Bittersweet Catastrophe (Second Chances #2.5) (12 page)

Brushing my thumb along the contours of her cheek, she leaned into my touch and nodded in agreement.

I drifted forward, ghosting my lips against the shell of her ear, and whispered, “Sweetheart, I think we should go today.”

Her big brown eyes shot up, flittering back and forth between my own, and I could see her nerves were getting the best of her. This wasn’t easy for me either, but sooner or later, the truth had to come out, and putting it off was only going to make this harder for both of us. Her fingers dug into my arms as I pulled her up and walked her up the beach to our house.

“Why don’t you call the doctor back and let him know we’ll be in today. Is there anything you need to bring with you?”

She started to shake her head no, but stopped short and turned back to face me. “Just my lucky rabbit’s foot.”

Of course…that mangy old rabbit’s foot. It unexpectedly brought us luck the day we found out we were pregnant with twins, and I prayed our luck hadn’t run out yet.

God, please. If you’re listening, tell me it hasn’t run out yet.

Two hours later, we were sitting in the waiting room and anxiously watching the minutes tick by. It felt like an eternity before Liberty’s name was called, and I was about ready to pull my hair out when a nurse finally came out for us. Yeah, that Rogaine I mentioned a few days ago…I was thinking about throwing that on their tab. It was the least they could do for the hell we’d been put through these last few days, not to mention the patches of hair I’m sure were missing from my head.

The nurse led us back to a room plastered with medical degrees and faces of smiling children, and while I’m sure their photographs were meant to brighten up the mood of the room, I couldn’t help but think that they were mocking us as we awaited her results. As if they were each saying “sorry” with a big teasing grin. Liberty still had the rabbit’s foot clutched in her hand, and as her eyes scanned the room, her hand tightened around the furry appendage.
Yeah…those little smiling shits were mocking us. She saw it, too.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” I carefully pried away her death grip and brought her hand up to my lips. “Try to relax. We’ll be out of here before you know it.”

She pasted on a smile, only giving me a slight nod in response. I hated this. Hated seeing her so distant and devoid of emotion, when deep down, I knew she was ready to break down at any moment. I’d do anything just to see a genuine smile light up her face again, and to be honest, I thought we both could’ve used a distraction; one a little less melancholy.

I looked over to her seated beside me, a sly grin slowly pulling at the corners of my mouth. “Would it help calm your nerves if I did a little strip tease for you while we wait?” I waggled my eyebrows.
Hey, it’s worth a shot.

“Shayne, we’re sitting in the middle of a doctor’s office…”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ve come prepared just for the occasion.”

She eyed me warily and let out a snort, realizing what I was referring to. “Oh God, you didn’t…”

Oh I did.
I stood, leaning against the large mahogany desk, and dragged her chair closer so that I could stand between her legs. The look on her face as I began to pull my fly down, exposing a pair of neon pink boxer briefs with the words “Yes, I am happy to see you” and a smiley face printed across my dick, was totally worth it. Next to my lime green boxer briefs, those were her favorite, and they hadn’t failed to put a smile on her face yet.

“What are you doing?!”

I leaned forward and kissed her lips. “Distracting you. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Well, mission accomplished! Jesus, Shayne, sit back down before…”

“Mrs. Thompson.” A voice came from behind just as I was lifting my shirt.
Shit.
“I’m Dr. Ramesh, the general surgeon, and this must be your–”

I quickly zipped up and rubbed my sweaty palms across my jeans before shaking his hand. “Husband,” I cleared my throat and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s quite all right. Although, I have to admit that’s a first for me,” he laughed, patting me on the back as he rounded the desk. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll get started going over the pathology results of your wife’s biopsy.”

He set the file down on the desk, and my heart sank, right down to the pit of my stomach. This was it. No going back now.

“Mrs. Thompson, it appears the cells that were collected from your left breast were not cancerous, and the ultrasound showed no sign of a tumor being present.”

A heavy breath rushed past my lips.
Thank God!
It was as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from my shoulders and we could all sit back and relax.

“However…”

And then my heart plummeted again. I quickly looked over at Liberty, sitting there stoically with her head hung low, as if the words were going in one ear and out the other.

“The tests did come back positive for
DCIS, which is short for ductal carcinoma in situ.”

Frustrated, I cracked my knuckles and laced them behind my head. Why was it that doctors always assumed their patients understand the medical lingo? If I knew what the hell he was talking about, I’d probably have a damn medical degree myself. “In English, doc.”

“All right, in plain terms,” he paused, rubbing his chin. “It’s not cancer…
yet
. The cells in question are located in the tissues of the milk ducts, and the good news is, it’s non-invasive and hasn’t spread to the surrounding tissue. These cells have a very high risk of developing into cancer, though. If left untreated, they can metastasize and spread to other areas of the body. Your wife is very lucky that she took the initiative to get it checked out right away.”

The doctor’s eyes gravitated to Liberty, who still hadn’t spoken a word. “Do you have any questions before I continue, Mrs. Thompson?”

She lifted her head, her face appearing sober and unfazed, and slowly swayed it from side to side. Had she not heard a single word he just said? I expected some kind of reaction out of her, but not this. She appeared almost…catatonic.

