pull her into me. She relaxes against me for a minute, pressing her face into my chest. I lower my head and press my lips against her ear.
“It’ll be okay,” I whisper roughly, but it’s the most inadequate and useless thing I’ve ever said to her.
The morning passes in a haze of unreality. We get through our usual routine and drop the kids off at school. I don’t have classes on Friday mornings, but I call the university to let them know I won’t be at my office.
We drive to Forest Grove. The sky is a robin’s-egg blue, the sun acting like it’s just another ordinary day.
Even though it’s anything but.
I stop at a red light.
“Dean.”
“Right here.”
“What if it’s not nothing?”
I look at my wife. She’s gazing out the window, her profile reflected against the glass. Everything inside me tenses with the need to tell her not to think about that because no fucking way can something evil grow inside her.
Not her. Not Liv. It would be a massive cosmic fuck-up if this turned out to be something.
“We’re not going to think about that right now,” I say—again, so goddamned useless. “Or try not to.”
We can’t.
“But—”
“Liv, baby.” I swallow past the tightness in my throat as I turn toward the hospital. “If it’s not nothing, we’ll deal with it together. But we need to take this one step at a time.”
Needless to say, tension thickens the air as we walk to the radiology department. The radiologist explains the what, where, and why of the procedure—and the why is the part that scares me the most.
Because the lump in Liv’s breast is “suspicious.”
“It’s important for you to know that about eighty percent of breast lumps are benign,” the radiologist explains. “So keep that in mind.”
Liv glances at me. Neither one of us knows if that’s supposed to be a reassuring statistic. Because that means twenty percent of results are not benign.
I want to be with Liv while she’s getting the biopsy done, but because of “procedure,” I’m told to return to the waiting room. Before she goes in, I pull her into my arms.
“I love you like salt loves pepper,” I say.
She gives me a faint smile. “That’s why we’re so good and spicy together.”
She kisses my cheek and goes into the exam room. I return to the reception area to wait, twisting a loop of string around my fingers and trying not to think of what my wife is enduring alone.
Chapter 9
Dean
The weekend stretches in front of us like a desert. There’s a persistent knot in my chest. A purplish black bruise stains Liv’s breast around the site of the needle puncture. I hate the sight of it—the ugly evidence of diagnostic testing and pain. I’m worried that if I hug her too close, I’ll hurt her.
“Should we tell anyone?” Liv asks me on Sunday night, after we’ve gotten through a determinedly busy weekend of taking the kids to karate classes, swimming, an impromptu movie and dinner out, and a lot of time spent at Wizard’s Park.
“It’s your call,” I say. “Do you want Kelsey or Allie to know?”
“Kelsey’s not even home,” Liv says. “She and a few of her students drove down to Colorado for a conference. I think she said she’d be back later this week.”
“Allie?”
“No. There’s no sense worrying other people right now.”
She moves closer to me. I extend my arms and pull her against my chest.
“Still hurting?” I ask.
“No, it’s fine. Just a little sore.” Her body heaves with a shuddering sigh. “God, Dean. A week ago, I—”
“Yeah.” I press my lips against her forehead. “I know.”
Monday morning dawns with a strange combination of dread and hope. Liv, not wanting to sit around waiting for the phone to ring, takes Bella to preschool and goes to the café. I leave Nicholas at school and head to campus. If we get the results today, it likely won’t be until later this afternoon.
The familiar bustle of the university is comforting. There are no black clouds threatening the horizon. In fact, the weather is almost strangely warm for mid-November, the sun heating the air enough that people are shedding their coats. I spend the morning talking to students, answering administrative emails, and preparing for my classes.
At eleven, I gather my notes for a seminar course and manage to focus for an hour and a half on discussing Sir Gawain and the Green Knight with my students. Afterward, I stop at the main office to check my department mailbox.
“Hi, Dean.”