CHAPTER 50
Summer
“Declan, here are the rules,” I say into the bathroom mirror.
Despite all the practicing I’ve been doing, I can’t quite get it right, that perfect balance of gentle and firm.
I try again. “First of all, don’t let me complain.
Second, you are not permitted to feel sorry for me.
The instant you start to feel like this is too much for you to handle, get going.
Leave me immediately, before the first hint of resentment takes root.
And you have to promise me you’ll find another woman after I die. ”
I choke up on the last rule, then hate myself for being so selfish. I have no right to get all emotional at the thought of Declan being happy with another woman after I die.
I splash cold water on my face and try to steady my breath.
Maybe I should skip that rule for the time being.
It would be horrible if I managed to stay all stable and rational only to lose it when I get to that last bit.
If I break down at any point, then he’ll doubt my seriousness when it comes to all the rest of the rules.
“Don’t be a wimp,” I tell my reflection. “You’ve never been a wimp, not once in your whole life. What’s the point of starting now?”
I leave the bathroom, slip on my boots, and grab my coat. I’m filled with the resolve that my new sisters gave me.
And love.
Love has given me resolve.
I put my hand on the doorknob, but it turns on its own and the door swings open. Declan is on the other side. He was coming in to see me as I was going out to see him.
“You don’t knock?”
“There are no locked doors at Yosemite Ranch. We just come and go. Besides, we’re married.” He looks like hell.
“Damn you, Beyoncé,” we say in unison, and then stare at each other.
“I will not be dumped,” Declan says. He isn’t pleading. He’s stating a fact.
“I’m not dumping you. I’m saving you. Those are two different things.”
“Too late. If you’d been interested in saving my ass, you should’ve done it before I figured out you can’t cook, and you don’t put your dirty clothes in the hamper and how you have a horrible habit of jumping without looking.”
“I’m saving you from the ovary thing.”
We’re silent again. Looking at each other again.
“It’s not fucking fair,” I say. I can barely get the words out.
“No, it’s fucking not,” he agrees.
“I don’t have any pain. No symptoms. How can I have… cancer?” I whisper the word frightened of saying it too loudly, in case it feeds off of being addressed by name.
“Can you be packed and ready in two hours?”
“Ready for what?”
“I made some calls. We’re going to see the number one gynecologic oncologist in the world. Say that three times fast. I’m flying you to New York.”
I groan. “Ugh, not more flying.”
“It’s just to the other side of the country. No biggie.”
“I’ve missed you so much, Declan.”
“I’ve missed you more.”
He grabs me and pulls me in, wrapping me up in his embrace and squeezing me so hard and long that I worry he’ll snap me like a twig. Then he releases me, cradles me in the crook of an arm, and drops a tender, loving kiss on my lips.
“Let’s get you packed up,” he says.
He takes my hand and together we walk to my bedroom. I collect my duffel bag from the closet floor and start throwing things inside. I toss in a bra and panties. A pair of pajama pants and some fuzzy socks. Two pairs of jeans, one cotton sweater, and two long-sleeved tees.
“You still got that black lingerie from Las Vegas?” He raises his gaze to me, looking like a kid caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar.
“You mean the stuff you said provided less coverage than dental floss?”
“I knew there was a reason I liked it.”
“Maybe it’s still around here somewhere.” I grab the half-cup bra and thong panty from the top drawer and toss them into the duffel, smiling to myself. He’s so cute. I look up.
Declan’s leaning against the wall near my closet, just watching me, hands shoved down into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing an old fisherman’s sweater and hiking boots. His hair is a little longer than I’ve ever seen it, and his jaw is stubbled.
That boy is so outrageously handsome. He always has been.
I remember the day I met him, when Joe gave me a lift from town and brought me to Yosemite. I stepped out of the pickup and the first thing I see is this gorgeous guy standing there, wondering who in the world I was.
Really big and muscular, but young. Probably only a couple years older than me. With a wide, sweet smile and eyes of such an unusual color that I had to keep looking to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light. He was the first MacLaine I met.
I liked him immediately, and I was surprised at how crushed I was to learn he’d soon be joining his older brothers in the Navy. Because in the course of just a few weeks, the good-looking kid had made me laugh more than I had in my whole life.
I discovered that I could breathe when I was around him, deep and steady. He was my lifeline, though he didn’t know it. He brought me into the ranch and into the family and made me feel welcome.
By the time Declan left, he was already the best friend I’d ever had. In his absence, I dug into ranch work as a way to prove myself, to earn a place among the finest people I’d ever run across. I kept busy. Learned the ropes from Jamie and worked alongside Declan’s little brother, Kevin.
I thought of him all the time. I kept in touch with letters and emails. And when Declan would pop in for a visit, we’d just pick up where we left off. The best of friends. It was a pattern that repeated for close to a decade. And then he came home to stay.
And it all changed.
As a sixteen-year-old girl, I’d never paid any attention to boys. I didn’t have time for them, though they were always sniffing around like stray dogs, trying to stick their snouts where they didn’t belong.
Of course, I knew about sex. I even knew a few girls who’d already had babies.
I didn’t want any of that shit. I was looking for a way out of all the misery I saw all around me.
The last thing I wanted was a rope around my ankle, keeping me tied down and trapped, keeping me from the only thing I wanted.
To get out.
I look at Declan now, smiling sadly from his spot against the wall. He’s still the same guy he was back then. He’s still big and strong but gentle all the same. His eyes still make me do a double take sometimes. He’s still my best friend.
I feel it out of nowhere. Fear tears into my gut, cold and sharp. I gasp for breath and fight back another round of tears.
“What if the doctor says I can never make love again?” I ask him.
Declan frowns.
“What if they tell me that it will never be safe for me to have sex again, no matter how long I survive?”
“Then we don’t have sex.”
“But I want to have sex.”
“Not as much as I want to have sex.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.” Declan pushes off the wall and comes toward me, his arms open.
I fall against him. And without thinking, without any kind of intention or grand plan, we’re gently kicking off our shoes.
I remove his sweater and his jeans, my fingertips gliding on his hard flesh.
He removes my sweatshirt and sweatpants, touching me with care. And we fall together into my bed.
Declan shoves the duffel bag onto the floor and covers me with his heat and strength. His mouth is all over mine, then leaves trails of kisses along my neck and throat, my shoulders and arms, my breasts and belly. Intense pleasure races through me.
Then he’s cupping my ass with his hands and feasting on me, kissing and licking and sucking at me like I’m some kind of delicacy.
Like the oysters on the half shell Kirk wasn’t allowed to order for me.
I start laughing.
Declan pops up and gives me a curious look, one eyebrow arched. “Some husbands might feel insecure after that reaction.”
“C’mere.” I pull him up on top of me. I settle beneath him and stroke his face. “You’re not just any husband, you know.”
“Oh, I know.”
“You’re my husband, Declan. And I want you to make love to me. Please.”
I soften under him and open myself, willing and hungry for him. I have a desperate need for him to devour me, take me, and remind me that at this moment, I’m still alive and still in love.
As always, the man does not disappoint.