Only In Dreams (Stubborn Love Series) (25 page)

I zip up the last bag and make my way into the main living area. Henry is napping in an oversized leather chair in the corner, the fireplace flickers and pops in front of him. I cross the room and sit on the arm of the chair next to him, staring into the orange dancing flames.

Without warning, I feel his arms wrap around my waist and pull me onto the chair with him. I grab onto the edge, trying to steady myself, and prevent the full force of my body weight from resting on his slender frame.

“I’ve got you,” he says reassuringly.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I explain.

“I said I’ve got you.” With a deep breath, I release my grip and fall back onto his lap.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I say.

“That was my plan.”

“Is that right? You pretended to be asleep on the off-chance I would come over here and sit next to you?”

Henry snickers. “No, I pretended to be asleep so you would pack all the bags.”

“Henry!” I exclaim, a huge smile spreading across my face. He pulls me in, close against his body, and kisses my neck. I sigh as the warmth of the fire surrounds us both. The moment couldn’t be any more perfect.

“I love you,” he whispers softly.

Pulling away, I look into his eyes, and before I even think about it, I suggest, “Let’s stay here.”

“What?” he asks obviously surprised.

I surprise even myself with the statement. Though I had the thought earlier, it never crossed my mind we could actually stay. But here, in this moment, I see no reason why we can’t. “What if we stayed? I mean, I know Manhattan is our home, and I’m not saying we would never go back, but this place it’s—”

“Magical.”

“You feel it, too.”

“I thought you wanted me to go through with the treatment?” Henry asks, confused.

“I do,” I quickly add. “But why can’t you go through the chemotherapy at a facility here? And then once the tumor shrinks, and you’re ready for surgery, we can head back to New York.”

Henry thinks about my proposition for a moment. “I suppose I can call Dr. Abbott and ask his opinion.”

“Yes, there, that sounds like a brilliant idea,” I agree, and my heart begins to race with excitement and anticipation.

“Winter in the Hamptons is absolutely incredible,“ he continues, naming off all of the positives he can think about with this plan. “And I’ll really get some quality rest here. We can also have that chef we’ve been using come in and cook for—”

“Hey, wait, slow down, I think I can cook a few meals for my husband,” I interject.

“Oh … well, I mean, I guess, if you really want to.”

I laugh, pushing my shoulder into his. “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.”

“No, but I wouldn’t exactly call you that good of a cook either.”

“Too bad, our vows said for better or worse, and I do believe the worse part includes enduring my terrible cooking,” I inform him, smiling gleefully.

“All right, if I must,” he relents in a humorous tone. A silence falls over us, lingering for a moment. “There’s something else I want to talk about with you.”

He sounds so serious all of the sudden, I feel a flash of anxiety fill my chest. “What is it?”

“I don’t want you to get angry with me.”

“What on Earth could I ever get angry with you about?” I ask, now nervous.

“I’m serious. I want you to hear me out,” Henry urges.

I sit upright, shifting my weight back to the arm of the chair. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“I don’t mean to scare you, but we need to talk.”

“So talk,” I reply pointedly.

Henry sighs; he looks to the fire as if he were searching the colors for the right words.

“What’s going on?” I demand.

His gaze shifts back to mine, as he takes my hand into his. “Paige, I love you more than anything in this world. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“I love you, too,” I add hesitantly. “Is this a bad thing?”

“No, I know you love me, and that’s why this is so important for me to say,” he begins again. “I want you to know that I’m going to fight this the best I can, and I promise, I won’t quit until I have nothing left in me.”

“You’re going to beat this, Henry. We’re going to beat this.”

“Please, just let me get through this. I love you, and I am so happy that I get to wake up every morning for the rest of my life to your beautiful smile and terrible cooking. I want nothing more than to sit next to you when we’re old and gray, in our rocking chairs, and watch the waves crash against the shore. But no matter how hard I fight, there’s still a strong chance I’m not going to make it through this.“

“Don’t say that!”

He sighs and squeezes my hand tighter. “One of the few things that makes me really sad is the thought of you being alone if I don’t make it.”

“Stop it! You’re going to be fine.”

“Paige, please, this is important to me. If something does happen to me, and I don’t make it, I want you to promise me something.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” I insist, then start to stand up, trying to pull away.

Henry tightens his grip, pulling me into him. “You need to let me say this. I can’t bear the thought of you never allowing yourself to love again. If something happens to me, I want you to be open to being happy again. Promise me.”

“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head.

Henry huffs, and I can see he’s tired.

“We haven’t even been married for a week, and you’re talking about me finding someone else. You do realize how fucked up that is, don’t you?”

“This entire situation is fucked up. Should I wait until I’m sicker, until this conversation might be too hard for me to have? I know you, and I know how you’ll be if things don’t work out. You’ll retreat into yourself, never opening up to anyone ever again.”

“What happened to a positive attitude? You said the doctors told you that is important. It’s like you’ve already given up,” I argue.

“No, I haven’t, and if you’ll just promise me that you’ll move on when I’m gone, then I won’t have to think about it anymore, and I can refocus all my thoughts on more positive things.”

“I don’t want anyone else, that’s why I married you.”

