Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
She shivered in my arms. “We’re going to kick breast cancer’s ass,” she confirmed, but hesitantly said, “And the baby? Are you okay with the baby?”
I pulled back with a wicked smile on my face. “I’m a doctor, honey. I know how babies are made.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me you did this on purpose?”
I shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
She punched me in the pec, right above my nipple.
I pulled back from her with a laugh.
“You didn’t answer. Are you happy?” She hesitated. “About the baby?”
My face sobered as I said, “I’m fucking ecstatic.”
CHAPTER 24
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Eat me now.
Too late.
-Avocados
CORELINE
I was pregnant.
And I had cancer.
Stage two, according to the oncologist that I was seeing.
He had my results on the screen beside his desk, and Tide was on his ass beside me, leaned forward, with his elbows rested on his knees, and his head rested on his fisted hands. His eyes were going over the scans, but he was also asking questions.
“What are her options?” Tide asked carefully.
The doctor looked at me and leaned back in his seat. “Radiation isn’t safe for the fetus. Since we can’t go that particular route, my next suggestion would be to have a mastectomy. I suggest that, instead of a lumpectomy, because you’re still in the first trimester. Hopefully, by taking this lump out, it would give you enough time to get you into the second trimester so that we can get you started on chemotherapy.”
I swallowed hard and looked over at the man beside me.
He was being very quiet.
Like he’d been since he’d found out about the diagnosis.
He didn’t know what to think.
And I didn’t blame him.
I didn’t know what to think either.
This all had been sprung on me so fast.
“And with your family history of breast cancer, and the reoccurrence in both your mother and your grandmother…” He paused. “I would highly, highly suggest having a double mastectomy, and not just a single one.”
I swallowed hard.
The thought of no breasts…
As if he’d read my thoughts, I felt Tide’s hand curl around my own and squeeze lightly, giving me his strength.
“We can get them fixed later.”
I could.
I could do that.
“And if I have this mastectomy… will it fix the problem?” I wondered. “Will I ever have to worry about cancer again?”
On and on the questions went.
By the time I was done asking them, my hand was numb from how tight Tide had started to hold mine in his own, and we had a plan.
The doctor would schedule my mastectomy for next week. When I hit the twelve-week mark on my pregnancy, then we would start chemotherapy. Only after I had delivered the baby would I worry about having breast reconstruction… if I ever had it.
Which, Tide seemed to think that I didn’t need to have.
I wasn’t so sure.
I mean, logically, I knew that he would still love me, no matter if I had breasts or not.
But as a woman… I wanted to be attractive to my man. I wanted him to look at me and feel his breath catch in his throat.
I wanted to walk down the aisle in my wedding dress, with my boobs on display.
Which was what I told him the moment we walked out of the hospital in regards to my plans for reconstructive breast surgery after the baby was born.
He looked at me like I was nuts. “You could wear a fuckin’ parka for all I care,” he told me. “As long as you agree to be mine, I don’t fuckin’ care what you wear.”
I swallowed hard and felt my heart beat a little faster in my chest. “Are you trying to say that the thought of marrying me doesn’t scare you to death?” I teased.
He looked at me then, pulling me to a complete stop right there in the middle of the busy hospital corridor.
“I would take you to Vegas right now if we didn’t have shit to do this weekend,” he grumbled.
‘Shit’ being labs, paperwork, and plans and steps for the removal of my breasts the following Monday.
It being Thursday, that definitely didn’t leave us much time at all to get to Vegas and back.
I felt tears clog my throat.
“I want breasts in my wedding photos,” I told him. “It’s happening.”
He grinned then. “You want breasts? I’ll give you breasts.”
The only thing is, I had no clue what he meant by that statement until I arrived at my own wedding twelve hours later, at eleven fifty-five in the evening, wearing a dress that did, indeed, show off my breasts.
CHAPTER 25
You want a wedding? I’ll give you a fucking wedding.
-Tide to Coreline
TIDE
It took eleven hours and ten minutes to plan my wedding.
It took me an hour to convince her to slip into the dress and go out to dinner with me in the late hours of the evening.