Page 64 of Sweet Nothings

There’s the truth of it. The only reason Lennon and I married in the first place was for his benefit. Mine only came later. For Roe. But his initial proposal was self-serving.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you I was sick,” I confess, shrugging. “I never had a husband who cared before.”

Lifting his free arm, he places his thumb on my lip, staring at his own finger as he traces my flesh. “Everyone has always assumed I’ve had a black heart, and I don’t care about anyone but myself. And after what you just told me about your marriage with David, I don’t blame you for not telling me. Your silence just worried me. That’s all.”

“Oh.” I nod, tucking my bottom lip under my teeth.

Lennon pulls his hand away. “But now you do,” he adds, lifting my chin.

“Now I do, what?”

“Have a husband that cares.”

My heart hammers away in my chest. I look at the mountain of medicine behind him and then into his eyes. I can’t help but smile.

“Are you going back to your office?” I ask , sniffing. The pressure behind my eyes and in my nose returns. Reality of my condition slowly creeps back in, the humming of my orgasm now completely gone.

“Fuck, no,” Lennon says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “This is the only place I need to be right now, Mrs. Harding.”

Wrapping his arm around me, he pulls me toward him until I’m pressed against his chest.

With heavy-lidded eyes, I read the lyrics tattooed below Lennon’s heart one last time and allow sleep to take hold, dragging me under.

NINETEEN

I don’t want to do this.

I can’t walk into that room and see her, knowing what I’ll see. I want to remember her with the sun in her hair and her fresh dirt-coated fingers. I want to remember her dancing among the flowers with the ocean crashing onto the shore behind her, singing along to her favorite Beatles song, Hey, Jude.

“She lost consciousness last night. We’ve seen episodes like this in cases such as hers. Sometimes the chemo does more damage to other organs in the body before it can eliminate the cancer,” the doctor explains. His words are muffled and suffocating. “Her housekeeper found her this morning and called the ambulance. Luckily, she kept breathing even though she fainted, but we haven’t been able to wake her since she was brought in. We believe she was left too long and there’s been some damage to her brain.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and wring my black tie around my fingers. I squeeze until my knuckles turn white.

“She’s named you as next of kin,” he tells me, almost as dryly as if he were ordering a cup of coffee.

I snap my head up, and the world crumbles under my feet.

“What?” I ask him, running my hand down my face. “What does that mean exactly?”

“It means you have to make a choice.”

“What choice?”

“The choice whether to keep her on life support or to let her go.”

“Let her go?” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. “What do you mean, let her go?” I’m genuinely confused. I don’t understand.

“We can discuss her condition further and you can weigh your decision, Mr. Harding,” he explains. “But ultimately, you will have to decide.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling like my body is going to implode.

I leave the doctor standing outside the room and push through the door. She’s lying on her back with her head turned to the side. The machine rhythmically beeps in the background—apparently the same machine that’s keeping her breathing.

Her head is turned toward me, but her eyes remain closed. A tube is connected to her mouth, pumping her lungs with oxygen. Her chest rises dramatically. Unnaturally. I swallow the heavy, thick lump in my throat, and with a shaky hand, I reach out for hers but stop when the door opens behind me.

Jude walks in. His hair is messy and his tie hangs loose around his neck. I narrow my eyes at him, wondering where the fuck he’s been.

“Where were you?” I yell, unable to keep my anger back. I know it isn’t him I’m truly angry at. I stand and face him, curling my hands into fists at my sides.

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