30
cancer free.
Such small words. Such heavy, monumental, life-changing words. It takes three weeks after my doctor delivers the news for the truth of it to fully sink in. And as it does, the last chain weighing on my heart breaks.
I’m free.
“I want kids,” I blurt, silencing the conversation at the table where Sebastian and I are having a mellow New Year’s Eve dinner with Nona and my dad.
Sebastian’s fork hangs suspended halfway to his mouth. “Okay.” He clears his throat. “Shouldn’t we get married first?”
Avoiding his eyes, I shrug and tear a dinner roll in half. It’s too late to take the words back—not that I want to. But I realize my timing could have been better. A little more private.
Oh well. We’ve never been great at following the rules, anyway. Since Thanksgiving, we’ve been attached at the hip like lusty teens, taking advantage of Sebastian’s current hiatus and making up for lost time. We’ve given Nona her house back and moved into one of the guest suites upstairs—far away from my dad’s room.
We haven’t talked about the next steps, where we’ll live, what I want to do for a vocation. But neither of us are in a hurry. For the first time in our respective lives, we’ve slowed down. Way, way down. No more running from the past or each other. We’re living in the moment and appreciating every day.
Some of it is uncomfortable—exposing layers of ourselves to each other that no one has ever seen—and some of it is indescribably beautiful—falling asleep and waking up in each other’s arms, taking long walks, having quiet dinners with the family, and simply being happy.
Some of it, too, is disastrous. Like when we caught a case of the Idiots and decided to live out our fantasy role-play in the woods. In the middle of the night. In winter. In Massachusetts. In the freaking snow. No matter what you might be imagining, it wasn’t sexy. But at least (a few days and hot baths later) it was funny.
Thanking a cancer scare for my newfound zeal for life is the last thing I want to do, but for better or worse, it’s the truth. The small lump in my breast was a fibroadenoma, a non-cancerous tumor that’s not all that uncommon, though my doctor recommended removing it anyway. It was a simple outpatient procedure, the recovery not long, but the whole process was a stark reminder that I remain genetically at risk.
Vera flew back out from L.A. with Alex and Thea, and Charles and Deacon returned as well. The waiting room was packed, just like Vera had said it would be. My brothers were especially affected, sober and attentive and trying hard to hide their worry. Deacon took it the hardest, even sharing with me on previously taboo topics like his desire to have a family. After assuring him that he’d find his happily ever after, I privately wished luck to whatever future woman found herself in his crosshairs.
Sebastian’s voice brings me back to the present. “We can talk about this later. There’s no rush.” I realize he’s misinterpreted my silence for regret, which makes me smile.
I look at him, at his beautiful face, and words tumble out with my breath. “To be honest, Bast, I don’t care if we get married.”
“Really?” he asks skeptically.
“Yes, really. I mean, if you want to get married, we can get married. All I ask is that it’s small. Like small. And in a few years. We might as well make sure we don’t kill each other first.”
Sebastian’s eyes sparkle. “I think we have other methods now for dealing with our frustrations.”
I grin. “I’ll say.”
My dad groans, slumping in his chair with his hand over his face. Unrepentant, Sebastian and I laugh.
Nona pipes in, her tone arch: “In case it matters, I’d like there to be a wedding.”
My dad perks up. “Do I get a vote?”
“Of course not,” says Nona, as Sebastian mutters, “Why not?”
My dad grins at me—the same devilish expression mastered by all of his sons. “If you rob me of the pleasure of walking my only daughter down an aisle, I’ll haunt you forever.”
Seeing the true sentiment and vulnerability lurking behind his smile, warm affection spreads through me. Keeping eye contact, I nod. “Deal. Not the haunting bit, but the walking.”
Sebastian clears his throat. “I’m not sure how I feel about getting married by popular vote.”
I throw half of my dinner roll at him. Grinning, he catches it midair and takes a bite.
* * *
My current predicament is a welcome one, a delicious, stretching invasion as Sebastian enters me one slow inch at a time.
“Look at me.”
The words are punctuated by a thrust that anchors him fully inside me. Gasping, I open my eyes. Moonlight filters through the filmy curtains by the bed, giving his features an ethereal glow. A lock of hair, slightly curled, falls across his brow. Lifting my hand from his waist, I brush it back, and he dips to capture my lips in a lush kiss.
“I’ve made a decision,” I say breathlessly.
An adorable little frown pinches the skin between his eyebrows. “About what? It’s a little late to back out of…” He glances down and I swat his arm.
“About what I want to do.”
“Oh yeah?” He kisses my chin. “What’s that?”
“I want to expand the reach of Mom’s charity, Delilah’s Cause. I’m thinking of starting free after-school art programs for underprivileged kids. Boston to start, then who knows. Maybe go national. And I want to do work overseas. Travel where help is needed, and—”
“Okay.”
I focus on Sebastian’s wide smile. “Okay?”
He nods. “It sounds perfect for you. For us.”
I melt into the moment, my senses opening wide. His warm chest presses against mine, our hearts beating together. His dark eyes are full of tenderness and passion. Muscled arms cage my head, making me feel small and protected. He’s everywhere inside me, deep in my bones, in my blood and breath.
“Make love to me, Bast,” I whisper, arching beneath him. “Give me everything.”
His fingers whisper along my cheekbone, graze my jaw and lips. “You have it, Candy. Always.”
His hips swirl against mine, pouring kerosene on the flame that lives between us… has flickered since we were too young to know what it meant. Whimpering in need, I clench my legs around his hips, shattering his restraint.
And he gives it to me. Everything.