“I get that, but you might not have that option, and the idea of you spending the rest of your life alone out of some sick loyalty to me, or because you’re scared of getting hurt again, makes my heart literally ache.” His voice is starting to crack, and I can see how much the conversation is taking a toll on him.

I look down at my hands, fidgeting with my fingers and twisting my wedding ring in circles. I don’t want him to worry about me. I want him to put all of his energy into getting well. I glance up; his eyes are already watching me. I take a deep breath, and with a slight nod, I say, “I promise.”

Henry pushes himself out of the chair, wrapping his arms around me, and my head presses against his chest. “Then let’s call Dr. Abbott and see if I can get my treatments moved.”

I STARE AT the words in the letter, struggling with pinpointing exactly how they make me feel. We were so excited to hear that Henry seems to be getting better. The two of you are always in my thoughts. As soon as Henry’s feeling up to it, Colin and I would love to have you two come down for a visit. Colin keeps joking about the forever-long honeymoon you two seem to be on, but I swear, I haven’t said anything about Henry’s condition, though I hope you will soon.

I’ve now been Mrs. Henry Wallace for over two months. In that time I’ve taken my husband to more chemo appointments than I care to count and watched as his body shift into one I barely recognize. He has become lethargic, sleeping most of our days away. He’s always nauseous and has wasted away even more over time, his body appearing bruised, as if it is being used as a punching bag. And if all of these things aren’t bad enough, he also gets to deal with the loss of his hair. I’ve been by him through all of these things, careful to never come unraveled or project any of my concern onto him. But it does seem he is now finally showing improvement, and we have the opportunity to come out of our seclusion. It infuriates me that one thought continues to plague me—Christian.

I want to see Emmie and Colin more than anything, to spend time with Olivia, but going to Texas means I’ll have to see him. I can’t figure out if my concern is that he will reveal my indiscretions to Henry, or if it’s simply the lingering guilt still haunts me. No matter the cause, the cloud is hanging over me, and even if we might be able to visit my Emmie eventually, I cannot think about that right now.

“Is that a letter?” I hear Henry’s voice over my shoulder.

Quickly folding up the page and sliding it between the couch cushions, I turn and smile at him. “Oh yeah, it’s just Emmie. Lots of Olivia stories, you know how she is. How are you feeling?”

“Actually,” he says, pausing for a moment. “I feel great.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s hard to believe we’re heading into the city already to see Dr. Abbott.”

I stand and walk over, slipping my arm around his slender body, his bulky sweater slightly masking the change in his appearance. “I have a really good feeling about this,” I announce.

“Me too,” he adds and then pulls me in close, placing a tender kiss on my forehead.

“I can’t believe he wouldn’t give you some hint as to how the brain scan came out,” I complain, picking up the last suitcase at our feet, and carrying it to the front door.

“He’s a doctor, that’s how they’re supposed to act. I think they just want to be able to explain all the big words in person.” I laugh at his comment, then slip the keys off the entry table and into my hand.

“How about I drive?” Henry offers.

I look at him with raised eyebrows. “Yeah, I don’t think so. You might be feeling much better, but you still can’t sit in a car for more than ten minutes without falling asleep.”

“Yes I can … I can last at least fifteen minutes,” he insists.

“Exactly, now get your cute little ass in the car so we’re not late. We have a two hour drive ahead of us.”

“You know, I find this bossy side of you very sexy,” Henry remarks playfully, leaning over to give me a kiss as he walks by.

I take a deep breath, preparing to leave the life we’ve made here in the Hamptons and take in whatever news the doctors have for us. I know there is a very good chance in a matter of days Henry could be heading in for surgery, and while it’s terrifying, I also know it’s the best news we could possibly receive.

I watch Henry as he walks down to the car. Everything has seemed to change over the past couple months. His face is now so slender most people can tell something is wrong with him. He walks with an arched back, as though he’s trying to curl into himself as he moves.

Sometimes I tiptoe down the beach jut to get a good cry out, determined to never let Henry see me come unhinged. A good purge every week has seemed to do the trick. But here we are, about to find out the news that could be the salvation for both of us. I lock the front door then stop on the steps, taking in a deep breath and smelling salt in the air. It’s time, no more waiting.

HENRY SCOOPS MY hand up into his, causing me to stop picking at my cuticles. It is a habit I’ve picked up in recent months from all of the long waits in doctors’ offices. “Sorry,” I mutter.

“Don’t be nervous, everything’s going to be fine,” he reassures me. Henry always leaves me wondering where he gets his strength. Let someone cut me off in a parking lot, and I have no issues finding the courage to put the fear of God into them, but something like facing your own mortality, and I know I would be a complete basket case.

“I’m not nervous,” I insist. “I just don’t understand why they make you wait in a waiting room, only to bring you into the doctor’s office and make you wait some more. I mean, isn’t that the entire point of the waiting room.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“You’re too nice. It’s not like we’re waiting for our takeout order. We’re waiting to find out about a fucking—” The word trails off my lips as I hear the door open behind us.

“Henry, Paige, welcome. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Dr. Abbott says as he crosses the room, pausing to shake our hands.