Dr. Ramesh studied her for a moment, clearly confused by her lack of response to the bomb he’d just dropped in our laps, and nodded before continuing. “Well, let me go through your treatment options before we go any further. I know this is a lot of information to throw at you in a short amount of time, but the sooner we tackle this, the greater the chance you’ll have of making a full recovery.” He pulled open a drawer, retrieving a few pamphlets from his desk, and spread them out across his desk. “Our main goal is to ensure that we not only remove any trace of cancer, but prevent it from returning. The fact that the cells in your breast have not become cancerous yet leads me to believe that we won’t run into any issues later on.”

Hearing all of that had eased some of the tension steadily building up inside of me, but he made no mention of Liberty’s pregnancy or how all of this would affect our babies, both now and in the long run. There was still so much uncertainty, with so many questions left unanswered.

“What about the babies?” Liberty spoke up, as if she had read my mind.

We both turned to her, surprised to finally hear her speak up, and the doctor’s expression softened. “Don’t worry,” he came around the front of his desk and leaned his hip against the ledge. He reached for her hand, a bold move on his part considering I was sitting right next to her, and gave it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. “I haven’t forgotten about them. Let me go through your treatment options first, and I’ll explain how everything will tie in together.”

I watched her squeeze his hand back.

A silent understanding.

“Now, the first step we can take is to simply remove the pre-cancerous cells from your breast, but I’m going to be extremely blunt with you…there’s no guarantee that the cancer will not return.”

“What,” Liberty swallowed audibly. “What is the other option?”

“Due to the nature of recurrence, we most commonly perform a mastectomy as a preventative measure. Especially in younger patients.”

Her hands slowly rose up, folding over her chest. She looked absolutely mortified, the color quickly draining from her beautiful face. He could’ve straight up said they were going to butcher her alive and still gotten the same reaction, because in my head, that was exactly what he had just told her. No point sugar coating it with his fancy medical jargon bullshit.

“I know it sounds extreme, but I can assure you, Mrs. Thompson, that we have come a long way in the treatment of breast cancer. Reconstructive surgeons and plastic surgeons have made great advances in the last ten years alone, and I’m not trying to make light of the situation here, but seeing as you’re young and otherwise healthy, you’d be a perfect candidate for such a surgery.”

“Re-reconstructive surgery?” Her brows pinched together, testing out the words. “You mean…”

“You’re not obligated to go through with it, but some women find that reconstructive surgery can help improve your body image and self-esteem post-op, but that’s not always the case. I know you’ll be going through a range of emotions, both leading up to the surgery and after, so I want to make sure that you think this through before we come to a final decision.”

“All right, just give me a minute. This…this is a lot for me to process.” She closed her eyes, and by the way she was frantically working her jaw, it was obvious that none of this was sitting well with her.
Can you blame her?
“You said that it isn’t cancer.”

“That’s correct, but…”

“You said that it isn’t cancer…” Her eyes flew open. “But now you’re telling me you want to take my
b-breasts
?”

“Mrs. Thompson…”

“Liberty.”

“Liberty.” He smiled softly. “If you’ll allow me to explain the reconstructive process in more detail, I think it will ease some of your misgivings.”

“Just hear him out, sweetheart.” I pulled my chair closer to her and cupped her cheek. Slipping into the brown pools of her eyes, I could see they were no longer void of emotion. She was scared, vulnerable, exposed; everything I’d have expected her to feel, but had yet to see so painfully evident until now. It was a relief to see her finally break out of her protective bubble and allow the words the doctor had been saying to fully sink in. “Please.”

Liberty’s shoulders slouched, and she leaned back in her chair, giving the doctor her undivided attention. “I’m listening.”

Dr. Ramesh darted his eyes over to me, and I nodded, urging him to continue. “I know how difficult it is hearing this for the first time, but breast reconstructive surgery is not as harsh as it sounds. In fact, it has one of the highest success rates of any reconstructive surgery. Now, the initial surgery will involve cutting the breast tissue away from the skin and muscle. In some cases, we’re able to leave the nipple and areola intact, but we’ll know more once we see the tissue inside and see exactly what we’re dealing with. The sooner we go ahead with surgery, the more likely we’ll be able to leave them intact.” He smiled briefly and went on. “Immediately after the breast tissue is removed, we’ll insert a tissue expander to re-stretch the skin and then finally an implant. Depending on whether or not you’ll need radiation, chemotherapy, or a combination of both, the entire process can be anywhere from one to six months. But once all is said and done, Liberty, the scarring will be minimal, and you’ll look as good as new.”

Liberty’s face paled again, and this time I thought she might actually get sick. “You still haven’t said how all of this will affect the babies.”

“You’re now going into your second trimester. Is that correct?” he asked, flipping through her file.

She nodded.

“That’s good to hear. The further you are into your pregnancy, the less likely they are to be affected by the treatments. Surgery won’t be an issue, and chemo
during the second and third trimesters may be administered without necessarily harming them. Luckily, the placenta acts as a barrier between you and the babies, so some drugs cannot pass through this barrier or will pass through in very small amounts.
However, I would be hesitant going through with radiation while you are pregnant. If it does turn out that radiation will be required, I would suggest holding off on having the surgery until the babies are born, just to be safe. Again, we won’t know for sure until the actual surgery takes place.”

“Less likely to be affected?” she asked, looking nowhere in particular.

“Liberty, sweetheart, he’s trying to say that you’re far enough along that you’ll be able to get started on treatment right away. We won’t have to wait months from now.”

I smiled optimistically, hoping she would feel the same, but when her gaze settled on me, it wasn’t what I had expected. Tears flooded her eyes, and they weren’t the happy ones I’d been wishing for. “Shayne, are you not hearing what I’m hearing?”