting us, and we have dinner reservations tonight, if we can get there. I’ll see you soon.”
Remy disconnected the call and set his phone aside as he drank lukewarm coffee. The tasteless liquid did nothing to warm the chill that had settled in his gut.
He tried to switch tracks and get his mind off his health, but it was going to hang over him like the feeling of a life suddenly shortened. It consumed his entire awareness—a full, one hundred percent mental load, a looming threat, an impending disaster.
Yeah, he was heading right off the rails. He needed to get out of his head before he ended up in a state of functional freeze.
David walked out the moment Remy put down his phone, as if he’d been waiting in the wings. He carried a cup of steaming coffee and two beignets. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Remy took a couple of napkins and sank his teeth into the beignet.
Powdered sugar exploded on his tongue. He took another bite and another until only a few crumbs remained.
He wiped the powdered sugar from his hands, the corners of his mouth, and then washed away all the evidence of the quintessential New Orleans treat. “Thanks for that.”
David sat on the adjoining chair, but instead of stretching out, he sat on the side, facing Remy. “What’s going on?”
“Did you talk to Elliott about Alistair’s connection to the Illuminati?” Remy asked, jump-starting the conversation before David asked him a personal question.
“He said he had a feeling there was a problem and called ye, but it wasn’t about the Illuminati or the brooches. I couldn’t figure it out at first, but then I put the pieces together. If the call had been about a brooch, he would have called me. He didn’t. He called ye. What’s going on?”
“Not anything I want to talk about right now.”
“Can I assume the call ye just finished was with Charlotte?”
“I was checking on Archibald.”
David nodded. “I’ve known ye far too long to let ye get away with a nonanswer. Are ye sick? If there’s a weak link on my team, I want to know about it.”
“That’s bullshit, McBain.”
“Okay, then. I love ye like a brother. If ye’re sick, I want to help. Don’t shut me out.”
“If I tell you, you’ll tell Kenzie, and most of the family will know before the show starts tonight. I’m not ready to tell everyone.”
“So, Elliott was right. Ye’re sick.”
“I doan trust you or Elliott to keep things quiet.”
David held out his hand. “Ye have my word. It will piss Kenzie off, but I won’t betray yer confidence.”
Remy shook his hand but still questioned whether he should tell David. “I’m not sure you’ve ever kept a secret from Kenzie.”
“I didn’t tell her ye were planning to go to medical school and caught hell for that.”
“That’s true, but I doan believe you can keep this from her.”
“Whatever it is, ye have my word.”
“I found a lump in my right testicle.”
David took it in stride as if he were hearing the day’s weather report.
“Yer father died of testicular cancer, and this is scaring the shit out of ye. I don’t blame ye, but ye’re meticulous about yer health.
If it is cancerous, ye’ve caught it in the early stage, and that comes with a 99% five-year survival rate. ”
Remy’s gaze snapped to David like a laser, scanning his features for a sign that he was bullshitting. “How do you know that?”
David sipped his coffee, which was a delaying tactic he often used as he decided how much information to share. Usually, it was never enough for the person at the receiving end. For Remy, the tactic lit a low-burning fuse in his gut, igniting an accelerated heart rate.
“I did a deep background check on ye. When I discovered yer father died of testicular cancer, I told Elliott. He asked me to research the disease, which I did. He wanted to know if shared genetic factors increased yer risk. I told him it wasn’t a strong hereditary cancer overall, and it didn’t mean ye would get it.
But knowing about it was important for risk management, early detection, and an improved outcome. ”
Remy peered over the rim of his coffee cup. “He did a risk assessment on me! What the fuck?”
“It had no impact on his hiring decision,” David said, unfazed.
“I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Sorry,” David said mildly. “I can’t control how ye feel.”
“Asshole.”
David only shrugged.
Remy set the cup down harder than necessary and crumpled his napkin, tossing it into the nearby trash can. “Elliott told Charlotte, didn’t he?”
“He wanted her to know,” David said.
Remy glared at David. “I wondered how she had all the information at hand,” he ground out, the bitter taste of betrayal acidic on his tongue.
“She’d prepared for this day, hadn’t she?
” A tidal wave of fear suddenly crashed over him.
“That information could be ancient history by now,” Remy whispered, the panic stealing his breath.
“It could take days, maybe a week, to get up to speed. To research new treatments, new doctors. I can’t wait that long. ”
“We update our plan every year on the anniversary of yer hiring, which was last month.” David’s voice was a soft, rough burr against Remy’s panic, his face a landscape of deep concern.
“The information Charlotte gave ye was current. She’ll get ye the best possible care.
” He reached his hand out, but pulled it back just before making contact.
“Anything I can do, anything at all, ye’ve got it. Are ye going to tell Skye?”
Remy shook his head, a desperate gesture. “I can’t. Her mother died from breast cancer. I know what it did to her.” He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat immense and suffocating. “This might just… break her. It might be too much for her to handle.”
“Ye’ve misjudged her,” David insisted, his tone firm. “Skye will be there for ye. She won’t abandon ye.” His voice dropped to an urgent undertone. “Don’t shut her out. That’s not fair to either of ye. I’ll give ye some Elliott advice. Don’t push away the light when ye’re walking in the dark.”