Page 97 of Mercy
“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even know I had cancer. I only went to the doctor to get more birth control, so I could keep having sex with you without getting pregnant and now I’ll never get pregnant because you're making me have the surgery.”
I rub my hands over my face to conceal the laughter that’s threatening to bubble up. My beautiful girl is being ridiculous.
“Should I also be credited with saving your life then?”
“I hate you.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Come here, baby girl.”
“No,” she looks down at her knees.
“It wasn’t a request. Get over here, now.”
She lets go of her knees, crawls over to me, and I pull her into my arms.
“Good girl,” I kiss her on the forehead.
“You’re going to break up with me.”
I sigh, “Why would you even think that? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
“The sex is going to be horrible with me after the surgery, Liam. You love how wet I am for you, all the time, and I’ll be dry as a fucking bone.”
She’s not wrong, and I will miss it. But I won’t leave her, I will never leave her.
“Baby girl, I love having sex with you. But there is more to us than sex. I will never leave you. I’ll buy a fucking lubricant company, if I have to.”
Laying her head against my chest, she shivers with the after-effects of her sobs, “What else will happen? I don’t know much about menopause.”
“You’re going to be emotional for a while, but we’re going to find you the very best doctor to help you manage your hormones. There’s a doctor I met at a conference that specializes in bio-identical hormones which are closer to the hormones you have now than the synthetic garbage. I’ll talk to him.”
“What else?” she asks, wrapping her arms around me.
“Hot flashes, mood swings, insomnia, fatigue, night sweats. That’s all I can think of, but I’m not a gynecologist, baby.”
“I know it might sound stupid to you, but I’m really scared.”
I cup her face with my hands and pull her head back to see into her eyes, “Baby girl, no. I don’t think you’re stupid. You are entitled to feel scared or any other emotion.”
She closes her eyes and then opens them again, “I don’t hate you,” she whispers.
I can’t stop laughing, “Oh baby girl, I know that.” Pulling back from her slightly, I say, “Why don’t you go get a glass of wine while I take a shower.”
She looks at me with her splotchy red face, “I need to wash my face if that’s okay.”
Kissing her on the top of her head, I say, “Of course, let’s go.”
We stand up, and I squeeze her ass, “Even with tears on your cheeks, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
That gets me a bright smile that warms me from the inside out. I love her smile.
She goes into the bathroom to clean her tear-stained face, and I walk into the kitchen to pour my girl a glass of wine. I leave it on the table in the living room for her.
I nearly collide with her as she comes out of the bathroom, I grab onto her waist, “Go drink your wine, it’s in the living room. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
She pulls my shirt out of my pants and runs her fingers up my chest, inside my shirt, “Don’t take long, doctor. I need you.”
Running my hands through her hair, my lips turn into a slight smile, “While I shower, think about what you want. Whatever it is, it’s yours.”
