Chapter Twenty-Seven

Two Weeks Later…

Waiting for Dr. Forester was excruciating. Whitney checked the clock on the wall again as she paced the hospital room.

“Your pacing is driving me crazy,” Lia said through the laptop Zoom connection. She’d gone back to New York a few days before, unable to take any more leave from work, but she’d insisted they connect her in for this appointment.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Whitney said. “I just can’t sit still. What’s taking him so long?” Her body had accepted the bone marrow transplant, and the day before, Dr. Forester had sent her for more tests to see if the new hemoglobin was producing healthy blood cells. Keeping her emotions intact was a challenge, and she refused to get her hopes too high yet, but she was feeling better.

Better than she had in more than a year. Her eyesight wasn’t perfect, and the damage done was irreversible, meaning she’d be wearing glasses from now on to correct her vision, but her body aches had disappeared, the headaches were a rare occurrence, and the swelling in her joints had gone down. She’d gained weight, and the dark circles under her eyes had disappeared. She looked and felt like a new person. She’d been sick and struggling for so long, she’d forgotten what healthy felt like.

Granted, she was under less stress not being at work and having everyone dote on her hand and foot the last two weeks. That had to be having an impact as well. She’d almost gotten used to being taken care of.

Almost.

“I’m sure he will be here soon. But seriously, Lia’s right—the pacing is annoying,” Sarah said, flipping through a magazine so fast, there was no way she was seeing anything on the pages.

Whitney reluctantly sat. The pacing was making her dizzy.

“Here he comes,” Jess said from her perch in the doorway where she’d been waiting. She hurried into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Everyone, look casual.”

Whitney laughed. God, it was good to have them there with her. If the news was good, they’d celebrate it together. And if it was bad…they’d get through that, too.

“Hello, hello,” Dr. Forester said, closing the door behind him.

Good mood…good sign? Closed door…bad news?

“Hi, Dr. Forester,” Whitney said. “I brought in moral support.”

“Perfect. I’m glad everyone’s here. Good to see you, Lia. How are you feeling?” he asked, peering through the computer screen.

“Feeling great.” Lia waved a hand as though to say, Get on with it. “Give it to us straight—did the transplant work?”

Whitney could hear the nervousness in the other woman’s voice. They all wanted positive news that day, but she sensed Lia needed it almost as much as she did. The last few weeks as she’d gotten stronger and healthier, her mindset had also continued to change, and her hopes had risen for a chance to live her life better.

She hadn’t heard from or seen Trent. He was respecting her wishes. But she did miss him more and more each day. He’d never been far from her thoughts, and she regretted pushing him away, but she hadn’t known what else to do. Her heart and mind had been conflicted and she’d needed to finally prioritize her health above all else, focus on getting better.

Dr. Forester nodded. “Yes, it did.”

Relief caused Whitney’s shoulders to sag as she fell back against the pillows on the bed.

“Thank God,” Jess said.

Sarah reached into her oversize purse and produced a bottle of champagne. “Too soon?” she asked as the doctor shot her a look. “We’ll wait until you leave,” she said, tucking it away again.

Whitney laughed. Her friends were the perfect brand of ridiculousness when she needed it most. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t over yet. Nothing was ever that simple. “Okay, so what does it mean? Will I still need medication? A future transplant?” Her body was producing healthy blood cells now, but for how long? She was afraid to get too optimistic.

“You’ll need your anti-rejection drugs a little longer, and I want you in my office every three months for routine bloodwork.” He pointed to Jess, Sarah, and Lia. “You three will remind her?”

“Yes, sir,” Jess said.

Sarah saluted her agreement.

“Scheduling it into my Outlook right now,” Lia said.

In the past, having babysitters would have irritated Whitney, but she was so fortunate to have this new chance at life that she didn’t mind.

“But as long as you reduce your stress level and don’t ignore any symptoms, there’s no reason to think you’ll require another transplant.”

“So I’m cured?” Was that possible? She’d read about children being able to have the disease cured from a transplant, but the research on adults was still inconclusive. They were still researching alternative methods. Though she knew how rare bone marrow transplants in adults were, so maybe she’d really just been extremely fortunate.

She wouldn’t forget that or take it for granted.

“Not exactly cured, but better,” her doctor said. “And if your body continues to produce healthy cells…who knows?” He smiled.

“But I’ll have to reduce my stress at my job.”

“As I said, you’ll need to take some time off…or consider a new position.”

Darn, she’d been hoping he’d changed his mind. But that was okay. She’d figure it out. Time off wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“The pace you were keeping before was no doubt what triggered the symptoms to start appearing in the first place.”

She swallowed hard. It would be tough walking away from a career she loved. But she’d made a promise to herself to do whatever was necessary to live a long and full life.

“Consider yourself hired as my marketing manager of events at the B&B until you decide what to do career-wise,” Sarah said, producing the champagne bottle again.

Whitney smiled her appreciation.

The doctor shook his head. “Fine. Go ahead. But don’t tell anyone I said it was okay,” he said. Then, touching Whitney’s shoulder, he smiled. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Thank you, Dr. Forester.” She paused. “Um…what about children? If my cells continue to be healthy…” She had to know. It was the part of having this disease that crushed her the most. If her health continued to be okay, if her body continued producing healthy cells, could she potentially have kids someday?

