The Cruel and Beautiful Series Boxset

by A. M. Hargrove

  As we walk through the underground parking lot to get his car, I slyly ask, “You’re the doctor. Do your balls actually turn blue? You tell me if you have blue balls or not.”

  He takes my hand and places it on his cock. “Blue or not, I need to get you home now.”

  The ride is fast, but not fast enough. I consider giving him a blow job while he drive, but DC cops fill the streets with their vehicles and I don’t want to waste time explaining to an officer how I was looking for my contacts down his pants even though I don’t wear contacts.

  We barely make it inside the door of my apartment before Andy’s cups my face and kisses me so tenderly I begin to melt.

  “Cate, I don’t think I could ever love someone as much as I’m in love with you.”

  The intensity in his gaze has me paralyzed. I begin to open my mouth to speak, but he’s there with a fiery kiss that weakens my knees. His hands skate down to the buttons on my blouse and I’m almost ready to tell him to rip it off with how badly I want him inside me. I shrug out of my coat and toss it somewhere into the room as he makes quick work of divesting me of my top. When he releases the last of the buttons, he slowly pushes the shirt down my arms. When it reaches my wrists, he pulls the ends of the blouse together. Caged in, with my hands behind my back, I have no idea what he’s up to.

  “You stay right here while I worship you.”

  I feel the fabric tighten around my wrists right before he slides down the length of my body. His palms glide up my thighs, pushing up my skirt. Belatedly, I wish I’d worn garters tonight. Then again, I didn’t have plans to see him until after I got home.

  His heated breath skims my skin before I feel his tongue through the fabric of my thong. I lift a leg and lean back on the door to gain leverage to press myself against his eager mouth. He hooks a hand under my knee and settles it over his shoulder.

  When he pulls the fabric apart, leaving me exposed, my other legs gives out. I begin to slide down the door. He stops my progress by hooking my other leg over his shoulder. He moves forward, so my back is as close to flush with the door as can be with my hands in the way.

  “I need to touch you,” I call out.

  “In a minute,” he hurriedly says slipping a finger and curling it to stroke my g-bell.

  My legs begin to shake from the force of the orgasm building inside me.

  “Andy,” I breathe. “Don’t stop.”

  He slips another finger inside and finger fucks me until I explode around him. I’m boneless as he frees my hands. He lifts me in the air and carries me back to the bedroom.

  “Don’t leave me yet, Cate. I’m not done with you.”

  After I make contact with the mattress, I hear the rustle of fabric while I explore the back of my eyelids.

  “Cate,” he breathes, covering me with his magnificent body.

  “Please,” I beg.

  “Shit Cate.”

  “I need you, now. Make love to me.”

  There is no doubt in my mind I see stars as he slips into me. My back rises off the bed as it feels like heaven, like home. Nothing in so long has felt this right.

  “I love you,” I breathe as he begins to move.

  Something breaks in my chest as he drives into me with so much passion I feel his love in every stroke. A tear falls from my eye and I know there is no turning back. This man is mine and I am his.

  He doesn’t ask if I’m on the pill. And had I not been, I would be ready to make babies with him. When his name slips off my tongue, it surprises us both. I call him Drew as he climaxes on a growl of pleasure. My vision explodes with a million stars.

  We settle back on the mattress and he threads his fingers through mine. Tears slip out the corners of my closed eyes because my emotions are raw and I’ve admitted the truth I’d been holding back.

  Twenty-Six

  Past

  Coming back from our own little paradise is harsh. I shouldn’t complain because life is pretty damn good. We live in a fabulous home, Drew loves his fellowship and the attendings he works with, and my new job is great. I landed an entry-level auditing position with Ernst and Young. It’s not my dream job, but with my ambition and goals, I can see myself making partner one day, if not here, then another firm.

  Every day, though, I find myself daydreaming of our little villa on the sea, and how Monique and the rest of the staff spoiled us. The summer ends and fall is upon us before it barely registers.

