Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Truth be told, it was good to see Elle today and to hash out our issues. I’m not dumb in thinking things will change between us, because I know they won’t. She is who she is, and I am who I am. We’re like oil and water, we like each other but don’t mix well. Which just really sucks because I love her. I’ve loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her, without knowing who she was.
The computer screen blurs, and I find myself crying once again. It happens every time I think of Elle and what could’ve been. Part of me thinks the smart thing to do would be to take her back but doing so doesn’t solve the issues around us. And taking her back now makes me look like I need to depend on her and makes her look like she only came back because I was sick. Neither of us need that kind of pressure.
My phone rings and when I glance at the screen, I see my doctor’s name and number. My heart drops to the floor and stays there. I swallow hard and my shaky finger presses answer and then hits the speaker button. “He . . .” I stop and clear my throat. “Hello?”
“Ben? This is Dr. Dowling. The surgeon had a cancelation and I’d like to move your surgery up to this Thursday.”
Do I want to ask why someone would cancel surgery? Did his patient die? Miraculously recover?
“Um . . . okay?” Thursday is two days away. The day after tomorrow, I’m going to be cut open and have parts of me removed.
“Excellent. I’ll have the nurse send over your pre-op instructions.” He hangs up, but I have questions. Mostly, why?
Why me?
I head out to the living room to tell my mom the date of my surgery has been moved and find it somewhat clean. Thankfully, they’re still working, and I decide against interrupting them. I guess my little tirade hit them where it counts. Before I can retreat to my office, Elle walks back in. She stares at me, the cleaning supplies on the floor, and then makes eye contact with my mother. I expect a full-on fight, but Elle gives a small smile and then looks at me.
Her smile widens and my heart skips a beat, but then my brain reminds me that we’re not together and the little flutter I felt is probably anxiousness because of the situation I’m in. Elle motions for me to follow her down the hall. She turns into my office and waits for me before closing the door.
“I didn’t expect you to come back.”
“Yeah, I figured. I almost didn’t, but I’d gone out to my parents to see them.”
I knew it.
“I should’ve asked you first if it was okay to tell them about what’s going on.” Elle wrings her hands together. I should let her know it’s okay, but I sort of like watching her squirm. She’s usually so confident, I feel like right now, she’s second-guessing herself and I can see the remorse in her eyes. “I told them. I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked—”
“Elle,” I finally stop her. “I had a feeling you were going to go see your parents.”
“You did?”
“Yes,” I say with some laughter. “I know you better than you know yourself. I also knew you’d tell them, and honestly, I’m glad you did because I don’t know if I could look at your parents and tell them what’s going on. They’ve always treated me like family.”
“Which brings me to the next thing I have to say.”
“Should I be worried?”
Elle eyes me, and I’m officially scared. “Mom says she will be by, which means she’s going to bring the entire grocery store with her.”
I glance toward the door and think about Katelyn walking in and seeing the mess my family has made. “I made a request for someone to come out and clean. Hopefully they get here tomorrow. At least my mom and Brad are cleaning.”
Elle nods. “Another thing. I know you have your oncologist, but I was doing some research—”
“Why?” I interrupt her.
“Why? Because you deserve the best.”
“The doctor I have is approved by my insurance,” I tell her.
“I don’t care about your insurance if he’s not the best. I have the money—”
“Elle, you can’t buy a cure or pay to make this go away. I have cancer. I have to let science do its thing.”
She sighs and sits down at my desk. “Quinn said I shouldn’t try and pay for things. I can’t help it. I want you to have the best of the best and sometimes it takes money. What if your surgeon . . .” Elle picks up the pamphlet about sperm harvesting off my desk. “Ben, what’s this?”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
“Did you do this?”