Chapter Thirty-Nine Sophie
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sophie
December
Darlene Love plays from the speakers, the scent of pine and cinnamon is in the air, and the snow falls steadily outside.
I have a steaming mug of hot chocolate in one hand, a candy cane in the other, and an insanely handsome man in a dark green sweater next to me, hanging ornaments on a Christmas tree.
All in all, I feel like I'm in heaven.
"A little to the left, sweetest heart," Maeve instructs from her spot at her tarot table, not even looking up at Callum, attempting to hang the ornament.
She just keeps stringing popcorn through a string to wrap around the tree.
Callum moves his hand, and she nods, again not looking up.
I don't question Maeve anymore. "Right there. "
Callum and Atticus returned around noon with two trees from the local tree farm—one for the store and one for the apartment upstairs.
We're currently decorating the store's tree first, but tonight, Callum, Maeve, and I will decorate the one up in the apartment.
The place I've been calling home for the last month, since I got out of the hospital.
To my utter disappointment, I wasn't able to go with Callum and Atticus to pick out the trees.
I'm on strict orders from my doctors to avoid crowds for the foreseeable future.
At least until after the surgery, though I know I won't want to see people for a while after that.
With all the free time I have, especially after taking an early and extended leave of absence from work, I've been heavily researching online forums for others' mastectomy experiences.
The consensus seems to be that it's going to be painful to move, I won't be able to lift my arms above my shoulders, and carrying things will be a no-go.
I'm trying to get my fill of feeling like a person now as I reach up to hang a candy cane from a high branch and feel two strong arms on my waist, lifting me.
I giggle and place the candy cane on the branch, and Callum gently lowers me to the floor, kissing my forehead when I'm steady. He did extremely well picking out the trees, not too tall, but wide with sturdy branches. I tell him so, and he just smiles at me, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
"Next year, you can pick out all of our trees," Callum promises, the rumble of his chest against my back.
"Oh, just you wait—next year, when I'm cancer-free, I'm going to pick the biggest, tallest, fattest trees I can find," I tease him, tilting my head back to see his face. He doesn't even blink, just smiles back at me with those warm brown eyes.
"As you wish."
The soft tone of his voice makes my stomach flip, and I raise up on my tiptoes to kiss his lips.
It's nice to return to some normalcy and feel like a human again.
November passed by in a blur of healing.
I had to stay in the hospital for about two weeks recovering before I could come home.
Honestly, I can barely even remember the day I got sick.
I remember leaving the hotel, feeling so happy and grateful for the wonderful weekend spent with Callum.
From the gala to the after to the day spent at the zoo and museum, it was the best weekend of my entire life.
Joy. Pure joy, that's all I felt all day.
That night, I started feeling really tired, but I thought it was just because of the long, busy, fun-filled day.
I had fallen asleep in that big bed, curled and secure in Callum's arms, still buzzing with happiness and love for this man of mine.
My last thought was a wish, wanting a million more days like it in the future.
With Callum.
When I woke up that morning, I noticed I felt even more tired than when I went to sleep, and my body was achy, but again, I had written it off as just pain from not being that active in a while. Then, in the shower, my skin started hurting in that way when you know you're feeling sick.
Denial is quite the drug, and I just kept making excuses.
But the reality is quite selfish, that I had experienced something I hadn't felt in months—a world where I wasn't a cancer patient, where there were no chemo appointments, and poking and prodding at doctors' offices, and talks of surgery and radiation.
I just enjoyed the day out with my otter, looking at actual otters.
I even forgot about the cancer completely for a while that day, until I reached up to scratch my head at one point and my wig shifted.
If I brought up that I was feeling sick, it would all come crashing down.
And I had just thought it was a small cold, I would be fine.
I had worked full days while sick before, and I had an entire day to rest when we got back to Starling Cove.
Everything would be fine. Despite the back of my head, the warnings of my immune system being weak from the chemo rolling around.
I ignored them because I wanted to live.
That was a huge mistake, clearly. One I paid dearly for.