  One day at my new job, a huge flower arrangement is delivered for me. I scratch my head, wondering if Drew is trying to apologize for something. But that’s silly because the man never does anything to piss me off. Then I open the card and feel my heart beat a little faster as it thumps a lot louder.

  Cate, Catelyn, My lovely wife,

  Happy Anniversary! Two years ago you agreed to go out on a date with me and you changed my life. Without you, I would be less than a man,

  because that fist-sized thing that beats in my chest, only beats because of you. I love all the pieces of you with all the pieces of me.

  Forever yours, Drew

  I hug his note to my chest and smile. Thinking back to that day, I laugh a little because I thought he was so old. He was twenty-seven then and I called him Smokin’ Hot. And he was. And still is.

  “Flowers, huh?” A voice says over my shoulder.

  I turn to see my boss, Joseph, standing there.

  “Yeah. They’re from my husband.”

  “He likes to spoil you, I see.”

  I beam. “He sure does.”

  Joseph smiles and then moves toward his office. I’m in a cubicle the size of a shoebox. There are about two dozen on this floor. When I stand, I have a perfect view of the cubicle sea.

  After Joseph leaves, I hear, “So, Drew sent you flowers. What’s the occasion?”

  It’s my cube neighbor, Nan. I like to call her Nosy Nan. She knows everything that goes on here, and then some. I hug Drew’s note tighter to my chest, afraid she’ll be able to read it with X-ray vision or something.

  “No occasion. He’s just attentive.”

  “If I could be so lucky,” she sighs.

  I wonder if her luck, or lack of it, has anything to do with the fact that she sticks her nose into everybody’s business. I can already hear Drew telling me to be nice, so I switch my thoughts back to the audit I’m working on.

  My phone buzzes. It’s Drew texting me.

  Drew: Happy Anniversary!

  Me: Thanks for the flowers. They’re magnifigorgeous.

  Drew: That’s not a word, Cate.

  Me: It is now.

  Drew: You like?

  Me: Nope. I LOVE!

  Drew: Score! How about dinner tonight? FIG?

  Me: Time?

  Drew: Right after work to save us a drive. 6:30?

  Me: Perf. LOVE YOU <3

  Drew: LOVE LOVE YOU!

  Dinner is awesome. But it always is at FIG, one of my favorite restaurants downtown. That night when we get home, I think the flowers were sent to seduce me, because Drew doesn’t even give me a chance to get in the house.

  He opens my car door, and kisses me. The silk blouse I wear magically disappears. My bra gets unhooked by the time we hit the door, and the kitchen counter becomes our bed. He doesn’t give me time to think, only feel. His hands and mouth are magic, but they always are. By the time we both come, our breathing sounds like we just ran home instead of drove.

  All of a sudden, Drew gets hit with a coughing spell. It’s unusual and I become alarmed. Of course, anything that happens to Drew alarms me. He could stub his pinky toe and I’d freak. He accuses me of being too overprotective, but that’s what happens when the man you love has been through a bout with cancer.

  He finally stops, but his eyes are watery and his nose runs. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, it was a wicked tickle in my throat. Maybe it’s ragweed allergies, or something.”

  I hope it’s the ragweed and not the or something. “Maybe. Want some water?” />
  “No, I’m good now.”

  It starts to happen off and on. Not a whole lot, but enough to send up a warning signal. It’s about three weeks after the first episode, and I say, “Do you think you should talk to your doctor?”

  He sighs. “My next round of scans is next week.”

  “Your next round of scans?”

  “Yeah. They always do a six-month follow up after everything. Mine are next week.”

  I swallow. “And you were going to tell me, when?”

  He stands and moves to sit next to me. He takes my hands and says, “I was going to tell you next week, Cate. I didn’t want you to get your panties… unders in a wad over this. It’s going to be fine.”

  “Drew, we’re in this together. I’m going with you.”

  I see him reach for patience. “Cate, all you’ll do is sit and wait.”

  “I don’t care. I’m going with you. I think you’re missing something out of this equation here. You plus me equals us. No arguing.”

  He sighs. “Okay.”

