I am, she wrote. She smiled to herself as she tucked her legs beneath her. It’s been wonderful.
The kids miss you, Charles responded. Give them a call soon, if you would?
I will, she wrote back. I promise. Which night is good?
Friday, Charles wrote. After 8:00.
Will do, Tess wrote. All of you send your wives my love, okay?
I miss my buddy, Dane wrote. That’s all. Love you, Tesstastic.
Her heart gave a squeeze as she wrote. Awww. I miss you and love you too. All of you. Talk to you soon. Xoxo
With an exhausted exhale, she dropped the phone onto the coffee table. Then she scooped Bubbles up and hugged her close as her brothers’ words pinged around in her head. She appreciated that they missed her and were concerned . . . but she wasn’t going to tell them or anyone what was going on until she was already pregnant. This was for her. This whole situation was hers and hers alone.
Another text dinged in. She picked up the phone to look. From Logan: You okay today, tigress? No bruises or anything, I hope? Was wondering. Concerned.
He was sweet. She kept her response light. Not much. Come over tomorrow night and see for yourself. Last night of this ovulation.
Yes ma’am, he wrote back. Busy at work today. Just wanted to check in. Text you tonight.
Have a good day, she wrote, adding a smiley emoji.
You too.
Logan’s ruggedly handsome face appeared in her head. She sighed. Well . . . the situation was almost hers alone. There was also this wonderful man who was doing her the favor of a lifetime, whom she’d just realized she was in love with, and couldn’t ever tell him that or he’d probably shut her out of his life. That . . . complicated things a bit.
* * *
Logan held his mother’s arm as they walked slowly into the hospital. She was having one of her bad days, drained and no appetite. He’d tried to get her to eat some lunch, but she’d shooed him away. He’d managed to beg and bully her into drinking a cup of chicken broth before they’d left her house. Now, they sat side by side in the doctor’s office, waiting for him and her latest results. Logan had a bad feeling deep in his gut.
He was on edge and he knew it. His leg bounced as they sat.
“Stop with the leg,” Annmarie chided. “You’re making me jittery.”
“Sorry.” With effort, he stilled his movement. “I’m nervous. Can’t lie.”
“Don’t be,” she said. Her face looked pale and drawn. “Whatever it is, it is. Worrying won’t change that.”
She was right and he hated it. He tried to think of good things . . . skiing with Tess, or being in bed with her. That only put him a bit more over the edge. Her ovulation cycle past, they were in the No Sex Zone now. It’d been two weeks since he’d been inside her, and every muscle in his body was tense with craving. They still spent time together, continuing the ruse for his mom. But being close to her only amplified his longing and need . . . He wanted her all the time. When he’d told her that on Valentine’s Day, he hadn’t been kidding. And he’d surprised himself with the fervor of his words . . . his feelings.
The doctor came in, greeting them as he closed the door behind him, file folders in his hands. Logan took one look at his face and his heart plummeted to his stomach.
The words came in something of a blur as he listened. The latest scans showed . . . efforts were no longer effective . . . two new tumors in her lymph nodes . . . could go at them aggressively . . . Logan felt dazed. His blood rushed through his body, roaring in his ears and pulsing behind his eyes. His stomach twisted nauseously.
“That’s it then,” Annmarie said quietly. “No more. No more treatment.”
“Mom,” Logan choked out.
She shook her head and held up a hand. “My body. My life. My call.” Her eyes were clear as she looked at her son, then the doctor. “I’m going to die anyway. Time to stop poisoning myself and prolonging it. I go out on my terms.”
Logan swallowed back a rush of bile. His mind raced as he looked frantically from one to the other, but he knew. He knew nothing he said would sway her or change her mind; he’d gotten his stubborn streak from her, after all.
He knew this was the real beginning of the end. The doctor looked a little sad but accepting, as if he’d known this was coming. As they talked, discussing it all, Logan felt sick. Desperate, enraged, and lost. But he held it together. For her. Anything for her. He gazed at her, fists clenched in his lap. She needed his strength and support, now more than ever. He could fall apart at home, in private.