Chapter Forty-Two Sophie
Chapter Forty-Two
Sophie
August
Maeve says the color red signifies good fortune.
With this appointment today, I need all the good fortune I can get.
My hands smooth down the soft fabric of the red sundress I'm wearing for the first time.
The dress is cap-sleeved, fitted through the bodice with a gentle sweetheart neckline that frames the still settling cleavage from my breast implants placed last month.
The hem swishes around my calves, and it's made of a wonderfully soft, breathable fabric.
And the best part? It has two pockets on the sides. A perfect dress, in my opinion.
Bailey helped me pick it out last month after my implant exchange surgery.
She said I needed some new clothes to showcase my new and improved girls.
When I stepped out of the boutique dressing room wearing it, Bailey gasped so loudly that the saleswoman startled.
When it was time to pay, she slapped her credit card on the counter.
"This one's on me!" Bailey declared, clapping her hands in excitement.
This was a dress worthy of a good day, and I truly hope today will be memorable.
Turning my head in the mirror above my dresser, I fluff my hair—my hair!
—and feel my throat grow tight for a moment.
It's grown so much in the last six months, falling to my chin in loose curls, a nice little gift from chemotherapy.
The pixie grow-out phase was a little rough, and I had to get a couple of routine haircuts to get rid of the mullet, but my hairstylist said now I should be able to just let it grow and grow until I'm happy with the length.
I've missed having hair, and I always glance over to my wig still on its stand with happiness at the comfort it and Sasha gave me when I needed it.
My eyebrows and eyelashes have completely grown back, and I'm actually ten pounds heavier than I was before cancer, which I'm not mad about.
I like the fullness of my body, and the added weight to my belly, hips, and thighs makes me look more radiant.
.. and Callum seems to have no complaints either.
I've also been thoroughly enjoying having an appetite and cooking and baking again, thanks to my renewed energy.
In these last six months, everything in my life has just gotten better and better.
Radiation, of course, was its own particular beast, but the side effects were about the same as chemotherapy. After going through that and the surgeries, I feel like I can take on anything thrown my way.
The sessions were about half an hour long, and while I appreciated the routine of it all—Virgo—it was just the frequency that got to me.
Five days a week for six weeks. Even though I was cleared to drive myself, Callum, Tess, or Tonya took turns driving me there, waiting in the parking lot, and then driving me back home.
The treatment itself was much like what I read from other survivors, and was told by my nurses—my chest was red and sore and tight like I had a bad sunburn.
Thankfully, that was easily managed with cold aloe vera and a thick hydrating cream.
I had already been dealing with fatigue and loss of appetite from chemo, so that wasn't a big change.
The only new thing was a tightness across my chest, which I noticed less after the third week.
All in all, radiation went fine, probably because I was sufficiently distracted throughout the process.
Life resumed in its wonderfully normal routine.
It looks like I'll be going back to the office two days a week in September.
Avery said we could start slow and see how I feel, since this whole journey proved that my job can pretty much be done anywhere.
The surgery went well, and the recovery, while uncomfortable, was almost laughably manageable compared to the mastectomy. It was much of the same—can't raise my arms, can't sleep lying down, some bruising and swelling and pain.
And through it all was Callum, my otter, who washed my hair as it grew, changed my bandages, helped me get dressed, and carried everything I couldn't. He learned my medication schedule, held me when I cried through the aches and pains, and never made me feel like a burden.
He just remains. Still here, still with me, smile on his face and love in his eyes.
I don't know how I'll ever repay him. Even though he tells me I don't need to, that showing up is how he knows how to love, there's still a part of me that feels unworthy of his devotion.
But those thoughts lead nowhere good. So instead, I'll love Callum the way he needs to be loved—by being present and showing up for him, the way he has for me.
I will bake him all the banana bread, and talk about books until my throat is hoarse, and watch all of the movies, quoting them back and forth to each other until our stomachs hurt from laughing, and hold him close at night, whispering how much he means to me.
The truth is that loving Callum is the easiest and most meaningful thing I will ever do.