  “What kinds of scans?”

  “Bone and PET.”

  “What day?”

  “Wednesday.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell Joseph.”

  On Wednesday, we have the scans. The waiting is the worst. Only we find out really fast because of Drew’s position at the hospital. The news isn’t good. There’s a reason for the cough. We sit across from the head oncologist in Drew’s department. He shuffles the papers and looks up at us.

  “Drew, Cate, I’m sorry. You have mets to the right lung.”

  I don’t know what that means. “Mets to the lung?”

  Drew squeezes my hand. He sounds weary when he says, “It’s metastasized to my lung, Cate.”

  Fuck! The lung? “How did that happen? I thought it was gone?”

  The oncologist, Dr. Rosenberg, leans forward and says, “Unfortunately, Cate, it only takes one cell to break away and that’s what happened in Drew’s case.”

  “So now what?” I ask.

  “We have Drew up for our tumor board on Friday. Drew, do you want to attend?”

  “Yes, since it’s my treatment plan you’ll be discussing.”

  Dr. Rosenberg shifts in his seat, then glances at me.

  “Just say it. I’m in this as much as he is.”

  Dr. Rosenberg presses his lips together for a minute. “Drew, you and I have already had this discussion and I won’t sugarcoat anything with you. Cate, is that how you want things, too?”

  As much as it will hurt to hear, I say, “Yes.”

  “Okay. Drew’s type of cancer is more difficult to treat in his age group. Now that it’s metastasized, the odds of a cure have dropped even further. We are going to press ahead with everything we’ve got, but of course, part of his treatment will have to include another round of chemo and surgery. We’re not sure yet if we’ll add radiation. There is a possibility of some experimental drugs, but I’m not sure at this point, hence the tumor board on Friday.”

  My body feels numb and I can’t begin to imagine how Drew feels. Just a few weeks ago, everything seemed so great. How could it be so bad? Then I flashback to these same words I said, when his initial diagnosis first came about. I realize nothing’s fair in life. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

  Drew is quiet, as am I. Finally, Dr. Rosenberg breaks the giant iceberg of silence. “Do either of you have any questions?”

  “No,” I say stone-faced. The only question I want to ask is why can’t you cure my husband?

  Then he says to Drew, “I’ll see you Friday at seven.”

  We walk out and I’m not sure what to think. But Drew, my precious Drew, does it all for me.

  “Cate, look at me.” He stops and takes me into a small room of some kind. “It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

  My mouth works over a thousand things I want to say, but nothing comes out. He presses me into the hard wall of his chest and I wonder how something so ugly and horrific can be growing inside such a perfect human being.

  “I’m so scared, Drew. I don’t want to be. I want to be strong for you. Strong to carry you through this, but here I am, the biggest chicken shit on Earth.”

  “How can you not be scared? I’m scared, too. But we’re in great hands here.”

  “Should we go back to Indy?”

  He pulls my face away from him so he can look at me. “Listen up. At the tumor board on Friday, the team from Indy will be video conferenced in, along with some guru from Sloan-Kettering.” A coughing fit breaks into his conversation. When it ceases, he wipes his eyes and carries on, covering up the severity of it. My heart squeezes in fear. “I think Rosenberg is also tagging some guy from MD Anderson. I can’t get better care anywhere, Cate. I promise.”

  “Okay. If you’re good with it, so am I.”

  Several deep breaths later and we’re heading out to the car. My arm is wrapped around his waist hugging him tightly to my side.

  Friday rolls around and I wait to hear from Drew. The call doesn’t come until almost noon.

  “Sorry, babe. I was poked, prodded, questioned, my results were reviewed, and quite frankly I’m not sure I want to talk about it.” He sounds fatigued.

  “Want to wait until I get home?”

  “Yeah. Do you mind?”

  “No. As long as you snuggle with me.”

  “Always.”

  On the way home I pick up Drew’s favorite pizza and a six-pack of his favorite IPA beer. When I get home, he’s lying on the couch, asleep in the den, the TV on. I almost break down in tears looking at him, because right now, he looks so robust and healthy. I can’t imagine he has cancer in his lungs.

