Chapter 44 Indie

Chapter 44

Indie

There’s a gentle breeze in the air, a telltale sign that fall is coming, but my palms are clammy as I walk up the path to meet the girls at Mia’s. I’d love to blame hot flashes, but I’m not deluded enough to pretend it’s not also about the fact that I feel like I’m walking into a firing squad. A very friendly firing squad whose ammo is just a boatload of questions.

I wipe my palms on my jeans, unsure if I want to be the first one here or the last. Or I could turn around and run, except it would have to be a fast walk and they’d definitely catch me, stupid restrictions .

Nope, there is no other choice but to woman up and face them. It’s time. In our group chat earlier, Mia told everyone just to let themselves in. So I do just that, walking through the kitchen and following the sound of voices to the back patio.

I’m the last one here, and there are four sets of eyes on me as I join them at the outdoor table where Poppy, Mia, Willa, and Lilah wait. I take the open spot between Mia and Poppy, leaving Willa and Lilah on the other side of the table .

“Hey,” I offer in greeting as I pull my chair forward, wincing when it scraps loudly.

Poppy’s hand covers mine, flipping it over in hers and rubbing a thumb over the simple gold band. “You got married and didn’t tell me.” She tries to hide it, but there’s a hint of pain in her words.

“I never imagined it would happen like this, or quite so fast,” I tell her, covering her hand with my other one and squeezing. “There’s a lot I need to tell you, and I’m sorry if any of it hurts you. That was never my plan. A lot happened all at once and I needed some time to come to terms with it.” I laugh weakly, realizing I sound like a broken record.

When I look around the table, everyone is waiting for me. Maybe I was wrong about the firing squad. Mia’s brows are pinched as she studies me with concern. She’s always been the most observant of the group.

I shift in my chair so I’m looking at Poppy for this part. It’s going to hit her the hardest. “I had the genetic test done.”

Her face pales, and her eyes go wide. “When?”

My throat is dry when I try to answer her and I have to swallow to get the words out. “Two and a half weeks ago. The results came back positive.”

Her head drops to where our hands are still joined and her back heaves. I watch my best friend struggle not to fall apart and my heart splinters. This is why I didn’t want to tell her. My mom’s illness impacted her almost as much as it did my dad and I. She was more of a mother to Poppy than her own was. I wanted to protect her from this as long as I could, the same way she tried to do when Jensen broke me.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ve already met with my doctors. Dom helped me make a plan. We’re going to be okay.” My hand rubs circles over her back and she slowly lifts her head.

If she’s still hurt that I kept things from her, she doesn’t show it. “Tell me the plan,” she says, sounding stronger. More like the friend that kept me from withering away to nothing when my mom was dying.

When your world comes crashing down around you, time does this funny thing where it seems to stand still. It’s like you’re trudging through it in slow motion and the world passes by at light speed. I think back to that day two and a half weeks ago when a simple blood draw upended everything and that’s where I start.

“Dom was with me for the blood draw, and every step of the way since. He put baseball aside to be there when I needed him, not caring if he got in trouble. No one I’ve dated has ever given that much of themselves to me.”

“The game he missed,” Lilah remarks, putting the pieces together.

“That was the day I got the results back. I was useless. There’s no way I would have retained any information or made it through that appointment without him there.”

“I’m glad he was there for you,” Poppy says, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Once the initial shock of it waned, I knew I wanted surgery. I want the chance my mom never had; the future Dom and I have planned out. I want it all; every fucking second that I have, and I want it with him.”

“Do you have surgery scheduled?” Willa asks, chiming in for the first time.

I shake my head. “That future I mentioned includes having kids with the man I love.” Poppy’s grip on my hand tightens. “Slow your roll, babe. I’m freezing my eggs, not getting pregnant. Don’t you think a new husband is enough adventure for one week? Once we get through the retrieval, I’ll know the timeline for surgery.”

“I hate to ask, but this marriage came out of nowhere. Are you worried at all that you are letting the emotions of all this cloud your judgment?” From what I know of Willa, she’s practical and to the point, so I’m not surprised that she’s the first to ask the question I’m sure has crossed everyone’s mind.

“No.” Everyone but Lilah seems equally shocked by the sureness in my answer.

“How’d it happen?” Poppy asks, tilting her head to the side.

“When we found out, he went straight into business mode. We had so much to figure out and once I started processing all of it, I realized I was going to have to get a job with insurance. He wouldn’t hear it.”

“He could have just helped cover the costs,” Willa points out .

“He could have, but it wasn’t just about the money or insurance.” I rub my temples trying to figure out how to explain that the man I wrote off as a mistake ended up saving me more than once. “The past two months have been the hardest of my life; barring my mom being sick. Except for one thing— Dom. When I gave in to him for a second time it didn’t take me long to realize that by forcing myself to avoid how he made me feel was only hurting both of us. Turns out he’s everything I needed and what I wanted.”

“So he just proposed?” Mia asks.

I tilt my head to the side thinking about that day. For the first time since I got here, everyone stops with the questions and listens while I recount how the non-proposal-proposal happened.

