Page 31 of Healing You
Pain spiked in his heart. He hated seeing those tears. Hated that he was the bearer of bad news here. Moving beside her, he pulled his chair over and sat, putting his hand over top of hers. “Basically, cancer is a tricky bitch. And it'll start to recognize the medicines we're using and possibly adapt to survive despite the drugs.”
Yvonne nodded, comprehension relaxing her features. “So you mix up which medicines you use and when?”
“Exactly. It's like a boxing match. You can't always use the same sequence of punches, otherwise your opponent will know how and when to block.”
With closed eyes, she inhaled a shaky breath, and Steve gave her the time she needed to calm herself. His thumb moved in small strokes over the back of her silky hand until she finally opened her eyes, looking back to him. “Well, I've heard that you're the Evander Holyfield of cancer. So let's knock this bitch down for the count, huh?”
Steve's laugh came out through his nose despite his efforts to keep his mouth tightly shut. “You've never seen a boxing match in your life, have you?”
“Hey!” she shouted, punching him in the shoulder. “I even had a reference!”
“That reference is, like, fifteen years old, and the only reason you know that man's name is from Friends.”
“You watched Friends?”
“You know what? Give me that coffee back—I take it back!” He reached across her and she jumped up, holding the coffee above her head as if he wasn't several inches taller than her. She squealed, and as he rushed to steal it from her, she started drinking it as fast as she could, sucking the coffee through the straw.
Steve had her cornered against the wall with nowhere to go, and he dove his fingers into her ribs, tickling, searching for that one spot—the mothership of tickle spots for Eve. Side of the ribcage, about six inches below her armpits.
She snorted, coffee dribbling down her chin, unable to control her laughter. Oh, Eve. It hasn't even begun yet.
Her body froze, and then jerked as her pealing laughter turned into screams. There it is! Her feet slid out from under her, but Steve caught her body weight, keeping her standing against the wall. “Oh, my God! Stop!” She managed to cry out through the laughter. “You can have it! You can have the coffee back!”
He stopped tickling, encasing her ribs instead, he stroked his thumbs up and down as she caught her breath. “I'll take this instead.” He ran his tongue along where some coffee had spilled on her neck. He kissed his way up to her ear and then moved his lips just above hers.
Her pink tongue darted out, swiping nervously against her pout. “I have coffee breath.”
“I don't care.” Steve leaned down and brushed his lips to hers. Her chest heaved with each breath, pushing against his chest, and it took every bit of restraint not to lift her on top of his exam table. But she wasn't ready for that yet. And he could wait. He'd waited thirteen years for her, and he'd wait another thirteen if he had to.
He pulled back from the kiss, careful to not allow his greed to overpower her needs and desires. And as much as he wanted to kiss her again, dive his tongue inside of her and taste her sweet honey, he didn't. Instead, he cupped her face, trailing his fingers over her jaw and cheekbones, and brushed her blond hair back from her forehead.
“I'm going to take Gatsby in the back and get his chemo drip started. I'll keep you posted, okay?”
He backed away from her, lifting Gatsby's leash. “Wait—can I come too? To sit with him?”
Steve's heart constricted. “Legally, I can't let you. There are chemo agents and bio-hazardous materials.”
“I don’t care about the risks.”
“Well, I do. But he won't be long—thirty minutes or so. Once the drugs are in his system, I still need him to stay so that I can observe him for a bit. I can bring you back to sit with him for that.”
“Someone will be with him, right?”
Steve nodded. “I'll see to it. Amanda can sit with Gatsby.”
Yvonne's hand shot to her mouth and she began nibbling the edge of her nail. “And you?”
Steve froze, his grip around the leather strap tightening. “I'll be right here. With you—if that's what you want.”
She gave a tight nod. “I'd like that.”
So would I, Eve. So would I.
1 6
F or three weeks, Steve and Yvonne had a schedule. Once a week, she'd arrive to find him waiting for her, an extra iced coffee in hand. Gatsby would be set up with Amanda in the back. Steve would wait with Yvonne. Once Gatsby's IV's were finished, they'd sit together in the exam room until the medicine had worked its way through and he seemed well enough to finish his recovery at home. But since that first week of chemo, they had barely touched, let alone shared another kiss. It had been all flirtations and heavy eye contact—but that was it. And with each visit, Yvonne found herself wanting more.
It had been going well. Insanely well, actually. As she pulled her car into the parking lot next to his practice, Gatsby sat patiently in his seat, looking out the window.