  Sitting on the couch next to him, I put my head on his chest and wrap my hand around his neck. I know it’ll wake him, but I don’t care. I don’t want either of us to ever sleep again and waste precious moments we could spend together.

  “Hmmm. I’ve always loved waking up to you.”

  “I’ve always loved sleeping with you. By that I mean making love, and not actually sleeping.”

  “Funny.”

  “I brought dinner home.”

  “That’s nice.” He yawns. “I’m not particularly hungry, though.”

  I lean back and inspect him. “Did an alien beam down from space and invade Drew McKnight’s body? Not hungry?”

  He half smiles. My attempt at amusing him is an epic failure. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to eat. We don’t have to do anything. We can just lie here all night and not even talk, if that’s what you want.”

  “Cate, that’s not fair to you. You need to know the plan.”

  I toe off my shoes and stretch out on top of him. “Shoot.”

  “Tuesday morning I go in for round one of chemo. Different drugs. Same side effects.”

  I grab his face and say, “You good with this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “We do three rounds, then surgery. But this time we’ll do bang, bang, bang.”

  “Meaning?” I ask.

  “No time off in between.”

  Ouch. That’s rough. That means he’ll debilitate. With zero time off, it won’t give him much time to regroup and gain his appetite back.

  “That’s rough, Drew.”

  “I know. They know it. But they think I’m hearty enough and it gives me the very best fighting chance and I have to take it.”

  “Okay, I’m with you. Are the drugs as harsh?”

  “Yeah, but the doses will be different and they’ll add more protective measures to make sure I don’t get neutropenic and such.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then PET scans and if they like the progression of the shrinkage, then surgery.”

  He’s tempering his Greek because I understand these terms, when usually I don’t. This tells me he really doesn’t want to talk much more about it, and I’m good with that.

  Three weeks later, Drew is down twenty-five pounds and feels like hell. I b
ring him milk shakes, ice cream from his favorite ice cream shop, sundaes, cake, brownies, chocolate chip cookies, you name it, to try to get some pounds back on him. But eating is a huge problem. He’s nauseated all the time. The drugs they give him to prevent it don’t seem to be that effective. Ben, bless him, scores some weed and that helps the most. Plus, it has the added benefit of stimulating his appetite. At first I worry it will hurt his lungs, but Drew, in his dry humorous way, looks at me and says, “What, Cate? Worried I might get cancer?”

  And what can I say to that?

  He finally seems to be turning in the right direction. The doctors won’t even consider surgery until they can get his strength up. So Ben comes over every night and they smoke and get high. And by high, I mean completely stoned. Drew eats, and Ben and I laugh, because Drew is freaking hilarious. He comes up with the craziest shit, like telling us we’re going to plant asparagus in the back yard, instead of grass. Then we’ll just mow it down once a week and have dinner afterwards. Ben and I try to convince him it won’t work, but he has it all planned out in his head that it will.

  One night we’re all sitting around, and my mom decides to pay us a surprise visit. Drew, who is stoned as hell, pulls out his pipe, and offers my mother a hit off it. Ben almost falls out of his chair, and I have to drag my mother in the kitchen and explain things to her.

  “Cate, I am aware of the medical uses of marijuana. I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday, you know. I did smoke the stuff when I was in college.”

  “I didn’t know that, Mom. But, uh, thanks for sharing.” Jeez, talk about a shocker. I can’t conjure up an image of my mom taking a hit off a bong for the life of me.

  “By the way, Cate, where did Drew get his pot from?”

  “Oh my god, Mom, I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

  She shrugs. “Well, you never know if you’ll ever need it.”

  When I tell Ben what she said, he dies laughing again.

  “Oh god, the picture of your mom hitting the pipe is just too good. Cate, we need to get her high with us.”

  “Ben Rhoades! That is a big negative.”

  Drew chuckles. “Oh, Cate, I think she’d get so into it.”