My hips rock against my hand, and I spread my legs to give myself more access, moaning at the feeling. I close my eyes and picture his large body—naked, completely covering mine, warm and solid. His wandering hands leave a scorching trail—to my hips, squeezing and kissing my breasts, grabbing my ass, before finally reaching my aching center and rubbing.
"Fuck yes... oh God...Callum!"I cry out, the orgasm rushing over me hard and fast and causing my entire body to tense and then spasm. I smack my hand over my mouth, knowing that my walls are thin and my neighbors can be nosy, and I really don't want them to hear me masturbating.
I keep rocking against my hand, trying to draw the orgasm out longer and longer. Fuck, it feels sogood—like letting go of a tension I had no idea I was carrying, it rushing from my body and leaving me in a completely relaxed, boneless state.
Aftershocks cause my legs to twitch as I slow my hand's movements, breathing heavily.
"Oh,wow..." I breathe out, giggling softly to myself as I pull my hand from my panties. I reach my hands up and stretch, noting the light coming through the curtains. When I tap my phone’s screen, my eyes widen when I see that it’s past eight.
It's Saturday, and I don't have anywhere to be today, but I'm still not completely used to sleeping past six. The chemotherapyhas me sleeping longer and deeper—a normal side effect, Nurse Patti had assured me.
There's a doctor's appointment on Wednesday to discuss how my treatment is going, and I hope that they will tell me we can proceed with the mastectomy in December. I'd rather just get it done and over with so I can go into the New Year with some hope, but that means that the chemotherapy will have had to shrink the tumor enough to be cleared for surgery.
Then, after that is radiation, which I've heard is even more intense than chemo. It's like every step is harder than the last—the chemo, then losing my breasts and getting the implants, which I've read can be a little painful, then the radiation.
Then, I am aiming for the cancer to be gone so that I can move forward with life.
Despite all of this, though, I feel truly optimistic and just generally good about everything.
And I think that's the doing of Callum.
I don't feel alone in this fight. I have Callum. I have Tess and Maeve. I have Donna and Rich. I have my book club friends. I have something to look forward to every Monday. I have my little Plot to play with when I'm at the store, who cuddles into my chest and purrs that soothing little sound for me. I have a flexible job that I genuinely enjoy doing. I have things to live for, I have an incentive to fight.
I love my life.
Okay, I've lost my hair, but I took control of that and allowed Callum to help me, and—God, that was... an emotionally trying, but ultimately freeing experience. And I am so glad that I shared it with him.
I've never felt that safe with someone before.
Sure, I'm exhausted more often than not, but I just listen to my body: if it's telling me to rest and sleep, I do.
I figure that can only help me heal.
And, yeah, my ass of an ex-fiancé cheated on me because he couldn't deal with my cancer battle, but that only allowed me to find these incredible people who have become my most ardent supporters.
Best of all, it allowed me to find Callum.
That's a pretty good trade, if I say so myself. I think I made out like a bandit.
I have cancer, but cancer sure as hell doesn't have me.
I smile thinking of Karen's words from that day—the day everything blew up, a necessary destruction to find out just how strong I am, and just how great life can be. I had found comfort in those words, but now I know how true they are.
Pulling myself out of bed, I head to the bathroom to wash my hands and brush my teeth. Going through my usual morning routine—I make my bed, take a relaxing shower, wrap myself in my fluffy robe, and head to the kitchen to make coffee. I'm just grabbing my mug when there's a knock on my door.
My heart skips a beat, not expecting anyone this morning. Wrapping the robe tighter around myself and reaching up to my bald head, I briefly consider running to grab my hat. I hope that it's just a delivery and I can tell them just to leave it at the door.
Looking through the peephole, I smile. Bailey and Tonya.
I hesitate for only a moment, as they haven't seen me without a hat, and then realize that it's silly to be self-conscious—they're my friends, and my friends won't judge me.
My thoughts are proven when I swing open the door, and they don't even blink.
"Good morning, sunshine!" Bailey's beautiful voice is a sing-song, and she promptly hands over aRise N' Grindcup to me. "We brought coffee!"
"And cinnamon rolls, made fresh by April," Tonya winks, holding up the box and walking right around me into my apartment without invitation. Bailey bounces in after her, andI blink in confusion, happy to see them, but wondering why they're here in the first place.
"Uh, thanks," I say, taking a sip of the coffee and smiling. Vanilla oat latte, made to perfection. April, you angel. I close the door and follow them in, Tonya plopping down on the couch and stretching out to get comfortable, glancing around the living room with a fond smile. Her eyes land on my little knick-knacks, her grin widening when she sees the newest addition on my bookshelf—a framed photograph of me and Callum from our first date. I had taken it before we left the carnival, our faces mashed together and both of us beaming at the camera.
