Charlotte looked nervous and I hated that. After everything we’d been through I hated that we were dancing around each other like we’d just met.
“You ready?” Charlotte asked.
“Actually,” I prowled toward her, needing to get my hands on her. We had all night but I couldn’t wait. It’d been too long. We’d been so tired lately, Isla had been so sick that each night, after we stumbled home from dinner, we went through the motions, we collapsed into bed and with a quick kiss barely a breath before we both passed out.
Grabbing her by the wrist, I yanked her toward me. With the help of those hot as hell heels, she wobbled into my chest, bracing herself against me.
“Hi,” she breathed out.
I smirked before crushing my lips down over hers. Kissing Charlotte was like coming home. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her, how much I craved her until this moment and once the fuse had been lit, the inferno raged.
As I licked and nibbled on the column of her throat, Charlotte clawed at my shoulders, her nails biting into my skin through my shirt.
“I thought you were taking me out for dinner,” she moaned, lifting her leg and wrapping it around my hip, my fingers trailing along the silky-smooth skin of her thigh. The warmth of her center pressing against my hardening cock.
“What are your thoughts on ordering in?” I growled as I hoisted her up in my arms, before nuzzling on the top of her tits spilling out the top of her dress as she ground herself against me.
“Later,” she panted. “Order dinner later.”
“Great idea,” I said as I carried her back into the bedroom. “Because I plan on starting with dessert,” I informed her, placing her down on the bed before coming down on top of her.
We never did make it out for dinner. We didn’t even bother to order in. Instead, we stayed in bed, just the two of us, hanging out. We ate ice cream from the tub, cookies, and whatever we found in the cupboards. But it wasn’t about what we ate. It wasn’t about the hot, desperate sex we shared. It was about us. Talking. Laughing. Reconnecting. When Charlotte apologized, I realized how close we’d come.
“Charlotte, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I’d told her.
“You and Isla are going through hell, and I feel like I’m taking you away from her.”
“You’re not. You’re part of this family, Charlotte. One of the most important parts. If anyone should be apologizing here, it’s me,” I told her, rolling onto my side completely naked with the sheet draped low across my hips.
“You? What do you have to apologize for, Luke?”
“You’ve been there every step of the way. You held Isla’s hand when she was scared. You’ve got me through the nights when I wasn’t sure I could keep going. And most importantly, you made us smile when I didn’t think we had much to smile about. I need to apologize for not telling you how grateful I am to you. I need to apologize for not telling you, not showing you how much I love you. How much we love you. And how much we want you in our life.”
Charlotte teared up at my words and I wasn’t far behind her. It mightn’t have been a candle lit dinner with the best French Champagne and delicate pastries, but it was perfect for us. It was the night we needed. Especially knowing what was coming at us, head on.
Two days ago, I went to be tested to be a stem cell donor.
Things weren’t going as we would’ve liked for Isla and Doctor Williams had dropped the bombshell that a stem cell transplant was her best option.
For hours that night, Charlotte and I had sat over coffee and she’d walked me through every step of it. What it meant for Isla. What her chances were. What the chances were of finding a match. And what would happen if it didn’t work.
At first, I wasn’t happy that Charlotte wasn’t going to be Isla’s doctor. I was Isla’s father. She was the most precious thing in the world to me and that meant I wanted the best. And in my eyes, Charlotte was the best. It took some time, but now I understood. If Charlotte had been Isla’s doctor, she wouldn’t be able to tell me straight. She wouldn’t be able to just be with Isla, dressing up and playing with her dolls.
Now we were waiting for the results.
It was one of the hardest parts of fighting cancer. The waiting. The constant waiting. The hold your breath moments.
At this stage, we hadn’t told Isla. The last thing I could afford to do was to get her hopes up only to have her disappointed. She turned seven next month and we were already planning her princess themed party. If me dressing as Elsa made her day, then let it fucking go.
This morning, I was back at work but completely distracted. I’d been like this for months, completely unable to put my phone down for fear of what the next call would bring. Thankfully Franklin understood and covered my ass. He’d picked up the slack, apologized for me and even made sure I ate, something I forgot to do more often than not.
“How’s she doing today?” Franklin asked as he strutted into the station early on Monday morning.
“Not too bad. Charlotte took her shopping on Saturday and bought a whole heap of scarves, so she was excited to show her class a new one this morning,” I told him as I dumped my crap on the desk.
“If it makes her smile,” Franklin said with a shrug.
“Exactly.”
