Always and Forever (4 page)

5.

M
att held Lisa’s hand as she was wheeled past him from oncology on her way through to surgery. He felt helpless. Completely, infuriatingly helpless, and he hated it. It brought back too many memories, made him want to just run away to avoid what he knew might be coming. What could happen. They’d been in a hallway just like this only weeks earlier when she’d so bravely gone through with the termination, and now they just had to hope they’d caught her cancer early enough that the surgeons could work their magic.

“Matt,” she whispered when he bent to kiss her.

He held tight, smiled down at her. “You’re gonna be fine. Absolutely fine.”

“Tell him I need to be able to have kids. Please tell him how important that is to me.”

Matt took a deep breath. “Baby, he knows that. We’ve told him already.”

“But . . .”

“Lisa, the most important thing is beating this. Kicking cancer’s butt, yeah? He’s already told us that there is a small chance they’ll have to be more invasive, but they’re not going to do that unless they have to. To save you. Nothing is more important than saving you.”

She looked away, but not before he saw tears fill her eyes. He stroked her face, wished she got the fact that he didn’t give a damn about anything other than saving her. Sure, he wanted kids, but he wanted kids with Lisa around; he wanted to raise them together, or not at all. He wasn’t going to lose her.

“Okay, I’ll tell him,” Matt said, not wanting to say the wrong thing before her surgery. She was scared and he needed to step up and show her that he was there for her. He just wasn’t used to feeling like they were on different teams.

“Promise?” she whispered.

“Promise,” he said, giving her a little wave as he stepped back. “You’ll be great; it’ll all be okay.”

Her smile was small but it was there. Matt watched her go before turning around and heading for the waiting room. Then he changed his mind and decided to go grab a coffee. He made his way to the hospital café and ordered, then sat down and pulled out his phone. He had jobs to organize, calls to make; he’d rather keep busy instead of thinking about what Lisa was going through. He’d been there in another lifetime, seen his mom suffer and then silently, strongly end her battle with the disease. But Lisa was going to be fine. Because she’d had the termination, the oncologist and surgeons were confident they could eliminate the cancer.

He went on the Internet instead, stared at his Google homepage and forced himself to smile when the waitress bought his coffee over. Lisa was so damn upset about not being able to have kids, but all he cared about right now was not losing her. Cancer wasn’t going to take his wife, not on his watch.

Adoption.
Matt grinned when he saw how many links came up. If she couldn’t carry their kids, then they could adopt. There was another link to fostering.
Hmmm
. He frowned. It wasn’t something he’d have chosen to do, taking in an older child, but . . . He kept scrolling.
Surrogacy.
Why the hell not? So what if they had to take a different route to have kids? He’d have to read more about it, but he was pretty open-minded.

Matt sipped his coffee. Everything was going to be fine, he told himself, over and over. If she couldn’t carry a baby, if it was worse than they thought during surgery and it ended up being more radical, he’d find a way to give them a family. To keep Lisa happy. This was his time to look after her, and everything was going to be okay.
Smiles and fun
, he reminded himself, swallowing a lump in his throat that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Just because she had cancer didn’t mean he couldn’t make her laugh while he was looking after her. Once this surgery was over, everything was going to go back to normal and they’d be fine.

Because everything was going to be fine. She was going to be fine. He couldn’t cope with losing her, not after what he’d been through in the past. Lisa was the bright light that had kept shining when he’d needed it most, and once this was over he hoped like hell he’d get his wife back. Because she’d been nothing like the woman he was used to since her diagnosis, and he wanted her back so bad.

“Matt?” Lisa was groggy, her lips so dry that it felt like she’d had to crack them apart just to speak.

She opened her eyes, slowly lifted her head to look around. But the room was empty. Where was he? She was sore. Her whole body felt weird, and she wasn’t sure if it was the surgery, the anesthetic or a combination of both.

The door suddenly flung open just as she turned to look at the full water jug beside her bed, desperate for a drink.

“Hey!”