I should have spoken up to Callum and told him the truth about how I was feeling.
I should have told him to drive us right to the hospital.
But, I didn't—and that's on me.
Everything after Callum lying me in his bed is all a blur. Callum told me I was delirious at that point, mumbling different things and then completely passing out on the way over.
I just remember waking up in a hospital bed, being so confused, and feeling like I had been hit by a truck. The emergency room doctor—Dr. Rashid—was there, comforting me, telling me everything was okay.
The only thing I could squeak out of my dry throat was, "C... Callum... Callum..."
Dr. Rashid assured me that he was there, that they would get Callum for me, but that they needed to walk me through what's going on.
With a gentle voice, he explained that I was in protective isolation, my immune system couldn't defend itself against a tiny cold, and that I was responding well to antibiotics.
He mentioned that my white blood cell count had dropped to a dangerously low level, almost nonexistent.
Oncology was monitoring me, and everything seemed to be going well, but this might push back my treatment plan.
From now on, I would have to be more conscious of my immune system so this couldn't happen again, or the outcome would be deadly.
I took Dr. Rashid very seriously.
Callum took it like a strict set of military orders.
No grocery stores, no malls, no restaurants, no movie theaters, no crowded spaces at all.
If I am around people, I have to wear a mask, and Callum makes everyone else wear masks too. He bought KN95 masks for anyone else who needs to be around me. I've had to do the last couple of book club meetings on FaceTime while everyone gathered downstairs, and I stayed upstairs with Callum.
Dr. Rashid said that I should have trusted people around me to help, and that further isolation could do more harm than good at this point. So, I've temporarily moved in with Callum and Maeve.
Maeve hired a new employee, Morgan, for the store, a student at the local community college. The extra help has given Callum some more time to spend with me. Plot has also decided that I am under his care and sleeps at my feet on Callum's bed, like a little gray sentinel guarding my sleep.
And well, it hasn't really been a hardship to live with Callum for the last month.
Waking up in his arms that weekend in Boston was an absolute dream, and now I'm living every day like that.
The first thing I see when I open my eyes is my sleepy giant's face, and I can't help but smile and snuggle closer.
I seek warmth in my sleep, always have, so I find myself practically wrapped around Callum in the morning, my face mushed against his warm chest, the sound of his heartbeat gently rousing me.
So, if we're looking at it from those lenses, the hospital stay would be worth it.
If only I didn't know how badly Callum tore himself up over guilt.
Two weeks ago, Tonya told me about his words and his guilt during a FaceTime call, saying that she, Atticus, and Jane had straightened him out.
When I heard that, I promptly sat myself in his lap that night and very firmly told him that my falling sick was not his fault, that he could not blame himself.
"Don't be mad at the man I love," I growled at him, which did make him laugh a bit, even if I could still see a little bit of self-recrimination in his eyes. That just won't do.
"I just—" I kissed him to silence any objection, feeling him smile against my lips.
"You're not winning this one, otter," I murmured against his lips, nipping them. "Accept your inevitable defeat."
"If this is defeat," he grinned, reaching his hands up to cup my face. "What's victory like?"
"Want to find out?" I gave him a saucy grin, wiggling my eyebrows and making him laugh once more.
I've been FaceTiming Tess every single day since I woke up in the hospital.
She told me that Callum had called her and explained everything, and that while it wasn't the way she wanted to talk to him the first time, she wholeheartedly approves, especially after he kept his word about the 30-minute updates and the detail he went into with them. "That man really loves you, Soph."
Good, because I really love him too.
Another good news about my hospital stay is that Tess was able to parlay it into outprocessing a lot sooner than she thought she'd be able to. Her retirement will begin in early February, and she'll be able to be here for my radiation treatment and some of my surgery recovery.
Thankfully, at my last appointment, my oncologist, Dr. Rajab, told me that, despite my hospital stay, everything else looks good. By some miracle, and because they want to get the surgery done ASAP, they will only need to push it back a week.