Beneath It All (Beneath #1) (30 page)

“You think he would do that?”

“Yeah, I’m positive. He thinks it will be good for her to spend time with their friends away from here. All of their friends are south for the winter, and she has nothing to do other than worry about me. Quite honestly, I don’t want her here now; she is going to suffocate me if she stays. Maybe ditching them wasn’t a good idea,” I said as I started to move to get up.

“Wait.” She stopped me by placing her hand on my shoulder. “We came here to talk. You need someone who understands you and is on your side with a level head right now. Lucky for you, I was in the house and heard everything, so you don’t need to repeat it. That is the last thing you need to do right now. And as shocking as this may sound, it’s me.” She gave a half smile. “Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t want pity from anyone; I have an abundance of it for myself right now. I don’t want to have to tell everyone what happened. I want people to keep going about their business like they have. I had planned for you and Bobbie Jo to go with me to a few chemo appointments when Noah was supposed to be traveling anyway. So that will stay the same. I can bring myself to my appointments with Dr. Forrester, since I won’t be all drugged up. I’ll need help when it comes time for surgery, but otherwise, I can do this.”

“Yes, you can. I knew you would find your inner strength.” She nudged my elbow with hers. “You’re going to have good days and bad days.” She stopped for a moment to consider her words. “We should get going. I need to stop at my house to pack a bag, and we need to pick up your things at your parents’. I’m moving in as your roommate while your parents are gone.”

“Jen, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. You don’t need to put your life on hold.”

“I’m not. I’m doing this for you so your parents will know you have someone there if you need it. They will see that you’re capable of doing this. I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to. It’ll be like old times.”

I was stunned by her offer. “You would really do that? You’d stay with me?”

“Hell yes!” She smiled. “We can relive our twenties, but you can experience them for the first time without having a gatekeeper in the way. It’s time to get your party on.”

“Slow down. My schedule is booked with doctors currently, plus I’m not much fun. My idea of a fun night is a bath and bed by nine. I’m not really in a party mood, and if I ever get there again, it will be after I’ve finished my cancer journey, when I look like a woman. Not when I’m bald and breastless.”

“Ha! I like that . . . ‘the bald and the breastless’. You’re like a fucking soap opera!” She giggled. “And what’s with the ‘cancer journey’ comment? Where did that come from all of a sudden?”

“Dr. Forrester said it to me today. He gave me some perspective that I needed to hear, and . . . I may have slipped up and told him that Noah left me today.” I uttered the last part under my breath.

“You did what?” she shrieked in disbelief.

“It slipped out. I don’t know how, but it just did. He had just told me that he lost his mom to breast cancer, and it felt so personal and I just blurted it out. I would have told him eventually, just not today.”

Talking about it with Jen made me regret what I did. Feeling like a complete idiot, I began berating myself in my head.
Could this day get any worse?

“What did he say? Did he seem uncomfortable?”

“No, he didn’t seem uncomfortable, and he was very understanding. But it felt a bit weird when I left. He handed me the card of his partner and asked me to schedule my next appointment with her. I felt like I had overstepped my bounds, but he explained that he wouldn’t be in the office that day and wanted me to stay on schedule with my appointments.”

“Well then, you have nothing to worry about. Let’s get this show on the road. It’s time to move back into your house and kick everyone out. I’ll bring the ice cream!” Jen said as she gathered the blanket from our laps and started toward the car.

I was a mess when we got home and needed some time to myself. Jen shooed me upstairs and instructed everyone to sit and wait. She wasn’t going to let them go paparazzi on me at this moment. After drawing me a bath, she told me to take my time and try to relax a bit.

A breakdown wasn’t in the cards; it would only make things worse.

When I finally appeared downstairs, there was no questioning the fact that Jen told everyone what went down with Noah. Not a single one of them asked me what happened, and I couldn’t have been more relieved.

After two more hours of appeasing everyone, we kicked them all out and sent my parents packing for Gulf Shores five days later.

*

It had been two weeks since Jen moved in with me.

My final Red Devil chemo treatment went well, and I rang in the New Year in a Marinol-induced stupor. It was magnificent. Four rounds of paclitaxel were left to complete before I was done with chemo, but putting the first phase behind me was a huge feat. I made it through . . . somehow.

The light at the end of the tunnel was coming into view, but I still had the reconstruction ahead of me. Not that I ever wanted to wish time away, but I was ready to move on and make this year a good one since the last year had burst into flames.

I had spent a few days avoiding the file folder Noah had left before finally opening it a week later. What he offered was generous, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I hadn’t heard from him since the day he walked out and didn’t expect to at this point. He’d moved on. Maybe I needed to do the same.
But how?

Today I was scheduled to meet Dr. McGuire for my third expander fill. I was anxious about meeting a new doctor. Jen agreed to take me again and said she would stay in the waiting area like last time.

When I broke down and admitted to her why I didn’t let her come back during my last appointment, she jumped down my throat and insisted on coming back for the insta-boob procedure. She was pissed that she wouldn’t get to meet Dr. McHottie after what Bobbie Jo must have said about him, but she’d get over it.

While we were waiting, we were discussing a few ideas. I had to update the house, also known as Operation “No More Noah,” when there was a soft tap on the door.

A tall and slender woman with dark brown, almost black, hair and sparkling blue eyes walked in. “Good afternoon, Victoria. I’m Dr. McGuire. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said with the most beautiful smile. She was stunning and married. The ring on her left finger probably cost more than my Mercedes SUV.

“And you are?” she said as she turned toward Jen with her hand outstretched.

“I’m Jen, one of her friends. She asked me to come back with her; I hope that isn’t a problem.”

“No, it’s nice to see friends supporting each other.” She sat down on the stool in the corner. “Dr. Forrester filled me in on your case, and I just want to review a few things with you before we start.”