Matt burst in, a blur as he rushed toward her bed, a big balloon in his hand that he let go of as soon as he met her gaze.

“Hey,” she managed, voice hoarse.

Matt kissed her forehead and smiled down at her. “Water?”

Lisa nodded, pushing herself up on her elbows. She vaguely recalled the nurses talking to her, but she must have fallen asleep again soon after.

“Did everything go okay?”

Even though she was hazy, she saw Matt’s face change, knew that something was wrong. He passed her the water, a smile still plastered on his face. But she wasn’t buying it. It was the same face he used when she caught him out coming home late after a beer with the guys, or when he’d made crazy decisions to buy expensive things for the house when they were fixing it up.

“Matt?”

“Baby, you’re here. You’re good.” He held the water for her to sip, a straw facing up at her. “They’re confident that they got it all, that it was picked up early enough.”

Lisa swallowed, her throat dry despite the water she’d just drunk. “Matt, tell me.”

He looked guilty. Or . . . ? She gripped his hand, stared at him.

“Did they do the surgery as planned?”

“No,” he admitted, raking his hands through his hair, jaw like steel as he stared down at her. “Lisa, they saved you. Isn’t that all that matters right now? You’re alive and talking to me.”

Her hands were shaking, her body stone cold as she pulled up to a proper sitting position. She felt sore down below, tender as she moved.

“Will we be able to have children?”

Matt wouldn’t meet her gaze, looked away.

“Matt!”

“No,” he said, finally staring into her eyes. “No, Lisa, we can’t have children. They intended on doing the cone biopsy, but they found out it wasn’t enough during surgery, so they had to do a more radical procedure. But they got it. They got it, Lis.”

Her eyes were burning, tears hot and piercing as they flooded her eyes.

“Baby, we can adopt, foster, have a surrogate. We can still have a family one day. It doesn’t mean we can’t be parents.”

Lisa wanted to be sick. How could he say that? How could he just dismiss what had happened to her? Did it even hurt him that they’d lost their baby? That she’d never have the chance to feel a flutter in her belly from her own child ever again? All these weeks she’d told herself that once she was pregnant again, the pain in her heart wouldn’t be so bad. That as soon as she got pregnant for a second time, everything would be okay.

“I don’t want to adopt, Matt,” she said quietly as tears started to drop silently down her cheeks.

“Hey, if we don’t have kids, we can go on motorcycle convoys and jump out of planes. We could make a whole list of awesome stuff that . . .”

“No,” she whispered. “No, Matt. Just go.”

He reached for her hand, slipped his fingers between hers, but she pulled away. His face was forlorn, mouth downcast, but she didn’t care right now, didn’t have the energy or will to comfort him. This wasn’t a time for his stupid jokes or pretending like everything was okay when it damn well wasn’t.

“Lisa, please. You’re alive, you’re . . .”

She turned away, her tears soaking the pillow beneath her head. “Just leave me alone.” Right now, the mere fact she was alive didn’t seem like a decent consolation prize.

Matt had always made her smile, had always been so much fun. There had never been a time when he hadn’t been able to make her see the bright side of life. But not now. She didn’t want to know what they could do or what great ideas he’d come up with; she just wanted to cry. For the babies she’d never birth. For the children she’d never see grow, their eyes the same color as hers or Matt’s or their hair the same blonde shade as hers.

Matt was so damn worried about saving her, and yet all she could think about was the baby she’d already given up just to go through the surgery today. The surgery that had stolen something from her that she wanted almost more than life itself.

6.

C
an I get you anything?”

Lisa shook her head, stared at Matt. She wished he’d stop trying to look after her when all she really wanted was to be alone.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re sure? I could make a sandwich or do one of your smoothies. I’ve got a whole ton of fruit I can use.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she managed, looking out the window, not wanting to connect with him.

“You look great,” he said, coming closer and slinging an arm around her shoulder.

“I don’t feel great.” She actually didn’t care how she looked. It was the last thing she was worried about.

“Want to watch a movie? I’ve got all your old favorites ready to go.” Matt laughed. “I’m even prepared to watch
Sex and the City
with you.”

