Afternoon Delight - By Mia Zachary Page 0,56

piece of dry toast this morning. Acid churned in her stomach while she tried to prepare herself for whatever the X-ray films might show. Apprehension shot through her like bolts of lightning, striking her temples, neck and lower back.

She’d been so lucky last year. What were the chances that her luck would hold?

“Ms. Davis?”

The nurse stood before her and it took all Rei’s willpower to look up from the woman’s white sneakered feet to see her face. Her smiling face.

“Ms. Davis, the films came back clear. We’ll send the results to Dr. Solís, but everything looks good. You’re free to go home anytime.”

P.J. wrapped her in a huge hug and squealed. “Oh, I’m so relieved!”

Everything looked good. Rei closed her eyes and sagged against P.J.’s shoulder. Now that some of the weight was lifted, core-deep weariness set in. She had part of the answer she longed to hear. Everything looked good.

“I didn’t want you to know how worried I was, but I was.” P.J. squeezed her harder, then rubbed a hand over her back. “But now you’re okay for sure!”

Rei gently extricated herself from the embrace and shook her head. “The mammogram is negative. That means there’s no evidence the cancer has recurred in either of my breasts.”

“I know! This is great—”

“But I still have to wait for the blood test results.” She spoke quietly from relief, fatigue and continued concern.

P.J. cocked her head and frowned. “I don’t understand. You don’t have breast cancer anymore. Do you?”

Rei sighed and gave an uncertain shrug. “If the CA 27.29 antigen shows up again, it would mean the cancer came back somewhere else.”

PLEASE CALL ME

Sender has requested a read confirmation. Send confirmation of receipt? Yes No I have no idea what you’re going through, Rei, but you don’t have to go through it by yourself. I left you alone last night like you asked. But today I want to hear your voice and hold you in my arms and find out what your doctor said.

The other e-mails I sent didn’t seem to go through. Neither did my voice mails. Please call me when you get this message.

Chris

HE CLICKED the “send” button and minimized his e-mail program with an odd sense of finality.

He hadn’t heard from Rei at all, not even an electronic receipt that the e-mail had been opened. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt that she’d been too upset to get on her computer last night. But, as much as he worried about her, he couldn’t deny his resentment at being shut out. Again.

As her friend, he prayed that she was going to be all right. But, as her lover, they were finished. For each step he tried to take forward, she backpedaled three. He could still hear the message behind her last words to him. I don’t want you. I don’t need you.

Well, he didn’t need the emotional confusion. Not on top of the anger and betrayal he was dealing with this morning.

Chris yanked the ringing phone off the hook. It had been a long, sleepless night and his nerves were frayed, leaving him feeling exposed and irritated.

Reaching up with both hands, he massaged the base of his neck. This could very well go down as one of the worst days of his life. From the minute he’d walked into his office, he’d been fielding phone calls from clients canceling their services. If he thought for one minute he could get away with it, Grant Bronson would already be a homicide statistic.

The son of a bitch had used their college acquaintance as leverage for gaining Chris’s trust. He’d given Grant courtship counseling in good faith only to find out the bastard was a tabloid reporter working undercover. The story had run in the early edition of the Inquirer this morning and clients had been calling ever since.

He looked up at a knock on his office door. Lara stuck her head in, frown lines etched deeply into her forehead. “I’ve had six cancellations by phone, there are four people waiting in the lobby to talk to you in person and I haven’t even looked at my e-mails yet.”

“Okay, Lara. Find a temp agency and see if we can hire a receptionist to answer calls and take messages for the rest of the day. Hang on.” Chris paused as his phone rang. “Hello?”

“Yeah, this is Bob Dawson. How come you never gave me any special treatment?”

“Mr. Dawson, I’m sorry—”

“I didn’t get no private sessions and I didn’t find a