“Hey now, remember the boobs,” I said, then smirked when she thwacked my arm. “How’s my favorite niece doing?”
“I’m your only—wait, do we know what Uncle Bennie’s kids are?”
“I don’t know if Bennie knows himself.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and stepped inside.
“What’s this about Bennie?” Rhiannon came in from the kitchen. “Hey, kiddo.”
The fact that she was about five and half feet tall and I was six foot five meant nothing to her. As long as I was ten years younger, I was a kiddo to her.
I hugged her longer than I normally would have, and of course she noticed.
“Hey, I’m sorry about Ruth,” she murmured into my ear. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I let her go and straightened my back, wincing.
“Come, let me find you a snack while I make dinner.”
Samira followed us into the kitchen, and soon we were sat at the kitchen table, snacking on hummus and tortilla chips while Rhiannon cooked.
“Where were you last again?” Samira asked.
“The Greek Islands. I have another Bahamas job lined up soon.”
“If I had any talent in cooking, I’d want to become a private chef, too,” she said for the hundredth time.
“Eh, it’s not as fancy as you think.” I didn’t need to elaborate; we’d had this discussion before several times.
Rhiannon’s kitchen had been updated before she moved in. I really liked that. She loved to cook, so having the right kind of space for that was vital. It was her way of destressing and taking care of her people.
“So, how’s the boobs?” I raised a brow at Samira.
Rhiannon chuckled and continued to chop something.
“They took the biopsy yesterday and should call with results tomorrow because they put a rush on it just in case. Either way, I think they’re going to cut the whole tit off just to be sure.” Samira shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Didn’t have much boobage anyway, so…”
I tilted my head and looked at her, trying to figure out if she was being honest. I decided she was, and I nodded slowly. I was glad they were doing everything they could to make sure she’d get any needed treatment as quickly as possible, given her history. Nobody wanted her to have the big C, but life had a funny sense of humor.
“Well, I’m going to hang around for a bit. Just in case you need more hugs.”
“Deal.” She grinned, reaching over the table as if she was going to take my hand, but instead she stole the last chip from the bowl and cackled like a witch.
“Rhiannon, your daughter is bullying me.”
She snorted. “I’m sure you can deal, you delicate flower you.”
* * * *
The results were good, so they gave Samira a choice of keeping her breast if she wanted to. I offered to pay for the DNA test to see if she had that breast cancer gene, and we decided to do that first.
Couple of weeks later, we found out she did, in fact, have the gene, and she opted for double mastectomy.
“Are you absolutely sure, sweetheart?” Ahsan asked her for the second time as we waited in her room, just before they’d roll her into surgery.
“Yes, Dad. I’ve had enough cancer to last a lifetime. This is one part of my body I don’t have to worry about. Besides, if I ever want kids, there are other ways to nourish them.”
Ahsan hugged her gently and sighed. “All right. It’s your body. You get to decide.”
“Now, Uncle Jack and Mom, hugs before they wheel me away.”