She didn’t want to laugh back but she managed a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Or that movie
Dear John
if you want to go all sappy. Otherwise I’m thinking back-to-back viewings of
The Hangover
movies if you feel like laughing.”

She wanted to strangle him and yell that she doubted she’d ever want to laugh again. But she didn’t. Something inside stopped her. But she couldn’t stop wondering if he just didn’t care as much as she did about what had happened.

“Can we take a rain check? I think I’ll just go lie outside in the sun for a bit. Don’t you have work?”

“Uh, yeah, but I want to look after you. Come on, we can have fun, can’t we?”

She shook her head. “Just go to work. I’ll be fine, and I’m tired. That way I can sleep.”

Matt watched her like he wasn’t sure what to do, so she managed another smile, wanted to convince him to leave her without having to scream at him that he was suffocating her. She wasn’t used to being fussed over or looked after, and she hated it.

“Okay. Well, I’ll head out for a bit. I won’t be long.”

Lisa hoped he would be. She could do with an entire day of not having to answer to anyone. Not having Matt watching her every move, waiting like she was miraculously going to morph back into her old self. No amount of homemade juices and pats on the head were going to magically make her happy again, even if she craved the exact thing that Matt wanted—for everything to go back to normal again, for her to be herself, for them to be happy without having to try. Maybe she should have just gone to Kelly’s place and let her sister look after her.

Matt was starting to feel like it was
Groundhog Day
. Over and over and over. It had been two weeks since Lisa’s cancer surgery now, but every day had been the same. There hadn’t been a flicker of the old Lisa yet, not even a hint of her improving. He was terrified it was always going to be like this, that he wasn’t ever going to get her back. And he was just as scared that he had no idea how to make things better.

Then he’d remind himself what Lisa had been through, the shit she’d survived. He deserved a punch in the face for even thinking that what he was going through was hard. He had her; his wife had survived. It cut deep to think they couldn’t have kids, but nothing would change the way he felt about her. He knew what it was like to lose the most important person in his life, and he didn’t ever want to face that again.

“Matt, we need to talk.”

Matt looked up, dragged his eyes from the television screen. His mom sat down on the sofa beside him, had a look on her face he couldn’t read. He sat back and waited, saw his dad walk into the room and wondered what the hell was going on.

“Matt, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but I’ve been diagnosed with a type of cancer.”

Matt froze. He looked from his mom to his dad.

“You’re kidding, right? Is this a bad joke to see how I react?”

“Matt, this isn’t something I’d joke about. I just want you to know so you understand what I’m going through.”

He sat up, ran a hand through his hair. Looked back up at his da
d again.

“What
. . .
I mean, how
. . .
?” He didn’t even know what he was trying to say.

“Darling, I’m going to be fine. I promise I won’t let cancer beat me, but I might have to have chemo and maybe radiation, and I didn’t want to start losing my hair or being tired and you not knowing what was going on.”

“Of course I want to know,” he choked out, staring at his dad again. He still couldn’t believe it, but he could tell from the sad look on both his parents’
faces that it was true. “Could you die?”

His mom reached for him and he threw his arms around her, didn’t care that he was way too old to be hugging his mom so hard.

“I could,” she whispered, her lips brushing his cheek, “but I won’t. I’m not leaving you.”

He hugged her tight, squeezed his eyes shut when he felt her body shudder and realized she was crying.

“I love you, Mom,” he muttered, needing her to know.

“I know, darling. I love you, too.”

Matt held her for as long as he could, until she finally pulled back and stared into his eyes, stroking his face.

“We’re going to be fine, okay? We just need to get through this as a family.”

Matt swallowed hard, the emotion lodged in his throat like a rock that was impossible to shift. He didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to remember. Lisa had been the only reason he’d been able to move forward, get past his mom’s death, because she’d given him something to live for, had drawn him in and made him feel alive.

Which was why he was finding caring for his wife so damn tough right now. Because she wasn’t the Lisa he knew, and it was sending him back to a time he didn’t want to relive.

