Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Becca.” Her body stiffens at the sound of my voice. She slowly turns her head toward me. “Are you okay?” I ask, stepping farther into her room. “You left in a rush.”
“I wanted to tell you, not for you to find out like this.” She manages to sit up. When she’s situated, she reaches for the water next to her bed, which sits on a small table littered with multiple bottles of pills and other paraphernalia. Her hands are shaky, so I step forward and grab it for her.
“Here.” I hand her the cup and she puts it to her lips. It’s then I see her cheeks are sunken in and there are dark shadows under her eyes.
“Thank you.” Her voice is weak, and she takes some more water, then pulls the cup away and places it back on the bedside table.
“Are you sick?” I ask, feeling more terrified by the second.
She manages to give me a small smile. “A tumor. I found out the day I came to your bookstore the first time. I remember seeing you and thinking, ‘I normally wouldn’t say anything to this beautiful lady, but today I got bad news, and I plan to turn that around.’” She blinks her eyes a few times. “I have good days and bad days. Right now is bad. So excuse me I need to sit back.” She rests against the back of the bed, leaning on it.
“And all this will help?”
“No, nothing will help.” Her words shock me, and I feel my chest constrict.
“What do you mean?” I ask, not believing her.
“I’m dying. The doctor says it will be sooner rather than later.” She shrugs. “The bad days are starting to outweigh the good ones.”
“I’m…” Words don’t want to leave me, but I manage some anyway. “Is this why you’ve been trying to reach me?”
She touches her head, and I can see she’s lost weight. How did I not see that before?
“Yes, I planned to tell you. Then you broke it off, and I figured it was better you didn’t know. Then I told my parents.” Tears drip from her eyes and run down her cheeks. She wipes at them angrily, then she lets out a humorless laugh. “They said this happened to me because of who I chose to love… that it’s not normal.”
I take two steps and wrap my arms around her, hugging her to me. She starts to cry even harder, and I feel so lost, broken for her. How can parents let alone anyone be that cruel? Becca is not a bad person. She is probably the nicest person I know—caring and loving—and to top it off, they raised her, so no matter what, they should love her.
Isn’t that what a good parent is meant to do?
My father was a crap parent, but I knew where I stood with him.
Becca, she had hope.
And they crushed it.
And so did I.
“Are you happy with him?” she asks softly.
“I think I could be, yes.” I pull back to see her watching me as she wipes her tears away. “He already loves you. I can see it in his eyes. You’re an easy woman to love.”
“I don’t think we’re there just yet,” I tell her honestly, but she shakes her head slightly.
“It’s amazing how fast love swoops in and saves you, makes you feel things you’ve never felt before and gives you a new sense of life.” Her hands clutch her head, and I back up, afraid I may hurt her. “Sorry, the dizzy spells get me.”
“Do they happen often?” I ask, concerned.
“More so lately.”
“And there’s absolutely no treatment?”
“They offered, but I refused. It’s so far advanced already that it would just make me more uncomfortable. I don’t want to go through all that when I know the outcome.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I ask.
“You had so much going on already. You were marrying a man in the mafia. That within itself can be a death sentence.” She manages to throw a smile my way.
“Can I continue to visit?”
“I want to thank you, Adora…” She lies back down fully on her bed, pulling the covers up as I stand next to her.
“For what?”
“For giving me something I knew I always wanted. To love someone.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks that are now free-falling.
“Adora.”
We both turn in the direction of the door to see Joey standing there.
“I’m not ready,” I say to him, still wiping at my face.
“I spoke to your nurse,” Joey says to Becca, his focus on her frail body curled up in her bed.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your honeymoon. I’m truly sorry,” Becca replies, her eyes holding sadness and now exhaustion. I sit on the edge of her bed and clutch her hand in mine. She offers me a knowing look, then glances at Joey. “Do you know how lucky you are?”