Exhaustion is etched in the lines of Dom’s handsome face, in the set of his dark eyes and the slump of his shoulders. His golden brown strands are a mess because he’s been tugging at his hair for hours as we sit side by side at his kitchen table researching fertility clinics, the best surgeons, insurance, trying to line up his calendar with my cycle, everything. The one thing we haven’t talked about, that’s at the front of my mind, is how I’m going to do this without giving up my dreams.

One thing that is clear, this is going to be expensive without insurance coverage. I almost broke at the stress in his voice when the topic of medical proxy came up.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

He’s been checking on me all day, staying strong while I fall apart, but right now he’s quickly fraying and I can’t blame him. It’s a lot; more than he should have to deal with, but I don’t dare tell him that.

Dom pushes his chair back and takes my hands. “No, I’m not. I’m trying really fucking hard to be, but I’m not.” His voice trembles as he voices his truth. “And I need to say something. You’re probably not going to like it. You’re going to think I’m nuts, but I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I already think you’re nuts.” I try for a joke, but the spirit just isn’t there.

“Marry me.”

That’ s it, two words that change everything. I blink back at him, stunned, wondering if I misheard him.

“What?” I choke out.

“Everyone will think we’re crazy, but I don’t care. I’ve been calling you my future wife behind your back for a year. Let me take care of you. Give me the peace of mind of knowing no matter what, I’ll be able to support you in every way.”

“You’re right. That is crazy.” So why does my heart skip at the idea? “You shouldn’t do this because you’re scared.”

“Baby, scared doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m fucking terrified. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is what I want. The thought of you getting sick—” The fear in voice tears at my heart. “You are what I want. Life is short as it is. I want every moment I get with you, and I don’t want to wait just because people might question our decision. Think about it. What do you want out of this life? Tell me I’m not there when you picture yourself and a year from now, five years from now, ten? If it’s not me there with you, I’ll drop it and just cover all the costs.”

It makes so much sense when he says it that way. I bite my lip, weighing the pros and cons in my mind, picturing my future. Every single image I conjure he’s front and center, right there with me.

“Let me help you keep your dreams alive while we face this together,” he says, again.

“Okay.” The fear that should be there given the circumstances is missing—gone for the moment. And I know it’s because I’ve fallen hard for this man. Even though I fought it with everything in me, he owns my heart.

When I’m done, they all stare at me, blinking back tears of their own. “Now, are any of you comfortable with needles? Because I’m going to need some help, I don’t think I can give myself the shots I need later.”

Pinks and orange paint sky, the sun dipping below the horizon when we move inside to watch the game. There’s no way I can administer the medications I need myself, but it feels like an invasion having anyone but my husband do it after everything we’ve shared the last few weeks .

Still, I let Lilah hold my hand while Poppy gives me the shots. Mia and Willa do their best to distract me with commentary about the game. The Bandits are losing terribly to Atlanta.

Frustration twists my husband’s normally cheerful face into a grimace as he sits on the bench, dressed in team warmups instead of his uniform, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his arms folded over his chest.

Normally I’d be gawking over the way his biceps strain against the dark material of his sweatshirt, but all I can focus on is how miserable he looks. The game ends in a Bandits loss and all I want to do is teleport home so I can video chat with my husband. To make sure he’s okay the same way he always does for me.

Ronnie’s waiting for me, paws clicking against the wood floor as she dances around my feet excitedly. “I know, girl,” I tell her, dropping to my knee to scratch behind her ear. “Let’s get you outside so I can talk to your dad.”

The breeze blowing in from the mountains swirls my curls around my face and I push them back, watching and laughing into the darkness as Ronnie does sprints back and forth across the yard before she slows, circling her favorite spot and doing her business.

Like her dad, she’s been all over me for the last two weeks, like she can sense I need her more now. I don’t need to look behind me as I climb the stairs to know she’s on my heels. It’s where she always is now, her cold, wet nose brushing against my calf, so I don’t forget she’s there if I need her.

Even when I silently undress in the bathroom, the tub filling with hot water, my phone waiting for Dom to call, she’s laying in the doorway with her head on her paws watching me. “You’re the sweetest voyeur ever.” I chuckle at my own joke as I slip below the surface of the water.

Water clings to the ends of my hairs as I let the warmth sink in, soaking away the constant sting around my belly button from the daily shots.

Only seven more. Every day is a countdown to the egg retrieval.

My phone rattles against the tile as it rings with the call I’ve been waiting for. I answer on FaceTime, careful to angle the phone so it doesn’t reveal too much in case he’s not alone.

“Fuck, Baby, I miss you.” My husband sighs. “Do you always answer your phone naked, or was that just for me?”

“Only ever for you,” I answer, distracted. One of those biceps I noticed earlier flexes as he leans back against his headboard tucking his arm under his head. This time I can’t tear my eyes away because my husband is shirtless and the serious look on his face makes this water feel like it’s boiling.

He looks like I felt all those times when I was about to implode and I came to him for help, for distraction, for him. Because whether or not I realized it, the force that pulls us together was always at play. We never had a choice in the matter. The game of cat and mouse we played for the last year was always going to end with us together.

“Right answer.” His voice is rough and my blood heats at the way he looks at me, his eyes dark. I reach out, turning the water to cool, and cup some in my hand to run over my chest and neck.