My tears join the raindrops that are falling down my face, and I wonder why life has to be so unbearably cruel.
I pull away from him briefly. “Can you do me one last favor?” I ask, knowing that I don’t deserve to ask him that, even as the words leave my mouth.
“Anything,” he swears.
“I just want these last few weeks to be happy. I know that it’s a hard thing to ask of you. But I want to hear you laugh, I want to see Quaid smile, I want to see Carter roll his eyes with that infuriating smirk that means he’s secretly amused. I want to take those moments with me to whatever’s waiting for me. Do you think that’s possible?”
“I’ll do my best,” he promises. “But you have to know that you’ve ripped out my soul. I’m not sure that it’s possible for me to even pretend to be happy anymore. But I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, and we continue to dance.
Logan eventually freaks out after he decides that dancing in the rain is bad for my health, so he scoops me up. The other two pieces of my heart are awake now, nursing cups of coffee with identical hungover looks on their faces.
Quaid looks like he’s going to cry when he sees me, while Carter just looks resigned.
“Will you take a bath with me?” I ask Quaid, and he somberly stands up.
We walk hand in hand to the bathroom, and he gets to work drawing the water. He pours in some of the bath salts that are in a jar by the tub, and then I step in, leaning forward so that he can get in behind me. He wraps his arms around me, and I lean back in his embrace. The hot water lets off a steam that shrouds the bathroom in a hazy cocoon.
“You know, my parents haven’t been to one of my games,” he suddenly says quietly. “In a ten-year career, they’ve never even asked to go. I sent my dad tickets to the Super Bowl, thinking that of any game I’ve ever played, that would be the one he went to.” He laughs bitterly as he grabs a sponge and puts soap on it, before beginning to wash me slowly. “He didn’t even send a text that said congratulations. I found out later that he and my mom had been on a yacht in Croatia that week. The housekeeper told me they hadn’t even opened the envelope I sent the tickets in.”
“Oh, Quaid,” I say softly.
He’s still worshipping me with his long, slow strokes as he moves the sponge across my body. There’s a faint throb of longing building inside of me, but that’s not what this moment’s about. It’s about comforting the boy that’s never failed to make me smile.
“I never really knew what it meant to be loved until you came into my life,” Quaid interrupts me with a shaky voice. “The people that surrounded me the last ten years, they don’t care about me. They care about what I can give them, what I can do for them. When I got hurt, not a single one of my so-called friends called me. And now I’ve got you back, the one person who’s ever really cared about me, and you’re telling me that I’m going to lose you forever.”
His arms clench around me as hiccuping sobs burst out of him. I let him cry, softly stroking his arms as the pain exits his body in gasps.
“I’m not the only person who’s ever really cared about you,” I tell him finally.
“What?” he asks confused.
“My dad loved you. And I know that Carter and Logan love you. They’re your brothers, and that will never change.”
His sobs lessen as he thinks about what I’ve said.
“And you’ll always have me. I don’t think this trip we’ve taken has just been about my relationship with each one of you, it’s been about the relationship between all of us. I’d like to think that a love like ours will last forever, no matter how far away one of us goes.”
His arms clench around me more at the reminder of my death.
“I don’t think I can do this, say goodbye, I mean,” he whispers behind me.
“I know. I’ve been trying to figure out how I’m going to do it since I saw you under the light of the Eiffel Tower.”
The door crashes open, and Carter rushes in, holding my phone in his hand, a crazed look in his gaze as they lock onto me.
Logan follows him in, looking concerned.
“What does this mean? What does he mean, Valentina?!”
“What?” I ask as he continues to wave my phone around.
“A text came in while you were in here, and I happened to see it. The name Dr. Channing ring any bells for you?”
My stomach drops.
Dr. Channing has been messaging me since I left on my trip, trying to convince me to do the surgery. I stopped answering after the first dozen times I’d said no. I wasn’t sure at this point if it was worth it to have a doctor who’s known me since my first treatment as a little girl. He was annoyingly persistent.
“Who’s Dr. Channing?” Logan asks.
Carter turns the phone around and starts to press some buttons, and suddenly, I’m regretting giving him my password.
“You shouldn’t be reading my texts,” I shout, but there’s no real heat in my voice. I’m just acting like this because I know what’s coming next.
And based on the desperation level in this room, it’s not going to be pretty.
“‘Valentina, please call me. They still have a spot reserved for you for the surgery. Please reconsider,’” Carter reads. “Two days ago. Valentina, miracles happen every day. Please give yourself a chance. Three days ago…” he continues to read text message after text message, almost all of which I’ve ignored. If he checked my call log and email, he would see a million more attempts there as well.
“What is he talking about, Valentina?” Quaid asks desperately.
I sigh, closing my eyes, moving out of Quaid’s embrace, and stepping out of the bathtub. It’s a testament to how much things have changed since my revelation that none of their gazes dip to my naked, soapy body.
I walk past Carter, but he grabs my arm, stopping me from taking another step.
“What does this mean?” he growls.
It’s a growl of someone who is grasping at air to fix something that can’t be changed.
“I’m going to get dressed and then we can talk about this,” I say firmly, trying to pull away from him. He grips me for a second longer, his hands trembling as they hold onto me like I’m his very lifeline.
“Carter,” Logan barks. Carter holds my gaze, and then he finally lets go, a promise in his eyes that says he won’t be letting that go.
Quaid gets out of the tub, unabashed about his nudity in front of the other two as he grabs a towel and wraps it around his taut waist. He strides past me without looking at me as he disappears in his room.
I sigh again… It seems to be my go-to the last few days, and I go to my room and get changed into a pair of comfy sweats.
I walk to the couch and sit down. This time, none of them sit down with me. They’re all standing around the room, their arms crossed in identical poses of expectancy.
“Dr. Channing is the doctor who’s handled my treatment. He was my doctor as a girl as well. He was just starting then, he’s really come a long way since,” I say with a false grin.
No one smiles back at me.
“What does he fucking mean in his texts? What is he telling you to try? What is there still time left for you to do?”