Her blue-green eyes are bright. Her smile is wide. She's strong. She's happy.
The woman in the mirror is me—Sophie-1000, as I've grown to calling myself after watching Terminator 2. Callum always shakes his head before pulling me in and kissing me deeply, like my ridiculousness is one of his favorite things about me.
This experience has changed me not only on the outside, but also on the inside. Not bad different, just...reinforced. Like someone switched my spine with steel.
I was never weak; I see that now, but somehow I feel stronger.
I think about who I was a year ago and what my life was like, and I realize I'm so much happier now. So much has changed—new friends, a new look, a new family, and, most importantly, a new partner. And these additions have only added to my life.
When I brought this up to Callum, he told me it's like I carved out the rot in my life—things I didn't need, I left behind, or they removed themselves, as Paul did—and made room for better things.
Better people.
Better love.
Even in the last couple of months since my doublemastectomy, so many things have changed.
I've begun working again. Avery was so understanding about when I got sick and then the double mastectomy. I took an extended Leave of Absence from work and returned part-time in mid-January, once my range of motion had improved. Now I'm back to working full-time, still from home, and extremely thankful to keep this career.
I've also been handling the books atRivers & Rhodesfor Maeve and Callum and have restructured their budget. Callum tried to pay me for it, but I've refused; we already have an ice cream deal.
Though I have considered a future where I leave my job in Boston to work at the store with my favorite people.
Maybe one day...
Callum moved in with me at my apartment. I had brought it up to him during our logistics discussion before surgery, and I'd been nervous he would think it was weird or uncomfortable. He's stayed over before, but sleeping over a night or two is different from occupying the same space 24/7.
All that worry was for nothing. He had just shaken his head, kissed my forehead, and told me it didn't matter. "All that matters is right now, baby," he'd said firmly. "You and me, this life we're building."
Remember the past for the lessons and memories, but when you keep looking back, you're lost.
Tess and Maeve, despite being complete opposites in personality, had hit it off immediately. Tess's nonjudgmental nature—one of the many qualities I likely inherited from her—meant she never once blinked at Maeve'switchiness.
My sister listened respectfully, offered input when possible, and asked thoughtful questions. It was funny to watch the two of them sit together at my dinner table, Tess in herUS Armyhoodie and sneakers, Maeve in her flowy dresses, discussingtarot or the most haunted places Tess has ever been on deployment.
My sister has even started helping out at the store on weekends, switching shifts with Callum so he could come home to stay with me, which meant I was never alone and never left to fend for myself. She decided to move into the apartment above the store with Maeve, taking the spare bedroom. I know Callum was relieved his mom wouldn't be alone, and his mom was happy Callum was getting out again. He had only been on his own briefly before his dad passed away.
Living with Callum was easy—easier than anything I had ever experienced before in my life. Especially since I was soneedy—"Not needy, sweet girl," he would murmur, tilting my chin up so I had to look him in the eyes. "Just in need of help. There's a difference."—after the surgery, where I had been relatively useless for weeks. I felt like a baby for the longest time, needing assistance with nearly everything. Things I'd never imagined needing help with. Things that felt embarrassing until I saw the way he looked at me—with love and devotion and zero hesitation.
Donna has been an absolute dream, dropping off casseroles that are easy to heat for both of us and sometimes sitting with me to keep me company during my bed rest. Between Callum and Maeve, Donna and Rich, my book club friends, and Tess, I didn't have time to feel lonely through recovery.
A couple of days after my surgery, I was resting in my bedroom when Donna stopped by for a visit. She breezed in, a cloud ofChanel No. 5and sparkly gift bags like a redheaded fairy godmother.
"Hi, honey," she said, walking over to kiss my head. "I brought goodies."
She set the bags next to my bed, settling into a chair as she unpacked everything with a flourish—bath bombs for when Iwas finally cleared for baths, scar cream and oil, aloe and a thick hydrating lotion for the radiation, two pairs of soft pajamas, fuzzy socks, a sheet mask bundle, a plush neck pillow, and—my immediate favorite—a back scratcher in the prettiest rose gold color.
The relief I felt just at the sight of the little thing was ridiculous. You really do take arm mobility for granted until you realize how impossible it is to reach your own back after having your chest carved open. I kept feeling bad about calling Callum just to scratch my back or shoulders.
I was hugging her in thanks—slowly and carefully, and actually more her hugging me—when Callum walked back in, holding a mug of coffee that he handed to Donna with a smile.
"Aw, thank you, Callum," Donna said, taking the mug from his hands and giving him a warm smile.
"You're welcome," he replied, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to my forehead. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes, please."
"I brought broccoli cheddar soup," Donna proudly stated, smiling at both of us.
