The Bottom Line (11 page)

After a long sigh, she finally gave in. “My chest hurts.”

“You’re having chest pains?”

“No. Not like that. Can we drop this?”

“When you’re in pain?” He gave his head a shake. “Honesty, Mal.”

“I’m having my breast reconstructed.” Her voice was hushed.

While she’d told him about her cancer and her chemo, she’d never once told him she was considering having more surgery. Then again, once she’d shared the story of her diagnosis, mastectomy, and recovery, he’d assumed the topic had been laid to rest.

Ben was at a loss. Not only didn’t he understand why her making plans to have her breast reconstructed would be causing her pain
now
, he wasn’t sure why she even thought she needed to have the procedure.

For all the weeks they’d been together, he’d never made a move to touch her chest. Their passion hadn’t dimmed. Far from it. Whenever they kissed, sparks flew. He hadn’t pushed her for more, not because he didn’t desire her. She’d wound him up so tight, there were a few times he’d returned from a date to take matters into his own hands so he didn’t implode. Or explode.

Soon.
At least that’s what he’d hoped.

Now he was afraid he’d pushed too hard. Why else would she be thinking about having surgery to repair her breast? She had to assume she needed to be “fixed” before they made love.

“Are you doing this for me?” Ben needed to know she wasn’t going to put herself through surgery to please him.

“No.”

“Seriously, Mallory. I don’t want you doing this for me.”

Her brown eyes grew stormy. “Why would you think I’d do it for you?”

There were plenty of reasons, none of which he wanted to voice. What if her feelings didn’t run as deep as his? No way he’d bare his mind to her. It was far too soon. Hell, he wasn’t even sure exactly
what
he felt for her.

He shrugged.

“You sound like my friends,” Mallory grumbled, popping open her seat belt. She was out of the SUV before he could figure out what she meant.

She waited on the stoop, although only the storm door was closed.

Amber stood just inside, shoving her arms into her jacket.

Ben reached around Mallory to pull the door open. “Go on in.”

She stepped inside. “Hi, Amber.”

Jerking up her zipper, Amber replied, “Hi.” She didn’t smile until Ben was inside. “Can we stop and get a drink for the road?”

“Um… Mal’s not feeling so hot, Amber.”

His daughter’s brown eyes fixed on Mallory. “You mean we’re not going?”

“She’s—”

“Fine,” Mallory insisted. “She’s fine and ready to go. I’ve been waiting to watch these girls since the Olympics.”

“I thought you said you were hurting.” Ben didn’t want to disappoint his daughter, but he wasn’t going to let Mallory go on this trip and exhaust herself, especially when the pain was so clearly written on her face.

Although he’d never told his daughter that Mallory was a cancer survivor, Amber must have seen the same thing he did. “It-it’s okay.” Concern laced her tone. “I mean… if you feel rotten… Chicago’s a long trip.”

“I’m okay, Amber,” Mallory said. “I had a migraine, but I’m better.” Her steady gaze dared him to contradict her.

Since he really didn’t want to disappoint Amber and because Mallory was insisting, he gave in. “Let’s roll.”

After he locked up, he came up behind Mallory before she crawled into the driver’s seat. He wasn’t sure what was happening that made her hurt, but it had to involve her left side being made ready for surgery. He wanted to make things easier for her. “Would you like me to drive?”

She glanced over her shoulder, nibbled on her lip for a moment, then nodded. She handed over the keys and walked to the other side of the car.

Ben adjusted the mirrors, loving being behind the wheel of her Escape. He fired up the engine, smiled at Mallory and then Amber. “Chicago, here we come.”

Gymnastics had been her favorite sport growing up, so at least Mallory found common ground with Amber. That alone made the trip worth the time, the cost—even the pain.

They talked quite a bit on the ride to Chicago about the changes in the sport since Mallory had taken lessons back in elementary school. Their conversation had been easy and pleasant. But once they arrived at the arena, she couldn’t enjoy the exhibition because her chest hurt so damned bad.

