I’m stressed about this book. I just—I need to finish it and put it behind me.”
“Understandable.” His eyes searched mine. “Why don’t you chew and talk, and I’ll type out what you want me to type out?”
“Yeah, that’s good.” I took another bite and flinched when he leaned over and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “Crumb?”
“No, I just needed an excuse to touch your mouth.” He grinned. “Yeah, there was a crumb.”
I liked the first answer better.
It was going to be a long day.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
KEATON
“What do you mean the treatment isn’t working?” I asked the doctor for the third time, even though I understood the words he was saying to me. I couldn’t seem to let them sink into my consciousness.
Not working.
By themselves, they’re boring words, hardly worth noticing.
But when a doctor says them to you.
About someone you love.
They suddenly have the power to strip every single ounce of energy and strength in your body and replace it with fear and disbelief.
Dr. Mark was in his midseventies and was one of the best oncologists in the tri-state area. If he said it wasn’t working.
It wasn’t freaking working.
Next to me, Noah didn’t even tense. Already he was starting to lose his hair. The treatment was extremely aggressive. We were prepared for the worst, the worst being having to stay in the hospital longer than we originally planned. They needed him hooked up every six hours, so it just made sense to stay.
I made his bed my own.
We read a lot.
And binge-watched TV like it was our job.
Dr. Mark ran a hand through his gray hair and gave Noah a look I didn’t recognize, one that had Noah squeezing my hand like I was the one that needed comfort.
“The hospital received a generous donation a few months ago. We were able to open up one of the old hospital wings and let family stay there. There’s a kitchen near the old nurses’ station, snacks, food, and each room has a bed in it that’s better than the one Noah’s in now. It might make things more comfortable while we decide what to do next.”
I exhaled. “Actually, that would be great. I’m sure Noah’s tired of this room.”
“Preach,” Noah joked with a rasp in his voice. “No offense, but this room sucks. I would do anything for a bigger TV and a bed that had pillows that weren’t flat.”
Dr. Mark grinned. “Yes, well, the donation was large enough that the donor even hired an interior designer. He felt new decor would help cheer up the patients, along with the family members staying here.”
“Huh, remind me to tell him thank you,” I teased, reaching for Noah’s hand.
“He’s here.” Dr. Mark shrugged. “Somewhere, I think visiting his mother. I’ll relay the message.”
I barely heard what he said because Noah was looking at me like we were going to be okay. Like this was just another unplanned stumble before we hit the finish line and rang the bell cancer-free!
It was going to be fine.
His look told me so.
But I would look back on that moment, I would replay it over and over in my head, until I was sick with it because Noah wasn’t squeezing my hand to tell me everything was going to be okay.
He was squeezing my hand so I knew . . . that he was okay with dying.
Two weeks later, he drew his last breath.
But those two weeks were some of the best of my life, all because some rich person who didn’t know us made the hospital into a home.
It gave us normalcy we didn’t realize we needed.
It gave us the privacy we craved.
And that night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face while Noah held me, fully believing everything was going to be fine because we were in a normal bed.
I was wrong.
I stopped talking.
Julian stared at the computer screen, his face completely white.
“Sorry.” My voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to talk that long. It all just kind of . . . came out.”
“It was perfect.” He still wasn’t looking at me.
“Julian?”
“I didn’t know.”
“What?”
“More than a year ago, the accounting firm I work with told me I had an excess of money I could donate or contribute . . . I chose the hospital because it would make me look good. I donated five million dollars because it would land me in the papers, because it was good business. Don’t you see? I can’t think about it without wondering how fucking selfish a person could be.