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)
Harrison smiles. “I’ll let her know. I’ll be honest, I thought I was done with kids until one of them decides to bless us with grandbabies, but having this little guy around makes me realize how much I’ve missed having a baby around.”
“I’m sure Peyton and Noah are trying to make you and Liam grandpas.”
Harrison bends over with laughter. “Liam will lose his mind. He’s forever young. Look, I didn’t come here to talk about Elle or make excuses for her. I came to see you and to let you know, you’re not alone. This isn’t a fight you’re going to manage by yourself. I’m here. Katelyn’s here. We’re a family and we stick together. Katelyn fully expects your treatment schedule so she can sit with you while you get your chemo. She already started making a list of things you’re going to do together while you’re sitting there. I should warn you though, she’s dabbling in screenplay writing and I fear you might be her next victim.” Harrison cringes. “I mean her next test subject.” He laughs.
After our laughter dies down, I look at Harrison and say, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For showing me how to see things differently, especially when it comes to Elle. I sometimes forget not everything is black and white with her, and need a reminder,” I pause and take a deep breath. “Especially before it’s too late.”
15
ELLE
It’s been twenty-one days since Ben’s surgery, not that I’m counting or anything. The physical parts of Ben have healed, but the emotional scars, I fear will be there forever. At night, I often hear him crying in the shower, when he thinks no one can hear him. I want to comfort him, but I don’t know how. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a part of you in the way he has. Since his surgery, he’s gone to therapy, and the therapist suggested testicular prosthesis as it could help with Ben’s psychological fears of inadequacy. Of course, when he’s confiding in me about this, his brother overhears and thinks it’s some sort of joke, and teases Ben about getting fake balls. I hate Brad. He makes me angry to the point of tears, but I can’t do anything about it. He's here and, besides their mom, he’s Ben’s only family. As much as I want to tell him and Brenda to pound sand and get the hell out, I don’t. Deep down, I think they mean well, they just don’t know how to show it because they’ve never been a close family.
In the past three weeks, I’ve been back at work, trying to get Sinful Distraction’s marketing plan done for their new single, getting Talking Til Dawn into the studio, and having daily video conference calls with my dad and Plum. Plum is having the time of their lives, and their tour has been extended by two more weeks. Thankfully, my dad isn’t complaining, and Plum isn’t either. I’ve shared their numbers with them, and their song is slowly creeping to the top of the charts. Still, I feel like I owe it to them to be the best manager possible, but I don’t want to leave Ben. I guess I finally understand what Maverick meant when he said he wasn’t leaving his wingman even though the prize was right in front of him. Except, Ben’s my prize.
Our friendship is back on track. We still share a bed, but we did this while being friends. Each morning, I wake up on his chest, which was something we didn’t do as friends, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I suppose after today, our sleeping habits will have to adjust. I’ve read every possible article I can find about chemotherapy and radiation, and the side effects. Ben’s going to be tired, he’s going to bruise easily, he’s going to be sick, and he’s going to lose his hair. I haven’t broached the subject about his hair with him, but I know he’s concerned. Honestly, I fully expect the guys to band together and have a shave party. I can see my brother and Noah organizing something like this, and I think Brad would do it as well. He keeps his hair pretty short to begin with.
I leave the office and head toward the house in Malibu. I needed some time to myself this morning, and work is my escape. It’s the one place where no one judges me for wanting to work. Last week, I opened my laptop in the kitchen while Ben cooked—it was his idea, not mine—because I wanted his opinion on a couple of bands, and Brenda lost her shit, going on and on about how her boy is sick and all I care about are the demos in my inbox. I don’t know what she expects me to do. Yes, he has cancer, but we were in this limbo stage between surgery and chemo. He had to heal. And he needs to feel human again. If making dinner and talking about music makes him feel like himself again, I want to encourage him.