Ben kept a close eye on her, making her struggle to hide the agony as much as she could. Judging from his increasing frown, she wasn’t succeeding.

“Did you see that dismount?” Amber tugged on Mallory’s left arm.

Mallory hissed a breath, closing her eyes and trying to will the misery away. Amber had no idea she’d hurt her, and she didn’t want the poor kid feeling guilty.

She never should have come on the trip, not right after another skin stretch.

Amber’s eyes went wide. “Are you okay?”

Teeth tugging on her bottom lip, Mallory nodded. Since a tear leaked out of the corner of one eye, there was no way either Ben or Amber would believe her.

“Mal?” Ben put a hand on her back. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just… hurting.”

“What did I do?” Amber’s voice quavered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s not you,” Mallory insisted, not wanting Amber to blame herself.

“Really? I—I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Really, Amber.” She would have patted the girl’s hand if she hadn’t thought it would be condescending. “It’s not you at all. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” She groped for her purse. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

The pain was incessant. She had no choice but to take the Vicodin. Ibuprofen just couldn’t cut it, not for this kind of hurting. At least she’d had enough common sense to bring her meds along.

“Mal? What can I do?” Ben asked, his tone full of concern that touched her deeply.

“Nothing. Really. I’ll take something and be right back.”

She worked her way across the aisle, grateful several seats were empty. By the time she found a water fountain, the sharp pain had downgraded to an intense throbbing, but she was still going to take the Vicodin. She fished the prescription from her purse, fumbled with the childproof cap, and finally freed the pills. After she spilled two onto her palm, she threw them back into her throat and then drank a fair amount from the fountain.

Since the restroom was close, she made her way inside. At least there wasn’t a wait. When the event started, the disparity between the number of men and women attending became evident in the length of the line to get into a ladies’ room. Now she could thankfully breeze into one of the open stalls. After locking the door, she gingerly lifted her shirt and camisole, the one she wore since the tightness of a bra would only cause more pain.

The balloon used to stretch her skin gave the left side of her chest a shape for the first time since the mastectomy. It wasn’t as large as her breast had been, at least not yet. But there was something satisfying about seeing the bump that would be replaced by a saline implant soon.

If only it didn’t hurt so damn bad.

There was no nipple, but she had two choices to correct that—reconstruct it using tissue from her vulva or skin, or she could get a tattoo. She was leaning heavily toward the tattoo.

Had she stayed home, she might have eased some of the horrible ache with cold compresses and a good book. Knowing how important this was to Amber, there’d been no way she’d consider canceling. She’d pamper herself when she got home.

Mallory had almost fished her cell phone out of her pocket to call Jules before she remembered Jules was probably still in a sulk over their lunch squabble. Even though things were better, Mallory needed to clear the air and apologize. Not that she could blame any of her friends for their anger. After having time to think more about things, she knew she’d been taking them for granted.

They’d been there for her through all the bad times, and she’d brushed them aside for a new boyfriend. Had Juliana, Danielle, or Bethany done the same, Mallory would have scolded her and told her just how rude the behavior was. Guys might preach about “bros before hos,” but the Ladies Who Lunch were more than mere friends. They were sisters of the heart, and she’d ignored them as though they had no feelings or no stake in all she was facing—both with Ben and with her reconstructive surgery.

She grabbed her phone and sent Juliana a text.

I’m sorry, Jules.

The return message wasn’t long in coming.

Sure you are. That’s why you’re in Chicago with Mr. Rebound.

Juliana could hold a grudge for a century, probably her Irish heritage. Mallory wasn’t deterred. With the Vicodin slowly kicking in, she relaxed a little and tried again.

I really AM sorry. Lost myself for a while.

