I do my best not to swoon right here, but sometimes, the man says just what I need to hear. “You’re mine too, Bryce Peyton.” My hand rests on his chest and I hold back the tears. “Don’t you forget it.”
He smiles at me as though I’m crazy, and maybe I am. I have loved this man for the last two years in a way that has left me stunned. I’m still unsure that I’m making the right choice going to Chicago, but I’m hopeful we’ll stay strong.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
I nod. “And then we’ll see each other a few weeks after that.”
“We have to keep making plans because you and I don’t let the other down.”
“No,” I say with a sigh, “we don’t.”
He leans in, kissing me softly. “I hate that you’re not coming with me, but I understand why you’re not.”
It’s the first time he’s acknowledged that he gets it. My heart is filled with gratitude. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me do what I feel in my heart.”
He moves to the side, taking my hands in his. “I know you love your family and I’d be the worst kind of prick if I told you not to go. I was just scared. Fuck, I’m scared now. I don’t want us to drift apart, so you can’t let that happen.”
“I won’t.”
And I mean that vow. I will not let us falter.
“You better get going, baby. It’s going to be late and you have a long drive.”
I lift my hands to his face, and kiss him hard. The tears I fought to hold back fall without permission. The salty beads touch our lips, mixing in with our goodbye.
“Don’t cry,” he says as his thumb brushes the moisture away.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“I don’t blame you,” he jokes.
My laughter is short and comes out almost like a snort. “You’re stupid.”
“I’ve never claimed to be anything but.”
I just keep trying to drag this out. Not ready to go weeks without seeing him. It’s going to kill me to drive away.
“I should go . . .”
“Yeah, you should.”
I fight the strength to get in the car, feeling like I’m leaving half of my heart behind, and maybe I am, because it will belong to no one else.
“I love you.”
“I love you, Serenity. Until . . .”
“My last breath,” I finish for him.
And then he closes the door to my car, and our hands are on the glass, not able to touch, but needing a connection. I put the car in drive, tears falling freely and then his palm falls and I drive away, leaving the man I love behind.
“John,” I say with a smile as I see Mrs. Whitley’s son.
“Dr. Adams.”
“How are you?”
He looks over at the door where his mother is. “I’m okay. I was able to get a few hours off and came down here.”
“She misses you.”
I see the shame pass in his eyes. “I wish I could make it more, but with work and the kids. It’s just . . . hard.”
I have to push aside my own feelings about this wonderful woman and remember that everyone deals with things differently. It’s not my job to judge this man, but I can’t help but think of my own mother and how I would’ve gone back in time for just one more minute with her. One second where I could hold her hand, feel her love, or hear her voice.
“I understand, but she doesn’t have a lot of time left and she loves you so very much. I don’t want to see you regret anything.”
John’s hand goes to the back of his head and he squeezes. “I have regrets that a few days can’t solve.”
The fixer in me is screaming to tell him that what he’s doing now won’t help things, but I stay silent. “Well, I’m sure you made her day being here today.”
“Hopefully I can come again in a few days with the girls.”
I give him a soft smile. “I really hope so too. I know she’d love to see them.”
He nods once and then starts to walk away. When I’m right at the door he calls my name.
“I know you think I’m a shitty son for not being here, and I’m sure I am. She talks about you all the time and how much time you spend in her room. Whether or not we’re here, I’m glad she’s had you.”
I think about my brother and how he’s handled losing my mother. I want to tell John all of it, but I’m not sure if I should. How many times did we tell him to go more and he didn’t? Countless times. Fuck propriety. If I can stop anyone from spiraling like Everton, I’m going to do it. “I lost my mother to cancer,” I say. “I know the pain of watching someone you love die, but she’s going to die, John, and I promise, you’ll wish for the time you’re squandering now. You’ll want to reach for the phone or just sit beside her and you won’t be able to. Come back with the girls because I promise if you don’t, you’ll regret it and never be able to fix it.”
He doesn’t say anything as he walks away.
I turn, take a few deep breaths and plaster a smile on my face. “How’s my favorite patient?” I ask as I walk into Mrs. Whitley’s room.
“Tired,” she croaks. “Lots of pain today.”
I look at the chart, noticing that her vitals aren’t strong either. A nurse walks in and I write some notes. “Up her fluids and let’s give her another dose of morphine for the pain.”
Mrs. Whitley is starting to fade. I’m not ready to say goodbye to her. I need her in my life more than ever. Part of me hates myself for getting attached to her. It was never a surprise she had cancer, I’m the one that diagnosed her. But each day I find myself more drawn to her.
“John came today,” she tells me as I sit beside her.
“He did?” I smile, wanting to let her have this moment so I pretend I don’t know.
“He . . . he sat here and told me about the girls.” She coughs.
“When did the cough start?”
She ignores me. “I saw pictures.”
That’s great, but I’m worried about her lungs. I stand, put my stethoscope on and listen to her lungs. Her breathing is shallow, but she sounds clear. “Tell me about the cough.”
Mrs. Whitley takes my hand. “Let me tell you about John.”
I sit on the edge of her bed and realize she doesn’t want Dr. Adams right now, she needs a friend. Her days are filled with a lot of nothing, unless we visit with her. Today, she wants to tell the story, and I want to listen.
“Okay.” I smile and place my hand over hers. “Did John show you pictures?”
Immediately, her face brightens. “He did—they’re getting so big. I hoped he’d bring them, but they were on a video on the phone. He said they’d come again soon.”
She speaks and I listen, offering my happiness when she pauses. You can see the weight lift off her shoulders as she relays the information about her grandchildren and son. John stayed for just under an hour, but it made her entire day.
Even with her health deteriorating, her spirit has definitely taken a turn for the better. We talk about the trial, but mostly I just enjoy listening to her.