Page 10 of From Best Friend to Bride
Fred sighed and leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees while cupping the lower half of his face with his hands. “Does this have anything to do with Nana’s doctor’s appointment yesterday?”
I nodded, grabbing a cushion. I hugged it tightly to me, barely resisting the urge to bury my face into it. “It’s incurable. It’s spread too far. She can get treatment, but it’s only going to prolong her life.”
“Harry said that your mum told him she doesn’t want it.”
“Pretty much. She hasn’t made her final decision yet, but she said that’s her gut feeling. She would rather spend her remaining time making happy memories instead of being stuck in a hospital.”
Fred blew out a long breath, rubbing his hands through his hair. “Can you blame her? This is the third time she’s been faced with this illness, and she’s not exactly young anymore. Especially this time around.”
He was right. Her previous two battles with cancer had resulted in success from her side, a double mastectomy, and two mandala flower tattoos where her boobs once were.
Needless to say, we’d been quite shocked when she’d come home at the age of sixty-six and yanked up her t-shirt to show those off.
“No, I don’t blame her at all. I was upset when she told me that’s what she was leaning towards, but I do understand herfeelings.” I clutched the cushion a little tighter. “I just… She’s going to suffer no matter what, isn’t she?”
He smiled sadly at me. “Yes, she is. There’s no avoiding that. But if her choice is to suffer for two years with treatment or three months without, can you blame her for choosing the latter after how much she’s fought already?”
His words hit me right in the gut. He always knew exactly what to say to me, that giant bastarding pain in my arse.
My eyes stung with tears, and I squeezed them shut, burying my face in the cushion. Was this the third stage of grief? Bargaining? And if so, why was Fred the one brokering the damn deal over here?
“Ah, damn it, Deli.” Fred’s words came moments before the sofa cushion sank with his weight as he sat next to me. He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me tightly as he tucked my head beneath his chin. “Your elbow is digging into my stomach,” he mumbled.
“You’re the one who yanked me against you,” I said through my tears. “Why’d you have to make me cry?”
“You say it like I did it deliberately. Idiot.” He huffed into my hair. “Move your elbow.”
“Uff.” I shifted to tuck my elbow into my own side instead of his, resulting in me turning into him even more than before. “Happy now?”
“No. You’re crying, stupid.” Fred cupped the back of my head with his hand and slowly exhaled. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Well, you did.” I sniffed, pulling the cushion down and swiping my sleeve across my cheek. “If you’d just told me that you were back, we could have done this on the phone.”
“Lies. You’d have called me and demanded I come to your house.”
“Me? Who am I to order around an earl?”
“Like you’ve ever cared who I am.”
“It’s what makes me such a phenomenal friend. I’ll be here whether you’re a prince or a pauper.”
He laughed, relaxing his hold on me just a little. “How very considerate of you.”
Hmph.
What a brat.
“Go away.” I shoved at him, but he didn’t let me go. “Get off.”
“No. You’re still crying.”
Stupid eyes.
Stupid tear ducts.
Stupid stubborn man.
I wiped my eyes again and gave in, resting my head on Fred’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