I will never take him or his love for granted.
And to keep moving forward, I need the appointment today to tell me the news I've been hoping for.
If Dr. Rajab tells me that we're not done fighting, then that's okay. I'll fight again. We will deal with it and take the next steps.
But the last couple of appointments, things have looked incredibly positive. My body has responded well to the treatments, my blood work has been promising, and my scans have been clear.
I just need to hear those words.
Cancer-free.
"Baby, are you re—oh..." Callum stops in the doorway of our bedroom, freezing in his tracks when he sees me.
I turn to him and smile, trying not to nervously fidget in front of him.
Not because I'm uncomfortable in front of him, but because there have been so many changes to my body in the last couple of months.
This is the first time I'm dressing up in my new body, and I just really want him to think I look pretty.
This dress is a little bolder than what I usually wear, but 'life is too short to not take fashion risks', as Bailey said when I tried it on.
"Do you like it?" I ask, giving him a little twirl.
I'm wearing a pair of low wedges, which gives me a boost of an inch or two, but Callum still towers over me in them. I've always loved how tall and broad he is, folding me completely in his embrace, which makes me feel so safe and protected.
His hand flies to his chest. "You're so beautiful..."
"Still?"
"Always," he replies fiercely. In three strides, I'm wrapped up in his arms, and I breathe in his scent.
He always smells so good, and I can't resist tipping my chin up, cupping his cheeks, and kissing him deeply.
His lips are so soft, and his beard tickles my cheeks and chin, and that peaceful feeling he always gives me washes the nerves from my body.
When we pull away to catch our breath, I notice what he's wearing—a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his thick forearms and open at the collar to show off the dusting of hair on his broad chest. His dark grey dress pants hug his strong legs and taper down to actual dress shoes instead of his usual boots.
He's brushed his hair back with pomade, but I rise on my toes to loosen a few strands because I love his usual scruffy look too much. He looks... like a dream man.
My dream man.
"You look very handsome, my otter," I say softly, and giggle when the skin above his beard darkens.
My Callum has changed a bit over the last year.
His foot-in-mouth disease is still alive and thriving, but he's learned to process his thoughts before blurting out something unintentionally filthy.
He's gotten more confident in himself, especially during sex—he growls sweet words in my ear that can almost make me come on command, and he knows my body probably better than I know it by this point.
Sex with him is... unlike anything I've ever experienced, and it feels like it just gets better and better the more we do it.
I think loving and knowing that you're loved in return is just a natural confidence booster.
And yet... I still love it when I can fluster him.
"Thank you, baby," he murmurs, voice a little thick. "Just wanted to... dress up for today."
"Would you want to go out on a date after?" I ask, my voice quiet and careful. I don't want to say too much in case it jinxes things. "To... celebrate? If we get the news we want?"
Callum's face softens, but his eyes gleam a bit mischievously, like he has a secret he can't tell me yet. "I have just the place we can go."
"Okay," I nod, matching his smile because I don't doubt him for a second. Whatever he has planned, I'm sure it's amazing.
He leans down to press a kiss to my forehead, then buries his face in my hair at my temple, inhaling like he's greedy for my scent. He bends slightly so I can wrap my arms around his neck, then gently lifts me and places me on top of his feet.
"But, you're not wearing your boots, I don't want to hur—" I start to protest, conscious of the fact that I'm a little heavier now.
"Please," he deadpans and looks at me like I'm ridiculous, which makes me laugh. He'd done the same thing at the store when he first scooped me onto his boots. I'd protested then too, worried about hurting him, and he'd given me the same dry look as he swayed me around to the music playing.
He does it again, but this time there's no music, just the sound of our breathing, the hum of the apartment building. He pulls me flush against him, one hand going to the back of my head to tangle in my hair, the other an iron bar around my waist as we just exist together for a moment or two.
"Whatever they say," Callum murmurs into my temple, "we will face it together."
"Together," I breathe, clinging to him tighter, but his words give me strength.
I can face anything with Callum at my side.