Something nudged against him and he bent when he realized that Blue was pressing against his leg, nudging him.

“Hey, boy.” He bent and scratched the dog’s brown head, then patted his body, before straightening and forcing himself down the hall, worried that Lisa was pulling away from him, withdrawing further into herself instead of making slow steps forward.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, keeping his voice light, not wanting Lisa to know how much he was struggling.

She didn’t answer. Matt stepped in anyway, clearing his throat, not sure if she was asleep or just ignoring him.

“Lisa?”

He heard a groan, saw her move.

“There’s someone here to see you,” Matt said, glancing down at Blue, then pointing to the bed. “Go say good morning!”

Blue didn’t need to be told twice. He took off toward the bed and bounded up instantly, jumping on Lisa and saying good morning the only way he knew how—thumping his tail and licking her face.

“Get off!” she groaned. “Blue, get off me!”

The dog hesitated and Matt laughed. “Come on, he misses you. Give the poor guy some love.”

“Get him off me!” Lisa demanded.

Matt quickly walked to the bed and hauled Blue down. “Sorry, bud, not this morning.” The dog looked dejected and Matt shared the feeling. It was so unlike Lisa not to want Blue; she was usually first to call him up on the bed in the morning for cuddles.

“Sorry, he’s been nosing around looking for you,” Matt said. He’d opened the blinds earlier and hoped it would rouse her, but it hadn’t worked, which was why he was back in the room to coax her out.

“Come on, what do you want? Breakfast, coffee, anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ve told the guys I won’t be in to work today. I thought we could have breakfast, take Blue for a nice long walk in the sun, grab a coffee . . .” Matt stared at her, wanting his wife back, the woman who was usually raring to go in the morning and would be out the door faster than him to take the dog out.

She drew the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “You don’t need to do that. Just go to work and do whatever you had planned.”

“Lisa, come on,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “This isn’t like you. Let me take you out for lunch or something. Anything.”

He was lost. He had no idea what he was supposed to do anymore.

Lisa lifted her head. It felt like it was stuffed with stones, so heavy she could barely lift it. Matt was trying. She got that, and it wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it; she just wanted to be left alone instead of him constantly trying to fix her.

He just didn’t seem to get that she was grieving. That she needed time to herself, to process what had happened, to just stare into nothingness and not focus on the pain. Each day felt worse than the one before, not better.

Matt was sitting on the bed now. He stroked her hand and she stared at his fingers on her skin.

“Lisa, come on. Let me spend the day with you.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” she forced out.

He sighed and stood, arms folded across his chest as he looked down at her. “But I am worried about you. I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“Could you close the blinds?” she asked.

He obliged, crossing the room and pulling both blinds shut so the room was bathed in near darkness.

“Fine. I’ll be home soon, well before dinner,” Matt said, stopping beside the bed and dropping a kiss into her hair.

She forced a smile. “Okay.”

When he left, she slumped down, head on the pillow. She wanted to get up and take a shower, but just the thought of it made her feel exhausted. But . . . She listened to Matt’s footsteps, waited until she heard the jangle of his keys, knew he’d head straight out. Once he was gone, she forced her feet out of bed and stared at the bathroom like it was her target. She just needed to get up and get going, and if she didn’t have Matt hovering then she might just be able to get through a day. It was like he was just waiting for her to come back, thinking that he could be all bright and normal and that some of that would rub off on her. Only it didn’t, and as much as she loved him, it was starting to wear her down.

Lisa showered, brushed her teeth and put some make-up on. She could wear her glasses so no one could see how bloodshot her eyes were, and she didn’t have to talk to anyone, but she did need to get out of the house. She walked down the hall, stared straight ahead and didn’t look at the nursery door. Tears threatened, but she didn’t let them fall. She grabbed an apple from the kitchen along with her keys and went into the garage. Her work was only a short drive away, and within fifteen minutes she was parked and walking through the front door. It was late morning, so it was already open, and she was grateful to see it was her part-timer, Jules, on, not Savannah, her manager.