Beneath It All (Beneath #1) (15 page)

“Does that mean that my chances of beating this are slim?” I whispered, trying to process what she just said. The words “fewer options” was not sitting well with me.

“No, not at all,” she assured me. “While only fifteen to twenty percent of breast cancer in the United States is triple negative, it doesn’t mean that it’s untreatable; we just need to pursue other options for treatment. You’re extremely lucky that you found the tumor when you did, Victoria.” She paused for effect. “Triple negative is less likely to be found and tends to grow faster. It’s very aggressive, but since you caught it early and the surgical results were positive, there is no reason to believe that we are unable to treat it.”

Dr. Guthrie sounded like Charlie Brown’s school teacher. All I heard was a bunch of noise except for “grows faster” and “very aggressive.” The tears began to well in my eyes as I mentally chanted:
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
Dammit. It didn’t work.

“Sweetheart, it will be okay,” Noah reassured me as he reached out to take my hand in his. He carefully raised it to his lips and kissed it softly. “Don’t let your thoughts run away on you right now. Dr. Guthrie just needed to explain all of the pathology results so that we better understand the treatment plan.”

I looked up into his eyes, searching for something, but I wasn’t sure what I was searching for. Noah’s eyes expressed that he believed in me, that he knew I was strong and he knew I would survive. It was the same look he gave me on the Skydeck. I turned back toward Dr. Guthrie. “So, you have a plan?”

“I do. What I’m proposing is a sixteen week cycle of three different drugs that will be given every other week—eight treatments total. The first eight weeks will be a combination of doxorubicin and cyclophosphamide, followed by paclitaxel. This combination and schedule will be aggressive, and I feel positive about the results.” She moved to grab a few brochures from the cabinet before continuing.

“Because your tumor was fewer than five centimeters and you had a mastectomy, you don’t need to undergo radiation, in my opinion. You’re just over two weeks out from surgery, and I would prefer to start treatment four to six weeks post-op so that your body is a little bit stronger. I’ll be sending the two of you home with some information on the type of treatment I’m suggesting. I would like you to discuss the options and come back next week with a decision. I’ll answer any questions and concerns you have at that time. You don’t have to decide anything today.”

I sat numb, trying to absorb the information that was just heaved at me. Words were being spoken, but I couldn’t understand them. Suddenly, Dr. Guthrie reached over to pat my hand before saying good-bye. The room was quiet, and I felt Noah’s hand tighten in mine as he tugged me up and out of my seat into his waiting arms. A soft hush left his lips as they grazed across my forehead. “It will be okay. We’ll talk about everything in a few days. Right now I want to get you home to rest and then tomorrow we’re going out. You’ve had enough doom and gloom, and, if you’re up for it, I would like to take you to dinner. What do you say?”

“That sounds nice” was all I could manage, and he understood I was still processing what was going on. He opened the door to the hallway and quickly led me out of the office and toward home.

I AM SPECIAL

N
oah was good on his word and took me to dinner and the theater. It was a nice distraction and got my mind off of the decision to move forward with chemo. I could refuse to do it if I wanted and felt that they removed all the cancer during surgery, but what if they didn’t? I was struggling with what to do because chemo would definitely change things.

We had walked from the restaurant to the theater holding hands and reminiscing about when we lived in our apartment with a yard. Back then, our dreams felt like they could really happen and we were free to do anything we wanted. Over time, we grew up, and somehow those dreams dropped off our radar as Noah built his clientele and I started my design firm. Maybe being diagnosed with breast cancer was a wake-up call for both of us—a warning that we couldn’t let our dreams disappear and that we needed to start following them again.

It didn’t take much for me to decide to take a leave from my design firm. I notified my clients of my medical leave and that I didn’t know when I would be returning to work at this point in time. I had contacted a few designers I had worked with on previous projects, and, thankfully, they were more than happy to take over my client load until I was ready to return . . . if I returned.

I spent the next few days in my office cleaning up my files and organizing design boards I had completed. The work was a nice distraction, but it didn’t stop my mind from spinning out of control about my appointment with Dr. Guthrie in two days.

