13. Layla #2
I did, but I wasn’t sure I understood. “You felt good enough during treatment to be physical?” I’d assumed sex would be off the table for months and months, but was it possible?
“Everyone is different, but come that third week between chemo treatments I started to feel up for it. It was my window.”
“But what about—you know?” I gestured to my chest. I sure as hell wouldn’t let Kellan see me this way.
“Honey, you wear a sexy camisole to cover your upper half, then put your naked ass in the air, and your man won’t give a crap you had a mastectomy. He’s gonna be turned on. Not saying he shouldn’t go gentle, but where there’s desire, there’s a way.”
A giggle escaped my throat. She wasn’t wrong. Hadn’t Kellan said my ass was his favorite feature? “I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”
After my shower and breakfast, I sat on the sofa and thought more about Patty’s words. Perhaps there was hope for this thing with Kellan. Maybe I could feel sexy and get things back to the way they’d started between us.
By the time night fell, I’d napped, eaten some cereal for lunch, and was settling in for a movie while contemplating what to eat for dinner. Funny how I’d craved solitude while in the hospital but was now already sick of it.
Kellan’s text surprised me. “You still up?”
It was only eight o’clock, but considering I’d crashed around this time last night, I understood why he was asking.
“Yep. Up and watching a movie.”
“Hungry?”
“I thought you had a meeting?” I replied.
“Did, but it’s over. I thought I’d bring over the chowder tonight instead of waiting until Friday.”
I was torn. Of course I was anxious to see him, but I didn’t want this to become a nightly thing, either. That wasn’t dating; that was a relationship. But dammit, it was clam chowder. “Sure, sounds great.”
“Be there in about thirty.”
At a snail’s pace, I got up off the couch in order to ensure I looked somewhat decent. After inspecting myself in the mirror, I didn’t bother with makeup and simply left my hair down.
He arrived on time with a bag that smelled delicious. Once again, he hadn’t hesitated in kissing me at the door. It was as though he’d waited all day for the opportunity.
“Hi, you.”
I grinned. “Hi back.”
“Hope you’re hungry.”
“I am.” I followed him into the kitchen, thinking he was sexy in his faded work jeans and a plaid, button-down shirt.
“I brought lots of clam chowder and bread. I figured what we don’t eat you can have for lunch tomorrow.” He set out the containers, making my eyes go big.
“You bought enough for a couple of lunches.”
He grinned. “Maybe I enjoy knowing you’ll eat them and think of me.”
“It doesn’t take soup for that to happen.” Whether I wanted it or not, Kellan was never very far from my mind.
He kissed my nose. “Good. Where do you feel like eating?”
“How about the table this time around?”
“You got it.” He set it up while I got the spoons and napkins.
We took our seats at the small dining table and settled in to each take our first bite of the delicious clam chowder.
I found I had to put it out there. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I know. I hoped you wouldn’t be annoyed with me dropping by two days in a row. But I hated the thought of waiting until Friday.”
“I’m not annoyed, but you must be tired. How was your day?”
“Productive. We started with the demolition of the old kitchen and bathrooms, and also tearing down a wall that now sits between the living room and dining area. Demo’s normally the easiest part.”
He was working on his ex’s parents’ house if I remembered correctly. I didn’t ask. At least not about that. “Was the meeting with another potential client?”
He hesitated before answering. “Actually, it was with the Williamses about their current renovations. They already needed to discuss some changes.”
“Ah, I take it the ex was there, too.” I tried—for a millisecond—not to ask the question, but my nature was nosey.
He blew out a breath. “She was there. She’s always there. Every morning, sometimes in the afternoons with lunch. She must not have a job of her own.”
Jealousy was a tough thing to stow, but I let it go. He sounded as if he was annoyed by her presence, and he wasn’t trying to hide any of it. On top of that, I had no exclusive rights to him, so it wasn’t really my business.
“How was today with Patty?” he asked, a welcome change of subject.
“Great.” I decided to bring up what she’d mentioned. “She told me the third week after chemo—before the next round—tends to be the best window for having sex. Even offered up a position I believe you’ll be fond of.”
He covered his mouth, looking as if he was choking until he finally swallowed down his soup. “Warn a guy, pre-chowder, before you bring up the words sex and position.”
I grinned. “Sorry. I just—I was curious what you thought about that?”
He set his spoon down, studying me. “I guess—I’m not sure.”
My self-esteem plummeted. His uncertainty was hard to take, especially after learning he was seeing his ex on a daily basis. “I get it.” With my gaze cast downward, I concentrated on my soup and regretted I’d brought up the subject.
“Look at me, Layla.”
“Nope. I’m enjoying the soup, and I shouldn’t have said anything.
This is one of those moments where I’m being stupid emotional over something.
Besides, I shouldn’t be discussing this yet.
” Let that be a tough lesson about my emotions.
They were irrational. What in the hell had I been thinking to bring up sex?
“Babe, look at me.”
Damn, that little pet name was causing butterflies.
He reached across the small table, gently lifting my chin until my eyes were on his.
A stupid tear slid down my stupid face despite my best efforts. “Sorry. I know sex is the last thing you’re thinking of when you look at me right now,” I whispered.
He shook his head and dropped his hand. “Don’t presume to guess what I’m thinking.
Because that’s definitely not it. I remain wildly attracted to you in every sense of the word.
But I recognize your body has been through a major surgery, and you’re still recovering.
As for chemo, I don’t think either of us knows how you’ll feel.
So, when I say I’m not sure, it’s not about having sex with you.
It’s about the timing. There is nothing more attractive than you wanting me. But only once you’re ready.”
What he said made sense, but it made me realize something.
Any dating I’d ever done—from the time I was sixteen and lost my virginity up to this point—had been all about the physical connection.
Even my relationship with Chad had started out with sex.
It was though my sexuality had been my currency, the measure by which I was valued.
Without it, I found myself in new territory. In a very vulnerable place.
It came as a relief that Kellan didn’t press. He simply kissed my wrist. “We’ll get there. Okay?”
“’Kay,” I mumbled back, grateful he didn’t realize how worried I was. Did I have enough to me other than sex to keep his interest?
“Speaking of your chemo, what’s your plan? Do you mind sharing? I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but the Internet is a dangerous place when I try looking things up.”
“I don’t mind.” I was grateful for the topic change and relieved he was interested in learning more.
“Because of the triple negative, there’s not an effective hormone treatment like with some of the other types of breast cancer.
But the good news is it normally responds well to chemo, which is why we’re starting that before the radiation. ”
“I read that it affects about twenty percent of breast cancer patients, this triple negative.”
“Yes. It tends to be more aggressive than the other types and strikes younger women. Because of how aggressive it is, my doctor recommended the double mastectomy.”
“You indicated it was node positive. What does that mean for treatment?”
It was impressive he remembered the fire hose of information I’d spewed at him that morning at the hospital. “It means I have some detected cancer cells in the lymph nodes, so radiation will be necessary after I’m finished with chemo. That’s why I have to wait on the breast reconstruction.”
“Some people get the reconstruction right away?”
I’d been surprised to learn that, too. “With certain types, it’s possible to do the mastectomy and reconstruction with implants in the same surgery. I’d rather it could’ve happened that way. Would be less emotional, I think, than simply having my breasts removed.”
“When do you start chemo?”
“On Monday.”
I waited for him to say something else or ask more questions, but instead he simply took my hand. Sometimes the best words were no words at all.