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The wire sticking out of her right breast was alien and intrusive. Helen couldn’t look away from it, sickly fascinated, her thoughts cloudy from the light sedative pumping through the IV attached to her forearm.
“This will guide us directly to the mass,” Dr. Chesley explained as the wire was inserted. “The surgeon will then remove the suspicious lump, as well as the surrounding tissue. Once we’re done, we’ll have you stay a little while longer to make sure you’re feeling okay, but you’ll be free to go home soon after. Do you have someone coming to pick you up?”
Helen nodded, her head wobbly on her neck. “A friend. He’s waiting for me to text him.”
“Great.” Dr. Chesley patted her knee. “Okay, let’s get you to the surgeon.”
Helen walked to the room where the biopsy was to take place in a foggy haze, everything out of focus and soft-edged. Her breast was frozen with local anesthetic and the procedure wasn’t painful, though she could feel tugging and pressure. She’d been arranged in such a way she couldn’t watch what was going on, even if she’d wanted to.
She allowed herself to float, her hazy thoughts drifting over the last couple of days. After sharing the bath with Nathan on Sunday evening, Helen had headed home with relief. The solitude of her own space was welcome after the intensity of recent emotions, and she’d fallen into bed early, sleeping solidly through the night.
She waited until Nathan had left for work before leaving to cover her shift at Golden Dragon. It was cowardly, but after her meltdown she needed a little longer before facing him. While he’d been nothing but supportive, comforting a weeping woman was more than a sex buddy should be expected to endure.
By that evening, however, the urge to be with him was stronger than any awkwardness, so a few minutes after his normal arrival time she sent him a text.
Come for dinner? Hamburgers on the grill.
She waited several nail-biting minutes—long enough to begin second-guessing her invitation—before the three dots next to Nathan’s name blinked into life.
Working late tonight. Won’t be home until after eight.
She stared at the screen, brow furrowed. What did that mean? He hadn’t said no, but it wasn’t a yes, either. She nibbled her lip, then figured she might as well go all in. That’s fine, I can wait.
His reply to that had been instantaneous. I’ll bring the wine.
It was closer to nine by the time he climbed the stairs to the back deck where Helen reclined on the outdoor sofa. Her anxiety level had ratcheted back up, causing her to check her phone compulsively for a cancellation text. Unable to speak from relief, she sent him a cool, casual smile while her pulse trip hammered in her throat.
“I’m so sorry. I’m slammed putting the Mount Morgan proposal together.” He bent to kiss her cheek and then straightened, offering the bottle of malbec he carried. “I brought your favourite. Forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” She rose to her feet and found herself nose to chin with Nathan. His gaze sharpened and she imagined him shaking off the last of his work worries. “I assume you want a glass, too?”
“Definitely. Do you need help getting dinner ready, or would you like me to fire up the grill?”
“Grill, please. I’m starving.”
“I really am sorry. I should have said I couldn’t make it.”
His brow creased and she gave into the impulse to smooth it with her fingertips. “It’s fine, honestly. I understand how important this project is for you. And I’m a big girl. If I wanted to eat sooner, I would have.”
He clasped her hand and brought her fingers to his mouth, sucking gently on the tips. “I’ll make it up to you.” The low timbre of his voice rolled up her arm directly to her belly.
“And I’ll let you.” Breathless and dizzy, she stepped away. If she let him touch her more, dinner would be even later. “But first, let’s eat.”
Afterward they settled on the outdoor sofa and it felt entirely natural for Helen to curl her legs up and lay her head on his shoulder.
“Feeling better?” he asked, his arm encircling her, his fingertips tracing a featherlight pattern on her bicep.
“I’m stuffed. I shouldn’t have had that extra helping of potato salad.”
“I’m not talking about dinner.”
“Oh.” She’d wondered if he would mention her freak out and wasn’t sure how to feel now that he had. “I am. Thank you for asking.”
“No problem. That’s what friends are for.” His sigh whistled out, riffling the short strands of hair on the top of her head. “Don’t be afraid to ask me for help, Helen. Anything you need.” He kissed the crown of her head.
Ask me for help. If only it were that simple.
Then Helen remembered it was that simple. She could ask Nathan for help because he was already leaving, so she didn’t have to worry that it was her neediness that had shoved him away.
Still, it took a concerted effort to make her lips and tongue form the words she needed to say. “There is something you could do for me.” She kept her head on his shoulder so she couldn’t see his face. This was hard enough without making eye contact. “I’m not allowed to drive myself home after the biopsy. I could always take a taxi, but—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Just tell me when and where.”
“I have to be at the hospital by eight on Wednesday. I don’t know how long I’ll be, so I’d have to text you.”
He didn’t speak for a moment, and then his shoulder raised and lowered, joggling her lightly. “Consider it a date.”
Helen blinked sleepily as Dr. Chesley came into her field of view.