The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. Looking at my caller ID, I saw Jen’s face pop up with a smile.

“Hello, pretty lady. Are you free for lunch? I’m in the area.”

“Are you buying?” I asked with bit of sarcasm in my voice.

“Of course! Did you think I wouldn’t? Get your mopey ass out of your chair and let me in—it’s fucking cold out here.”

“What?! You’re here already?” I made my way out of my office to the front of the building, and, sure enough, Jen was standing there with her face mashed up against the window, trying to make me laugh. She succeeded!

“Hey, sorry—you should have knocked.”

“I did. But you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry, I must not have heard you.”

“No shit. You were too busy with the voices in your head telling you what you should do, but then listening to what Noah’s wants instead.” She shook her head in dismay. “I know how you work.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever,” I said, shaking my head. “Let me finish up this file, and we can head out for lunch. Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking we could grab a quick sandwich at the Good Earth and do some window shopping at the Galleria. Remember, Christmas is in a few weeks.”

“I haven’t even thought about Christmas, let alone bought anything. I’ll be right back.” I walked back into my office and realized the file I had been working on was pretty much complete, so I just shut it and put it aside. My phone rang as I was reaching for my jacket and purse. I hollered out to Jen, “Hold on, I need to grab this.”

“No problem, you have plenty of magazines to keep me entertained.”

I smiled as I grabbed my phone. “Victoria Madison Designs.”

A deep, charming voice spoke up. “Victoria Madison, please.”

“This is Victoria. How may I help you?”

There was a slight pause. “This is Dr. Forrester. I heard you were back in the office, and I wanted to check in to see how you were doing. I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“Oh. Hi,” I responded, surprised that he was calling me instead of his nurse, Elizabeth. “I’m doing well. I suppose you’re calling to find out if I have a plan for reconstruction. Sorry for the delay. I’m still trying to determine my chemotherapy schedule and didn’t think to call your office.”

“No, no. No rush at all. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay since you hadn’t scheduled your six-week post-op appointment with Elizabeth after your last visit.”

“I totally forgot. I’m trying to clean out my office, with my medical leave, and there is too much on my plate.”

“That’s okay. I was just concerned about you and wanted to make sure you were doing okay with everything.”

I could feel the blush rising on my face for some odd reason. “I’m good, really. I’m just heading out to lunch with a friend. I’ll be sure to call Elizabeth when I return to set up that appointment.”

“I’ll let her know you’ll call later this afternoon. I’m glad you’re doing well.” He paused again like he had more to say, but he didn’t expand. “Well, anyway, have a nice lunch, Victoria. Bye.”

After he hung up, I stood there holding my phone and feeling a bit confused by Dr. Forrester’s phone call. He seemed genuinely concerned, but it felt like I was missing something.

Tucking my phone into my purse, I walked out to the lobby to find Jen totally engrossed in
Architectural Digest
. My curiosity took over when I noticed she was holding it upside down. She quickly put it down, trying not to look guilty of something when she heard me approach. “Ready to go?”

“Yep, ready!” I glared at her suspiciously. She turned her back on me and proceeded out the door.

After a quick lunch at the Good Earth, we decided to walk around the Galleria, an upscale shopping mall. “So, how are things going with your treatment plan? I know you’re stressing about it and that you and Noah are having the big talk tonight.”

We continued walking like this was a normal conversation to be having while window shopping. “Yeah, we are going to discuss everything tonight. I would skip doing treatment altogether because I feel like they removed all of the cancer during surgery, but the triple negative results have me concerned.” The images in one of the store displays of a young couple playing in the snow grabbed my attention and I stopped to look at it. “This type of cancer is more aggressive, and I would feel like I was giving up if I didn’t at least try to do something to help my chances.”