“Anything’s possible. Let’s take it day by day, okay?”

It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either, and her heart filled with the tiniest bit of hope. She smiled through tears as she nodded. “Okay.”

“Bye, ladies,” the doctor said, leaving the room.

The second the door closed behind him, Sarah popped the cork on the champagne bottle.

“I’ve got mine, too,” Lia said, holding up a tiny bottle to the computer camera.

“To friendship,” Jess said as Sarah handed them plastic hospital glasses filled with the bubbly liquid.

To second chances. To hope.

“To friendship,” Whitney whispered.

…

“Next round’s on the house!” Trent yelled across the crowded bar that evening as he received the text from Jess that said Whitney’s appointment had gone well.

Angel sent him a surprised look. “Trying to go out of business? The place is packed.”

“Whitney’s transfer went well. Doctor says she’s going to be okay,” he said, his hand trembling on a whiskey bottle as he poured three shots and waved his bar manager and bouncer toward the bar. Despite everything they had going on between them, they’d put it all aside and had been a source of comfort for him the last two weeks. He hadn’t seen or talked to Whitney while she was recovering, as per her wishes. But he’d thought of her every second of every day for the last two weeks, and he hoped there would be an opportunity to talk to her…reconnect…tell her everything… He was afraid of getting his hopes up for a chance at a future together, but he couldn’t help it.

Now that she was better, maybe she’d have a change of heart? If she could deal with the new situation he found himself in.

“To Whitney,” he said, raising his shot glass high into the air.

Max and Angel looked as happy and relieved as he was as they all clinked glasses and tossed the alcohol back.

He reread the text from Jess several times. Whitney was going to be okay. It meant some life changes, but at least she was going to get better.

Now, he just had to hope he could be a part of the new life changes. And that the love of his life could accept his.

…

“Knock, knock, can I come in?”

Whitney zipped her bag as Scott entered the hospital room. “Hi,” she said, surprised to see him there. She hadn’t spoken to him since her accident, but Mayor Rodale had sent flowers from the office, wishing her a speedy recovery.

She had no idea where her career stood in light of everything, but her main focus right now was getting better. She was leaving the hospital that day with renewed hope and a different outlook on life.

Scott extended a small potted cactus toward her. “For you.”

“This is…different.” Cards, flowers, chocolates were customary—what was the significance of a thorny plant?

“You’re a workaholic, I assumed anything other than a cactus would require too much attention and would probably die.”

She laughed harder than she had in weeks, not even caring about the mild pain it caused to her still-healing ribs. She was feeling better, and each day she found new strength and a reason to find happiness. Today it was the cactus. “I think you’re holding out too much hope for the cactus,” she said, but unfortunately, she knew her eighteen-hour workdays had come to an end. She couldn’t keep up the pace anymore. Not at the risk of her health.

And if that meant Mayor Rodale let her go when she put in the request for an additional month’s leave, then she’d have to learn to be okay with that. She’d land on her feet. She always did.

Scott shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. He looked nervous when he spoke. “So, I’m not going to be your assistant anymore,” he said.

Her heart rose into her throat. She’d expected this. She’d overheard the conversation between them at the office, and she’d been away from work for a month; it was to be expected that Scott would move into her job. But she’d assumed they’d wait until she was at least out of the hospital before firing her. She cleared her throat. “Because you’re taking my job. Mayor Rodale sent you here to let me go.”

He frowned. “What? No. Shit, Whitney—you think I’d fire you while you’re barely out of a hospital bed?”

Her cheeks flamed. “But you are planning to?” Weren’t they? “I mean, that’s what you meant about not being my assistant anymore. Right?”

He shook his head. “I’m planning to run for mayor.”

Her jaw dropped. Ahhh, that’s what they had been talking about. Changes…replacement. Not for Whitney. For Mayor Rodale.

“Oh my God. That’s such a relief,” she said, sagging back toward the pile of pillows. Embarrassed by her wrong assumptions but definitely relieved.

“You really thought I was after your job?”

“Yes!”

He laughed. “That’s why you were being ‘mean boss’ all the time? I thought you just didn’t like me.”

More embarrassment crept up her neck. “Sorry about that. You just impressed me…and intimidated me,” she said, the truth hard to admit.

“Well, ditto.”

His smile was kind and sincere, and she felt like a fool for thinking the worst. She touched the tiny spikes on the cactus and slowly glanced up at him. “So…you’ll be my boss now.”

He nodded. “Yep. If I win, which should be fairly easy since no one else is running so far.”

She slapped his arm. “You don’t have to gloat.”

“Sure I do. Payback will be fun,” he said with a wink.

“Just so you know, I’m going to need more time off to recover. And when I do come back, I won’t be able to keep up the frantic pace and schedule.”

Scott waved a hand. “I’d take you at fifty percent over someone else at a hundred and ten any day.”

A warmness filled her with a sense of gratitude. “Thanks, Scott.”

“Get better, okay? And take care of that cactus,” he said with a wave as he left the room.

Whitney released a deep breath when she was once again alone. Her job was secure if and when she could return to it. All her worry and apprehension over it had been for nothing.

Grabbing her coat and personal belongings, she left the hospital room, ready to take on this new chapter of her life. Forever grateful that there was one.