“All done.”
She struggled to pull her into focus, disoriented from the sedative and her wandering thoughts. “Really?”
“Really really.” The other woman smiled, her mouth hidden by her mask but her eyes crinkling. “We’ll get you into recovery in a minute and you should be good to go soon.”
“How does it look? Did you get everything?”
With typical medical reticence, Dr. Chesley gave a noncommittal answer. “We’ll know more once the pathologist has a look. Until then, you need to rest and recover. Be a patient patient.”
Helen giggled. “I only think that’s funny because of the drugs.”
“The waiting can be difficult. Find something to occupy your mind, or it will feel like forever.”
Helen didn’t think anything would fit that bill, but she nodded agreeably. Despite the trouble it had caused, she was glad Nathan knew what was going on. At least she had someone to talk to, to share her anxieties with.
She’d better not get used to it. He wouldn’t be around forever, not with the promotion looming in his future. For now, though, she’d take what she could get.
––––––––
NATHAN FORCED HIS CONCENTRATION back to the print copy of his Mount Morgan proposal. He was going over it for the fifth time, and he still kept finding things he wanted to change. He didn’t care. He was determined it would be perfect. It had to be.
His eyes were drawn once more to the clock in the corner of his computer screen. Helen hadn’t texted yet, and he was beginning to worry something had gone awry.
Who was he kidding? He’d been worried all day.
Helen had been determinedly cheerful this morning on their way to the hospital, and he’d done his best to match her positive energy. He’d offered to go in with her, and wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or disappointed when she’d politely but firmly rejected the idea.
“This is no big deal,” she’d said, pecking him on the cheek as she opened her door. “A simple, quick procedure. You’ve got more important things to do than waste your time lurking in the waiting room. I’ll text when I’m ready to be picked up. Go, get prepped for tomorrow. It’s going to be the sale of your life.”
He’d smiled, as she’d intended, but it had slipped off his face the moment she was out of sight. At the office, he’d holed up to put the last touches on the proposal, but despite knowing it was the most important one he’d ever worked on, he’d had a difficult time focusing. His thoughts had been perpetually drawn to what Helen was going through at any given moment. He had a good idea of what the procedure entailed, and while it didn’t sound pleasant, he knew it was much less invasive than any future treatments might be.
As he well knew from Wanda’s experience.
With a twinge of guilt, he couldn’t help comparing Helen’s fierce independence with Wanda’s terrified vulnerability. She had clung to him with all her might, physically and emotionally, and while he couldn’t blame her, it had exhausted him, wrung him out. Not that he’d ever complained about her neediness, to her or anyone else. He wasn’t that much of a jerk. But while the embers of his resentment had been doused, they still flared up at unexpected moments.
Like now.
He shifted in his seat, tossing down the thick sheaf of pages he’d been perusing and rubbing his temples. He didn’t resent Helen. He didn’t. She hadn’t asked him to give anything more than he’d offered. She had sent him to work, telling him to concentrate on his career and not worry about her.
As if that were even possible. If he were honest, he was a basket case. And this was the easy part. What if the tumour wasn’t the benign cyst she insisted it was? Could he accept the promotion and the move to the Island it demanded if Helen were wrong?
The idea of abandoning her was a black cloud tainting what should have been one of the most exciting times in his professional career. He shuddered at the word his subconscious had dredged up. Abandon. Is that really what his inner self thought he’d be doing if he accepted the promotion should it be offered?
His phone alerted to a text. Relieved to put aside his discombobulating thoughts, he snatched it up from the desk. Helen. I’m ready. Meet you at the main doors.
She had been adamant she just needed the ride, that once she was home she’d be fine on her own and he could return to work. He scanned his mental To Do list—much of which still needed to be done, given the little he’d accomplished. But even as he did so, he picked up his desk phone to call Melanie. She answered after one ring.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m heading out for the rest of the day.”
“Everything okay?” She sounded concerned, but not disapproving. “Is the proposal done?”
“Everything’s fine. A friend needs my help. I have a couple more tweaks, but I’ll work on them at home. I’ll email you the final version as soon as I can.” As his supervisor, Melanie had a vested interest in seeing him make the sale, and had also been a great sounding board for his ideas.
“Okay,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”
He heard the faint question in her tone and answered firmly. “You bet. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” As he disconnected, he admitted he’d miss working for Melanie. She was a very hands-off manager, trusting her staff to do their jobs, letting the numbers do the talking. Moving up the ladder didn’t mean he wouldn’t have a boss to answer to. Now he came to think of it, Melanie had occasionally ranted uncomplimentary things about the man Nathan would be responsible to should he get the new position.
He texted Helen to tell her he was on his way, his shoulders lighter than they had been in days. He was doing the right thing, putting work on the back burner to take care of his friend. My lover, he corrected himself.
It felt more than right. It felt like the only thing he could do.