Just about ready to head back to her seat so Ben and Amber would stop worrying about her, she was slipping her phone back into her purse when Jules’s ringtone sounded—“Holding Out for a Hero.” Something they’d both promised to do in those days after her mastectomy. They’d used the endless time to talk about everything from ex-husbands to hunky movie stars to future guys who might enter their lives. Each had sworn she would settle for nothing but the perfect guy.

Had she found that man in Ben Carpenter?

It was too soon to tell, but the seeds had been planted and were already taking root.

Mallory answered her call. “Hey, Jules.”

“Did you find yourself again somewhere in Chicago?”

Mallory heaved a sigh. “Yeah. I really didn’t mean to push you away. Danielle or Bethany, either.”

“Look, we get it. You like the guy. But he’s just a boyfriend. Don’t change your whole life for him.”

“I didn’t mean to. It just… happened.”

“You’re still in pain,” Jules pronounced. “I can hear it in your voice.”

As if she could hide anything from her best friend. “The stretcher hurts so badly.”

“You had it done again?” Juliana asked.

“Yeah. Yesterday afternoon. Makes my whole chest ache.”

“I’m sorry, Mal. You should’ve stayed home.”

“I know,” Mallory admitted. “But I really wanted to get to know Amber, and Ben said she was dying to see this exhibition.”

“And?”

“She’s nice. Typical girl her age with good manners. We haven’t talked about much except gymnastics, though.”

“Just be yourself. Your students love you. She will, too.”

“Thanks, Jules. I needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome.” The silence stretched between them before Juliana said, “Be sure and text Danielle and Beth. They’re worried about you, too. Remember… we’re just looking out for you.”

“You’re worried? Thought you were all still peeved at me.”

“Always remember how close love and anger are,” Juliana replied. “We don’t want you to get hurt. Call me when you get home. We can talk about our Black Friday plans.”

“Love you, Jules.”

“Love you, too, Mal.”

* * *

“I don’t know what I did,” Amber insisted, her eyes filled with panic.

While Ben wasn’t sure exactly what was causing Mallory so much pain, he knew it had something to do with getting ready for breast reconstruction soon. He knew next to nothing about medicine, even less about women’s bodies. The only thing he was sure of was that Mallory was hurting, and he wanted that to stop. Immediately.

“I don’t think you did anything, Amber.”

“But I hurt her.”

He shook his head as he moved over a seat where Mallory had been, torn on how much he should explain to his daughter. Amber was a sensitive kid, always had been. Just introducing Mallory to her was a leap forward that showed how seriously he was taking this relationship.

He felt something for Mallory, something strong enough to make him bring her into his daughter’s life. Amber sure needed a female role model, but he’d never dated a woman he felt comfortable having around her. Most were only one or two dates, then they were history.

Mallory was different, had been from the moment he met her, especially from that first incredible kiss. She was smart. She was strong. She was a good person. He had no doubt she could be a stabilizing force in his daughter’s life, maybe even become the type of woman Amber needed to help her become a good person, too.

Even then, he was uncertain of whether to say anything about Mallory’s cancer. It was her story to tell, and she might not be ready to share it with people outside her inner circle. Jules had told him how Mallory had kept the diagnosis quiet and how closely she guarded her feelings. Maybe she didn’t want her boyfriend’s kid to know she’d survived such a harrowing struggle.

Amber would no doubt be affected by the news. Sure, Mallory was healthy now—at least, he thought so. She couldn’t go ahead with the breast reconstruction if she wasn’t done with her chemotherapy. She’d told him that much.

But only time would tell if she stayed in remission. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her, and he sure as hell didn’t want to put his daughter through another ordeal. Hurricane Theresa had done enough damage. What if Amber got attached to Mallory and then her cancer returned?

The thought he could lose Mallory now that he’d finally found her felt like a knife to the heart.

She’s well now. She is. She’s well now.

He kept repeating it like a mantra.

“Should I go check on her or something?” Amber glanced back to the exit Mallory had used.

He gave his head a shake. “If she doesn’t get back soon I’ll have you go after her.”

