Beneath It All (Beneath #1) (23 page)

“Can we go get my shot over with?” I asked while turning to set my feet down on the floor.

“Are you sure you want to go right now? Shouldn’t you move around the house a little bit first?”

“I want to go now and get it over with,” I said as I gingerly started to shuffle my feet toward the bathroom. There was no way I was going to attempt a shower, but I needed to brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on some deodorant. I looked at myself when I was done and was thankful that I had cut my hair so I didn’t have to contend with it even though it was sticking out in every direction.

When I stepped back into our room, Noah had my clothes laid out on the bed for me and asked if I wanted some help. I told him no, but when he saw me struggling to get my leg into the leg of my pants he stepped in immediately.

He pulled me into a hug after I was dressed. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.” He paused and I felt like he wanted to say something more profound but couldn’t. He gave me one more gentle squeeze and led me out of our bedroom.

*

Noah pulled up in front of the hospital, got out of the car, and walked around to open my door. As I stood, a young girl appeared with a wheelchair and asked if we needed help.

“Yes, thank you,” Noah said to the girl. “I’m going to go park in the ramp, can you wait for me in the lobby?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll wait with her until you arrive.” She smiled down at me before pushing me through the front doors. We found a nice place to sit by the front window and the heat of the sunshine felt amazing.

“Ma’am, can I get you anything while you wait? Coffee, tea, or some water?”

“Thank you, but no. I’m good right now,” I answered with the best smile I could muster up, but the look on her face told me that she was worried about me. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old, and I noticed the name Emma was on her name tag.

“Emma, I had my first chemo session yesterday, and I’m here for a shot to help boost my immune system. I’m feeling crummy, and that’s why I look this way. I’ve been told that I’ll be fine in a few days when it’s out of my system.”

She nodded her head, telling me she understood, but didn’t say any more.

“Hey,” Noah said as he jogged toward us. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Emma here was a great babysitter.” She smiled back at me this time, and I could tell that she felt a bit more at ease.

“I’m happy to show you to the infusion lab, if you’d like?” she asked looking at Noah, who had a soft smile on his face. It was nice to see that the simple kindness from a young girl could ease the stress of the last eighteen hours.

“That would be nice. Lead the way,” Noah said, holding his arm out and signaling her to go ahead.

When we arrived at the infusion lab desk, we were checked in and brought back to a small private room and told a nurse would be in shortly. There were two reclining treatment chairs, so we each sat down in silence and stared up at the ceiling.

“You okay?” I asked as I looked over at Noah.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t get much sleep last night, but I’m not going to complain. You had it far worse than me.”

“It definitely wasn’t my favorite way to spend a Friday night. Most times you have a lot of fun on a Friday night before you throw up, like it’s a package deal. There was nothing fun about last night.”

“You can say that again. Have you had any water since we left?”

“No, I left my bottle in the car,” I confessed as the nurse walked in the room studying my chart.

“Good afternoon. You must be Victoria?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Great, how are you feeling today?”

“Not the greatest. I spent most of the night throwing up until there was nothing left but bile.”

“Have you been drinking fluids to stay hydrated?” she inquired.

“I’ve been trying my best,” I answered sheepishly, because honestly, I was afraid to put anything in my mouth after the violence of last night. “I’m just so wiped out.” Tears started to well in my eyes, and Noah sat up on the edge of his chair and reached over to hold my hand.

“She has been having a hard time with drinking because her throat is so raw. I’ve given her crushed ice, and she has been sipping Gatorade and water through a straw. She has maybe had two cups of fluid today, and she hasn’t attempted food.”

“Okay. I’m concerned about dehydration,” she said as she stood up and stepped over to wash her hands at the sink in the room. “I’ll get your injection ready, and then I’m going to ask you to stay for at least one bag of fluids. I want to avoid further dehydration issues down the road, and you’re right on the cusp of potentially becoming dehydrated. I’m not willing to take that risk, and it will help you feel better.”

I nodded in agreement, feeling completely defeated. This whole experience had done nothing but beat me down mentally and physically. It felt like I was leaning over the edge of hell and the only thing that was keeping me from falling in was a fine thread that was starting to fray. It was only a matter of time until the thread broke and I would free fall.

I AM MIGHTY

I
t had been six days since my three-hour stay at the hospital for an IV bag of fluids and my shot. I was feeling bit better and had begun to eat a little bit here and there. Gatorade was my friend. I froze it into ice cubes to suck on and also found out that I loved frozen banana slices and frozen grapes. Anything frozen was my preference.

Curling up with a book with “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5 quietly playing in the background finally gave me some peace.

I heard the click of a key in the door, and Noah made his way inside not so quietly. I felt a shift in my relaxed state and grew anxious.

“Did you have dinner yet?” he slurred, sauntering past me and into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I had some of my mom’s chicken noodle soup. She had Dad bring over a few containers of it. I guess she wants to make eating easy for me.” I laughed before I noticed he was standing in the kitchen, pounding the glass of water with his eyes closed. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better. We went out to dinner with a few clients, and I had a few too many cocktails. I’m not used to drinking like that anymore, and I don’t know how I lost track of the number of drinks I had. I think I need to head up to bed if you’re doing okay.”

