Callum's face collapses for a fraction of a second, his eyes filling with pure misery before he closes his eyes for a brief moment, and when he opens them, he looks at me with such a deep, reverent love it makes my breath catch.
"It's okay to be scared," he murmurs, voice steadying for me, even as his jaw flexes with worry. "But, the doctors and nurses are going to take perfect care of you until I can take care of you after."
I've already said my'see you later, not goodbye'to Maeve, Tonya, and Tess, who are in the family waiting room. Only one person was allowed back here with me in the pre-op room, and Callum had immediately backed down for Tess to go with me, but she had shaken her head.
"Nope, you go, Callum," Tess said before hugging me tight and whispering in my ear. "You needhim."
And I did. I do. I'll always need him.
My friends texted me this morning in our group chat. As did Donna and Rich. All wishing me well and luck with the surgery.With all this support behind me, I still feel scared, but I feel more ready.
Taking a deep breath, I ask Callum, "You'll be here when I wake up?"
"Thesecondyou open your eyes," he promises, voice fierce and protective. It almost sounds like a challenge to the hospital staff in the room—an unspoken, just try to keep me from her.It settles something deep inside me. "I will be right here."
"Promise?" My eyes sting. Everything feels so far away, so cold, except Callum. My hand tightens around his, at least I think it does; my body feels like it's been replaced by a bunch of noodles. Don't let me drift.
"Ipromise, baby."
"We're going to take her back now," the nurse, Breonna—from her soft voice and the nametag over her scrubs—tells us gently as she appears by my bedside. Her brown eyes are kind as she smiles down at me behind her mask. "Ready to get this nasty cancer out of you, Sophie?"
"Yes, please," I slur, smiling at her. I turn back to Callum, who leans down and kisses my forehead, pressing and lingering for a long moment. "Callum..."
"I love you," he says immediately, his voice low and thick, peppering my face with kisses between his loving devotionals. "I love you more than anything—baby—my sweet girl—my otter..."
"I love you too," I say, warmth filling my chest at his words, at his touch. I lean my head into his hand, "And I'll love youforever and ever and ever..."
Callum places one last kiss on my head, slow and heartbreaking, before the bed begins to move. And then he's gone from my line of sight. I try to turn my head, but the medication is pulling me under, soft and heavy. I can't focus on anything. It's all a blur of faces, of light, of whites and blues andgreys until I'm staring at the bright lights of the ceiling, and a pair of kind green eyes.
"Okay, Sophie, I want you to count back from a hundred..."
"100... 99... 98... 97..."
I'm out before I hit 96.
The last thing I see before I slip into peaceful oblivion is Callum's pretty face smiling at me.
Chapter Forty-One
Sophie
February
There's a woman staring back at me.
She's familiar. And yet... not.
She stands naked in her bedroom in front of the mirror. There are scars across her chest; the pink, almost tender color of them shows they're still healing a bit. Her natural breasts and nipples are gone, cut off her body, and in their place are expanders filled with saline. Temporary placeholders until she can get the implants placed.
Her body has filled out again, for which she is very thankful. The nausea has disappeared, and she's able to eat her favorite meals and clear her plate again. Her eyes track down her form, remembering how her collarbones once protruded, her ribcage and hipbones pressed sharply against her skin, and the little pooch of her belly had vanished. Not anymore—blessedly, her weight has climbed back up to what it wasBC (Before Cancer), and that roundness of her body is back.
Her pale skin is flushed with a healthy glow, and she looks forward to trips to the beach this summer, lying in the sun under a deep layer of SPF, e-reader in her lap, and the waves peacefully lulling her.
There's no more bone-deep exhaustion, only some fogginess to her brain that seems to clear day by day. While her hormones are still leveling themselves out after chemotherapy—like early menopause symptoms—her doctor had told her that these thingswould balance out in a couple of months and to give herself grace.
Sure. Tell that to her hot flashes, and the sobbing after dropping ice cream on the boardwalk... and from that adorable cat commercial... and from her boyfriend telling her she looked like the most beautiful girl in the world... and from holding Plot in her arms and realizing that cats don't live forever...
The hair growing from her head again is fuzzy, barely an inch long, and dark brown. She can't seem to keep her hands from brushing against her head, her eyebrows, and the lashes that have reappeared. It's weird how these precisely placed hairs on your face can change your entire expression.
