Page 107 of Riding the Edge

Chapter Thirty-two

Al didn’t have to say a word for me to know things didn’t go as expected with Jack, it was written all over his face. I knew there was nothing I could say or do that would mend the rift between the two men and instead of nagging him to share his frustrations, I decided to take his mind off things.

After all, I’m the queen of distractions.

Lauren and Riggs left the boys with us and Al and I took them to the Staten Island Zoo. There is no better therapy than the kind found in the curious minds of two wild little boys. By the time night rolled around, we took the boys home and Al seemed more at ease. It became clear spending time with family and making memories was the cure to heal all and so, the days that followed were spent doing just that. There was no talk of him taking the gavel or any mention of the club for that matter. Doom still lurked but with the mastectomy on the horizon, we made a pact to keep Satan’s demons at bay.

Now, it was the evening before my surgery and I couldn’t sleep. Since the diagnosis, I’ve been so occupied with my kids and Al that I haven’t allowed myself a chance to grieve. I know what you’re thinking—she’s not dead, how can she be grieving. You’re right, I’m not dead but I am in mourning.

A loss is still a loss and I’m losing a piece of my anatomy.

After tomorrow, I’ll be a changed woman. A woman who will stuff her bra until she gets implants. A woman who will never feel the sensation in her breasts again. A woman who will have to undress in front of her man and turn her back because she can’t bear to have him see her in such a state.

The world calls us survivors.

They say we’re strong, wear pink and come up with clever slogans like, fight like a girl.

The world isn’t there the night before your surgery.

They’re not there when you’re alone in the bathroom, peeling off your dressing and staring at your body.

You can have all the support in the world, the love of a good man and children who adore you and you will still feel alone.

You will still feel sorry for yourself.

You will still wonder why.

You will still question your faith and your decisions.

“Lady,” Al murmurs next to me. “You’re crying.”

You will cry.

You will grieve.

Brushing my tears away with the backs of my hands, I turn to him. His handsome face is etched with concern and my heart swells at the sight. All you young girls reading this story, I want you to pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you. One day you’re going to come across a man who will worship the ground you walk on. It might not happen when you’re in your twenties or even in your thirties. Maybe he’ll come to you in your forties like mine came to me. The point is, don’t spend your life worrying about whether you’ll find him. You will. He’ll come storming into your life when you need him most and he will cherish you.

Be patient.

Enjoy life and stop wasting your dreams on half-assed men who aren’t worth your time.

Remember every woman deserves a man who will kiss her like he means it and hold her like it’ll kill him if he lets go.

Not every man is a cheat and they all don’t lie.

There’s a man waiting to wipe the tears caused by the men who came before him. He’ll be your strength when yours falters and he’ll stand tall when life throws you a curve ball. A man who will proudly tell the whole world you are his.

His survivor.

His love.

His everything.

He’ll love you like you’ve never been loved before and will show you every single day. It’ll be in his touch and the way he looks at you.

“Maria—”

Lifting my finger to his lips, I silence him.

---