“You aren’t giving up. That’s ridiculous.” Jen pulled me away from the window and over to a bench. “Sit!” she commanded. “We have been friends since before either of us lost our virginity. We’ve supported each other through break-ups and make-ups. If there is one thing I know, it’s that you have never been one to give up. You don’t like confrontation and you have a deep driving passion for what is right. You’re fierce, and let’s be honest . . . you aren’t going to let this take you down. That is
not
your style.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that.” I had done a good job of keeping my tears away during her little speech, but I knew they weren’t far away. “I know what I need to know, but I’m worried about the impact it will have on Noah and our relationship. He has seemed so stressed lately, and I know it’s because of me. I don’t want to be a burden on him, and I know that there is a good chance chemo will kick my ass and it isn’t fair for him to be my caregiver.”

“Wait a minute! What the hell?” Jen cursed under her breath. “Let me get this straight—you’re worried about being a burden on Noah?”

“Yes.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Dammit, woman, you have breast cancer and are fighting for your life and you’re worried about your husband, who agreed, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, to be there for you? That is just fucked up. You can’t be serious!”

“He just hasn’t been the same since surgery, and I feel like he thinks I’m diseased and unattractive. Don’t get me wrong—he is still caring and loving with his words, but I can tell that he is avoiding me physically, and we both know that isn’t normal for him. He comes home and either goes right into the office or to bed, saying he is busy or tired from working extra hours. It’s almost like a woman making the excuse of having her period or a migraine to get out of having sex.” I sighed heavily, finally able to verbalize my insecurities.

“I can understand your feeling that way, but did you ever stop to think that maybe he is afraid to touch you because he doesn’t want to hurt you? I know it’s hard to see his viewpoint, and I can’t believe I’m taking his side on this, but what your body has gone through in the last few weeks is kind of a big deal. You still walk around like the Hunchback of Notre Dame protecting your chest and you don’t even realize it.”

What?
I looked down and noticed how my shoulders were curved forward and my chest tucked in, as if I were protecting it. I quickly relaxed my shoulders and tried to stick my chest out, only there was nothing to stick out. Just a flat chest hidden under my jacket. A lone tear made its way down my cheek, and Jen brushed it away.

“Victoria, I know you’re hurt and feel alone. It’s okay to hurt, but you need to realize that you’re not alone. I’m here for you, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, just not legally. I know you don’t swing that way . . . but I’m here!”

I couldn’t contain the snort that came out. “I don’t swing that way, huh?! How is it that my friends find the most inopportune times to make sarcastic comments that make holding back a laugh virtually impossible?”

“It’s part of my charm. What can I say? I love to make you snort.”

“I say you owe me a piece of Godiva chocolate cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory now!”

“Deal—if you put those damn tears away and let me be here for you. I want to sit with you during chemo to make you laugh, and I want to go with you to see your Dr. McHottie plastic surgeon who personally called you today.”

Gasp!
“You heard my call? You sneaky bitch!” I snickered, not able to conceal the smile on my face. “And to think I wasn’t going to bust you for looking so engrossed in reading
Architectural Digest
 . . . upside down.”

“Shut it—let’s go stuff our faces with cheesecake.” She stood and started walking away from me.

We passed Tiffany & Co. as we were making our way to the parking lot. Jen quickly detoured into the store. We ogled at the diamond rings that cost more than I’d ever make in my lifetime before we found our way back to the cases that were within our budgets.

Immediately my eyes were drawn to a delicate double heart tag pendant. It had the classic Tiffany’s inscribed sterling heart as well as a pink enamel heart behind it on a silver chain. Jen instantly caught the attention of one of the sales associates and requested to see it.

She clasped it around my neck, and I looked in the mirror. Understated elegance best described it. There was so much meaning in this classic yet simple necklace. Hearts are the symbol of love, pink is the color of breast cancer, and two hearts symbolized that I wasn’t alone. It was perfect!

“We’ll take it.” Jen presented her credit card to the associate. “Make it two—I’ll take one as well.” She winked at the guy and he smiled before disappearing to process her payment.

She turned to me before I could argue and covered my mouth. “Think of it as an upgrade from the best friend hearts we had as kids, only now they aren’t broken in half and they won’t turn our skin green. They are two perfect hearts, one for you and one for me!”