“Sure. I’m fine with that,” I answered, wondering why we were reviewing my chart because as far as I knew, I would only be seeing her today and then go back to him.

She did the cliffs-notes review of my chart, from surgery through my last fill. She asked how I was doing physically with chemo and if I had any concerns with the plan Dr. Forrester had laid out. I didn’t have any questions, and honestly, now that Noah wasn’t a factor, I felt more at ease with everything. It didn’t feel like a race to get it done for anyone but myself.

During the insta-boob procedure, as Bobbie Jo had named it, Jen was laughing. “That was quite possibly every small-chested woman’s dream. To have your boobs grow in a matter of minutes. And by every small-chested woman . . . I mean me.”

Dr. McGuire started laughing too. “Well, if you ever want something done, I’m sure between myself and Dr. Forrester, we could make it happen, but sadly, it won’t be as easy as an injection.” She stepped back and nodded to me. “Go ahead and sit up, Victoria.”

I sat up slowly and admired my chest. To be truthful, my chest actually looked like a male body builders’ pectoral muscles: hard, round, and up too high. Frankly, they weren’t very attractive, but they belonged to me, and I was proud of them . . . for now.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. McGuire asked after she washed up. “Any dizziness or lightheaded feelings?”

“Not this time. I learned my lesson.”

“Well, I’m impressed! Not many women can handle one hundred cc’s at a time. It’s very rare.”

“I just want to get it done, and if I can handle the discomfort, I might as well,” I admitted. “So should I go ahead and schedule my next appointment for two weeks out with Dr. Forrester?”

“Yes, stay on the same schedule if you can handle it with chemo. You’re doing great. It was a pleasure working with you, and I hope to see you again.” She shook both my hand and Jen’s before leaving.

Jen went out to the waiting room while I stopped by the scheduling desk to make my next appointment.

“I’m sorry, but Dr. Forrester doesn’t have anything available that day. I can get you in with Dr. McGuire again if that would work? She has a few late afternoon openings.”

“Does Dr. Forrester have anything available the day before by chance?”

She checked and the answer was the same. “Nothing available that day either.”

“Thanks for checking.” I sighed. “I’ll go ahead and book the Friday appointment with Dr. McGuire in two weeks.”

I was disappointed with not being able to schedule with Dr. Forrester. Everything in my life was changing, and I worried that I had done something wrong. He probably didn’t want to make me uncomfortable by telling me he couldn’t see me as a patient anymore, so he just casually moved me over to Dr. McGuire.

I sulked as I walked out to the waiting room.

“Turn that frown upside-down, cupcake. What happened?”

“Nothing,” I said as the elevator doors shut. We rode down in silence, and it continued until we got into the confines of the car.

“What happened back there? You were fine when we walked out of the treatment room, and when you returned from scheduling your next appointment, you looked as though your puppy died. Spill it!”

“I wasn’t able to schedule my next appointment with Dr. Forrester; he was booked both Thursday and Friday.” I looked out the window and continued, “I feel like I overstepped doctor-patient boundaries, and he doesn’t want to make me feel bad by telling me he can’t be my doctor anymore.”

“That is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. This isn’t high school. He’s a highly sought after and successful plastic surgeon and his schedule was full. It’s not because of you. You don’t honestly think that . . . do you?”

I looked over at Jen, feeling like a pathetic mess. “Just take me home, please.”

She didn’t say another word and started driving toward home.

I AM INVINCIBLE

A
week later, I was preparing for my next chemo session and the introduction of a new regimen of drugs. I was told these appointments would be longer, but the side effects were much easier to contend with. It was a compromise.

The best news of all was that I would be able to discontinue the shot the day after chemo, which was a royal pain . . . everywhere! I was officially halfway through treatment, and I had to believe that things would start looking up again. They had to.

Dana was in town and volunteered to go with me today for my treatment. She hadn’t had the privilege of going with me yet and seemed a bit nervous. I knew this was outside of her comfort zone, so it meant the world to me that she was making the effort.

We got settled into the treatment room, and I opted for the bed today so Dana could have the comfy imposter recliner for our few hour stay. Once the drip was started, we broke into the snacks.

“So, how are things going?” Dana asked before shoving a handful of Old Dutch puff corn in her mouth.

“Each day is getting better. I can’t complain.” Well, I could, but I was tired of always whining. It was wearing me down.

“I’ve been getting bits and pieces from the girls while I’ve been traveling. Have you spoken to Noah again?”

Just the sound of his name made my skin crawl. “No. I haven’t seen or spoken with him, and I don’t plan to. My dad’s attorney is looking over the divorce papers Noah had written up. He thinks it’s actually a very good settlement and is suggesting that I accept it. He was rather astounded by what Noah was offering. I attribute it to guilt.”

“Guilt?” she questioned before shoving a pita chip in her mouth.

“Yes, we all agree that Noah feels guilty about leaving me in my ‘current condition,’ and that this is his way of making it okay . . . in his mind anyway. It’s completely fucked up, if you ask me.”

I still couldn’t believe this was my life. My marriage was a sham for the last year, especially the last several months. While I was busy climbing my way out of hell after each round of chemo, he was busy earning a first-class ticket to a VIP table there.

“Completely. So you’re done?”

“I am. He wasn’t willing to fight for us, so why should I bother? I’m hurt and I feel abandoned. If he doesn’t love me anymore—and he doesn’t—I’m not going to force him to try to work it out because he will only end up hating me more.” I took a sip of my Gatorade. “What disturbs me is how easily I have accepted it. I was so angry when we talked, but the last few weeks haven’t been that bad. He was always working, and when he was around, we were either having sex or he was in the study working. Is it wrong that I’m not fighting to save my marriage after so many years?”