He looked pitiful as he tried to seem concerned about me. He was most definitely drunk. “Did you drive yourself home?”

“No. I got a ride. I’ll sort out how to get my car tomorrow.”

“Good. Go up to bed . . . I’ll be up shortly.” I eyed him as he started pulling at his tie while trying to make his way toward the stairs.

He was struggling, and I heard him cuss when he couldn’t get the knot out of his tie. “God dammit.”

Noah hadn’t been drunk in years; he always seemed to stay in control when it came to business dinners. There was no way this night was going to be kind to him. Unlike my situation, in which I did not have the choice of making myself sick or not, he had chosen to drink too much, and chances were high that he would be throwing up tonight. In fact, I’d bet on it.

Men were dumb, and my husband was at the top of the heap tonight.

*

Something startled me awake. I looked over at the clock and noticed it was just after eleven. I turned off all of the lights, made sure the door was locked, and made my way upstairs.

The bathroom light was on but the door was only partially closed, casting a shadow over the room. I saw Noah sprawled out on the bed in his boxers; he was moving around a bit and babbling unintelligible words as I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and put on my pajamas. Turning off the bathroom light, I tiptoed to the bed and climbed in.

Lately, I’d been having a hard time falling asleep; my brain seemed to be on a constant buzz. It was doing some serious mind traveling while my body needed to sleep.

I counted backward from one hundred
. Fail.
Still awake. I went through each letter of the alphabet, thinking of something I was grateful for that started with each letter. Still awake.

I felt the bed shift as Noah cuddled next to me, throwing his leg up over my body. He let out a sigh of contentment and started to softly snore. Sleep was a lost cause now.

My mind travel continued, and Noah started getting fidgety again.
Wait. What’s that?
I paused my train of thought and focused. He was starting to grow hard against my hip.

Did grown men still have wet dreams?
I wondered as he started thrusting against me, getting harder with each stroke against my hip. I wasn’t sure what to do.

Should I wake him? Should I give him a hand?
He sped up and started mumbling again. His grip tightened around me, and his breathing was erratic. I could tell he was close to release and lay as still as possible to not surprise him.

“Stacey!” he shouted as he startled himself awake while coming against my hip.

His frantic eyes looked around the room and settled on me. I stared back wide-eyed and speechless as my mouth hung open in shock.

“Oh shit. What the hell?” he questioned as he looked down at the mess he’d just made and dashed out of bed. I heard him curse again as he stumbled into the bathroom. He closed the door and started the shower.

What. The. Fuck,
I thought, as I lay with the warm, wet spot on my hip that felt more like a cold bucket of water. I knew people talked in their sleep and said random things. Most of the time, they don’t even remember talking.

Confusion and anger were at war in my brain now, and as much as I wanted to feel settled, I didn’t. I was conflicted with my feelings and wanted to cry.

How had her name even come up?
It’s not like we spent much time with her and her “sugar daddy” husband. He was one of Noah’s partners at the firm. Noah must have been at dinner with him, and she was a topic of conversation. That made complete sense.
Right? Yes.

“That’s the answer,” I mumbled to no one in particular, as I convinced myself that it was true. I got out of bed, careful not to get my side of the bed all wet and sticky, and went into the closet to put on a fresh pair of pajamas.

The feeling of being cheated on was real, but I knew it was only a dream. However, it didn’t make me feel any better. Anger had taken the forefront of my mind as I stepped back into the bedroom.

The bathroom door was still closed, but the water had stopped running. I looked over at the bed and decided to go back downstairs to make myself a cup of tea.

My head hurt from my brain racing at Mach speed, and my heart was still thundering as I sat down on the sofa. Escaping into a book usually did the trick to calm me down. I silently prayed that it would not fail me now.

It didn’t take long for my mind to get sucked into the story on the pages; my eyes began to get heavy and struggled to stay open. I gave in to the sleep that had been so elusive and didn’t move a muscle until the next morning when I smelled coffee and heard noise coming from the kitchen. Surprisingly the smell and taste of coffee was still okay in my chemo-induced world.

I quietly strolled into the kitchen and found Noah busy making pancakes, which were one of the things I figured out that I really liked eating this week. The secret was a little extra Watkins vanilla added to the batter.

“Good morning,” I whispered as I reached for a coffee cup in the cabinet.

“Good morning,” he turned away from what he was doing to look at me. “I’m so sorry about last night. I can’t believe I let myself drink like that. It was irresponsible, and I apologize.”

“It happens,” I answered as I poured my coffee and went to sit at the kitchen table instead of the breakfast bar. While I couldn’t be mad at him for what he said in his sleep, I felt betrayed. It hurt and I couldn’t talk with him about it right now, so I opened my book back to where, I assumed, I had left off before falling asleep the night before.

He continued to make breakfast in awkward silence. I wondered if he knew what he had said while he rubbed himself against me and came in his sleep, or perhaps he really did feel guilty about coming home drunk. I couldn’t tell, but I knew that something was off.