Although Amber’s attention shifted to the floor exercise area, she spoke to him. “You like her.”

“Yeah, I do. I already told you that.”

She shrugged. “Are you gonna marry her?”

“Whoa there, darlin’. Aren’t you getting the cart well ahead of the pony?”

His daughter only shrugged again.

“Look, Amber… I’m not ready to even think about a step like that. It’s too soon.”

“Then why’d you drag her along with us?”

“I didn’t drag her along. She’s the one who got the tickets when she found out you wanted to go. She’s trying to get off on the right foot with you.”

“That was nice. But you know stepmoms are s’posed to be horrible.” She plucked her soda from the cup holder and took a long swig, still staring at the girl in blue flip-flopping her way across the mat.

“Says who? Cinderella?”

“My friends all hate their stepmoms. They try to boss them around and always take their dads away all the time. Gets worse if they have kids.”

“So the stepsisters are evil too?”

She ignored his sarcasm. “A lot worse if their dads have kids with their stepmoms. The old kids get forgotten.”

After Theresa’s bullshit, it wasn’t any wonder Amber was full of concerns. Her mother had abandoned her. Now she feared her father would as well.

All he could do was give her a stable home and lots of love, and hope she learned that she could always count on him. “I’ve only been going out with her for two months, ladybug. We’re not getting married, and we’re sure not having our own kids.”

That gave him pause. Could a cancer survivor even have kids? Had she lost her fertility along with her breast? What kind of future was in store for her?

He had a lot to learn about Mallory’s condition.

“But you’re old. Old people get married quick and have babies before it’s too late.”

“Who you callin’ old, you young whippersnapper?” He used his best gruff elderly man voice. At least he made her smile. “How about I make you a promise?”

Her gaze found his. “What promise?”

“If I decide I want to get married again, I’ll talk to you before I propose.”

The pledge was easy to make. Ben’s life wasn’t entirely his own, hadn’t been from the moment he cradled his seven-pound, four-ounce daughter in his arms the day she was born. His heart had been hers for thirteen years. There was no way he’d start a new relationship with a woman, even someone as special as Mallory, if it meant Amber would be miserable.

Besides, he was probably worrying for no good reason. Mallory was a wonderful woman. She was a teacher. Handling kids was her specialty. She and Amber would get along just fine once they got to know each other.

“Really?” Amber stared at him, and he saw the concern written plainly on her face.

“Really.”

“And if you and Mallory have a baby? You’ll tell me?”

“We won’t be having a baby.”

“But if you do?”

“Then I’ll tell you before we even start trying. How’s that?”

She found a tentative smile. “That’s nice, Dad.”

He held up his pinkie. “Pinkie swear?”

With a smile, she hooked his pinkie with his. “Pinkie swear.”

“What are you swearing to?” Mallory asked as she took his empty seat.

“Nothing important,” Amber replied, directing her attention back to the floor. Her cheeks had tinted a vivid red.

Ben chuckled at his daughter’s embarrassment and then gave Mallory a quick appraisal. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Took something strong for the pain.” A yawn slipped out. “Makes me major sleepy, though. You’re gonna have to drive home. Sorry. I should have asked first.”

He took her hand in his and rested them in her lap as she settled back to watch the action. “I would have told you to take it if you hadn’t.” Unsure of how much she wanted to talk about, he asked a tentative question. “Is it the… um… surgery?”

She nodded but didn’t elaborate.

While he still wasn’t sure exactly why she’d be in pain now when the surgery was weeks away, he let it slide. They’d have time alone to talk soon.

Then he’d find out exactly what was going on.

* * *

Amber popped her seat belt and leaned forward between the seats. Her face glowed in the green lights from the dash. She stared at Mallory, who’d fallen asleep only moments after they started the trip home. “Are you sure she’s okay? I mean, she’s out.
Really
out.”

“She told me she took something stronger than Advil.”

“It really wasn’t me who hurt her?”

He shook his head.