Has anyone ever felt this breathless and cared for?
With my eyes closed, I take everything in. The way his cologne fills my nose, the musky notes giving a slight burn. How the fabric of his jacket is rough against my fingertips, and how his soft, warm skin causes my nerves to ache from his touch.
I commit it all to memory, so I can recall it anytime I need to feel like nothing in this world can harm me.
After another few seconds, he releases me. His forehead rests on mine. “I would die for you, Ren. Do you know that?”
His statement makes my breath hitch. “What?”
“If anything were to happen to us, I wouldn’t survive it.”
“What is going on?”
He releases a heavy sigh and steps back. “I just keep thinking about how much I love you and how it feels so intense. All I want is to hold onto us. It’s crazy, right? Do you feel it?”
I do. It’s sometimes scary because it’s overwhelming. It’s as though nothing in this world matters as much as him, and that’s not normal. We’re only twenty-three and yet I know that he’s the one.
“I feel it,” I say. “I love you so much sometimes that it physically hurts.”
“Yes.”
“And then I worried we wouldn’t be together and we’d fall apart.”
He takes my face in his hands again. “Never.”
I smile at that. “Good.”
“Marry me.”
My eyes lift to his, surely I misheard him.
“What?”
“Marry me, Serenity.” Then, Bryce drops to his knees. He holds my hand and pulls a box from his pants pocket. “I planned to do this at dinner, where I would tell you everything in my heart. You see, there is no one else for me. I found you that night and I knew that what we had was special. I told you that one day you’d be my wife, and I meant it then and I mean it now. Marry me. Be my wife. Let’s have a hundred kids. Marry me, Chick. Be my everything—until my last breath.”
I can’t see his face as the tears are streaming down. I drop to my knees and wrap my arms around him. “Yes. Yes! Yes!”
And then, neither of us really care about dinner.
Chapter 14
Okay, I can do this. I’m going to go in there, and do my job.
Today starts the actual administration of the drugs. All of the patients have been tested, folders numbered, and there’s no going back now. Allison will remain a part of the trial or need to be replaced within twenty-four hours in order for the trial to proceed. Since I don’t have another patient that meets the age and stage requirements and still actually has a uterus, she’s going to remain a part of the program. Also, she deserves the treatment. I’m her doctor, I took an oath, and I’m going to try to save her, no matter who she’s married to.
I push open the door to Allison Brown’s room and find her and her husband holding hands and smiling, and he stares at her the way he once looked at me. I draw in a deep breath and force a smile.
“Good morning, Allison.” I enter the room, keeping my eyes on her. I’m with Westin now, this shouldn’t matter. “How are you feeling?”
She looks at Bryce and then back to me. “Hopeful. I feel like maybe this is going to work and that maybe we can . . .”
Maybe they can have a baby.
Bryce’s eyes meet mine and I look away, hating myself for even going down that line of thinking.
This is what is wrong with me and why I’ll never be happy. It always comes back to him.
I follow the words on the paper, needing to do what I came in here to do without letting my ridiculous thoughts run away with me. “Well, everything looks great. Your labs are good, scans came back as we hoped, so now we’ll start to administer the medication and monitor you.” I force my gaze to hers. “Do you have any questions?”
She nods. “I know the waiver said that there would be patients who do not receive the trial dosage. Will those patients be made aware of that?”
This is the part that is pure torture for everyone involved, but mostly for me. Knowing that two of my twenty-four patients won’t get the drugs they’re hoping for is absolutely horrible. I’ll still be treating their cancer, but if they get the placebo, they’ll most likely need a hysterectomy by month two.
“No, as the trial paperwork stated, this is a placebo trial, meaning no one will know who has the drug and who has the placebo.” If a patient knew they were on the placebo, they’d drop out, which means it has to be a blind trial. “However, we will still be treating the cancer with traditional chemotherapy to show the difference,” I explain.
“So she could still need a hysterectomy?” Bryce asks.
“Yes,” I say while I nod, doing my best not to look at Allison and answer as though I don’t already know about the letter she gave me with her demands. “That’s correct, but I will be following the size of your tumor very closely. The rules state that I can’t do anything until the end of the trial, which is when I won’t hesitate to do the surgery.” I look into Allison’s tear-filled eyes.
I stare at her, begging her with all that’s in me to understand the consequences of her actions. “I know it’s scary, but I’ve treated this type of cancer for a long time, and as much as this trial is important, you’re more important. I won’t hesitate to alert you if the tumor grows to the point that the trial is no longer relevant. We can decide then.”
I can pretend to empathize with what she must be feeling, but I can’t, really. There’s a science behind medicine that takes out the human emotion. I work hard not to lose sight of that in dealing with my patients.
All I can do is pray that if it really does become a life or death situation, she’ll choose life.
“I don’t like this,” Bryce says. “I don’t understand how it’s fair. So you get to decide who gets the combo and who doesn’t?” There’s an edge to his voice I don’t appreciate.
This is exactly what I worried about.
If each patient received the same dosage, we’d never have a clear picture of how this combination works. I need to see comparisons of the same women receiving different drugs to make an accurate conclusion. Especially if we want this to be a viable option for other women across the world.
“Peyton,” Allison tries to calm him.
“No, this is completely ridiculous. We can go back to North Carolina and get the same treatment that we know will work.”
“Allison,” I pipe in, but get cut off again.
“You only care about your trial, Doctor,” he sneers. “I care about my wife.”
“I care about your wife as well, Mr. Peyton,” I say quickly. This could go off the rails very quickly if I don’t get control of this situation. “I don’t get to pick who gets what medication. It was done by a lottery that assigned each patient. It’s the only way to keep things fair and balanced,” I keep my tone even.
Until I open the sealed envelope, I won’t know which patients get the placebo. The worst part is that I’ll have to keep my reactions hidden so I don’t tip off a patient.
“This is bullshit, baby.” Bryce pushes Allison’s hair back and presses his lips to her temple. “We can get the surgery and adopt, or have a surrogate. I don’t want to play these games with your life. We can go home. We can have everything we wanted, Ali. It doesn’t have to be like this. I love you.”