An utter, disgusting mess.
I sat in the bathroom, angry and pissed as tears flowed from my eyes. And never had I ever hated myself more. This disease had taken everything from me. My confidence. My self-esteem. I was losing my hair, and now I couldn't even contain the contents of my body.
But by some grace of God, the world had given me Weston. I’d hit the jackpot, and I considered myself the luckiest person to have him. I knew I didn't deserve his love. While the poison they called chemo flowed through my body as I was trying to beat cancer, it was odd to think that I was lucky. But that's what I felt when I was with Weston.
When he got home from the studio he had found me in the bathroom along with my filth. He didn’t cringe or leave. Instead he stayed, and bathed me, and like every other time before, he took care of me. He loved me through it all. Through my mess. When my skin began to prune, and my crying had subsided, Weston shut the water off and grabbed a robe from behind the door. He held it up for me, and I stood on my weak legs.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he draped the robe over my caved shoulders. I nodded as I stepped out of the tub, but we both knew that I wasn’t. Weston held his hands on my arms and stopped me in my tracks. The love and concern in his eyes settled on me.
"I love you, Emilia. I don't want you to feel embarrassed or ashamed. This happens. But it doesn't mean that I love you any less. I love you more today than I did yesterday. And I know I'll love you more tomorrow." His grip around my arms warmed me inside and out.
That was why I was so damn lucky to have this man in my life. Everything from his words, to his actions, to his simple touch had me putty in his hands. He knew me inside and out and that was something no other man could do. My soul belonged to his, they were a match from the start, before either of us even knew the other existed. If there was anything I felt for certain it was that. Cancer or no cancer, he was my first and last love.
"Right back at ya,” I whispered unable to fully tell him everything I so badly wanted to for fear of breaking apart even more. Weston nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck and kissed my damp skin. In one sweep, he cradled me in my arms.
"I need to clean up,” I said bashfully.
He placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head and walked me out of the bathroom and into our bedroom. "Why don't you stay right here and rest? I’ll go clean up." He guided me our bed, where I sat with a thankful smile.
"Thank you,” I said, new tears swelling in my eyes and then my silence broke "You give me hope.” Weston’s head tilted as he listened. “You and Lyra give me a reason to keep fighting. I don't think I'll ever be able to explain to you how much I truly love you, but I do. I'm in love with you, Weston. Every single day of my life I love you."
Weston reached out and brushed the tears trickling from my eyes.. He took the pain away, just like he had always done.
"It's good to know because I'm very much in love with the same girl who tried to take my passion tea away,” he whispered with a boyish grin, and I couldn't help but laugh.
And in that moment, the horrific scene that had played out in the bathroom was forgotten and was replaced with something so much more beautiful.
74
WESTON
Two months later.
Good days.
We’d finally gotten some good days. Consecutive good days.
Emilia was halfway through with chemo and we were counting down the days before this was all behind her. She was also in better spirits. One Friday morning, after I’d come home from dropping off Lyra at school, I found Emilia sitting in the living room with the radio blasting through the house. She had albums, CDs and her laptop scattered on the floor in front of her.
The music was so loud that she didn’t even budge when I shouted from behind her. I walked in front of her and waved. She fumbled with the remote to lower the stereo and laughed. “Sorry,” she said. She stood and rushed over to give me a kiss. “Do you know the amount of music that exists in this world? Like, really great music. I missed four years of it when I avoided the radio because I was hiding from you. I’m never going to catch up.”
I took her in my arms and brought my lips to hers. “What have you found so far?”
“One Direction, Ed Sheeran and all of Pink’s newer albums. I swear I’m going to have an infinite number of playlists.” Emilia pulled out of my arms and lifted her laptop off the floor. “Look at this playlist I just created.” She tapped a button and music began to play through the surround sound.
It had been months since I’d seen her this energetic and happy. “What’s that?” I asked when I noticed a small box on the floor where she sat.
Emilia placed the laptop down and picked up the box. “It’s a GoPro.” She twirled the box around. “I figured I can capture the good days, and on my bad days maybe I can set it up so I don’t miss Lyra.”
I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “What do you have planned for later tonight?”
Emilia peered up at me, her eyebrows pushed together. “Uh . . . Well, I was planning to head out for the night, maybe hit a few bars.” She giggled at her own joke. “I’m doing the same thing I do every night. Cook dinner, hang out with you and Lyra, and let you hold me all night.”
The song switched to a slower one and I took the GoPro camera out of Emilia’s hand and tossed it on the couch. I wrapped my arms around her petite frame and began to sway our bodies. “I want to take you out on a date.”
Her arms clasped around my neck. “Yeah?” Emilia looked up at me, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip.
“Yes, where you get dressed up and I charm you with my words. If you’re lucky, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.” I pressed my lips to the tip of her nose.
“I’d really like that,” she whispered. And then her soft lips molded into mine.
We kissed Lyra good–bye, and waved as my mother’s car pulled away from the driveway and onto the street. Lyra was spending the night with my mother, baking cookies for her school’s bake sale.
“Are you excited?” I whispered near Emilia’s ear.
“Nervous.” She shrugged.
Walking back inside the house, I coiled my arms behind her and rested my lips on the hollow of her neck. “I’ll be a gentleman.” My hands slid across her stomach.
“Weston.” She pulled away and turned toward me. “I’m going to go get ready.” She poked my chest. “You better be on your best behavior, sir.”
I watched Emilia as she walked up the stairs, my heart rate a bit higher than usual as I anticipated our night. Pulling a beer out of the fridge, I turned up some soft music as I waited. It would only take me twenty minutes to get ready.
An hour later I was sitting on the couch, the television on behind me, but my eyes were on the beautiful woman who was walking down the stairs. Emilia was in a hunter–green dress, her hair swayed as she walked.
Keeping my hands off of her was going to be impossible.
“Do you like?” she asked, slowly turning.
“I like.” I reached out a hand for her to grab. “You’re beautiful.” Emilia smiled coyly as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Come on, let’s go before I change my mind and decide it’s better we stay here.”
I couldn’t recall the last time I'd taken her out. I planned to savor this night. At every red light, I reminded her how beautiful she was, writing a love letter on her hand.
“Where are we going?” she asked when we pulled into a dark alley in Santa Monica.
“You'll see.” I put my car in park as the valet attendant approached us. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, marking the sky with amber rays. I met Emilia on the other side of the car and took her hand in mine.
“Shall we?”
One Pico was an open style restaurant with tall walls of white wooden–framed windows overlooking the beach. The lights were dimmed and tea lights illuminated the tables.
The hostess led us to our seats. I’d requested an intimate table away from a lot of tr
affic and with a spectacular view of the sunset.
“This is really nice, Weston,” Emilia whispered once the hostess walked away.
“I'd give you the moon if I could.” I placed my napkin on my lap.
“You're such a dork.” She shook her head. “Just because you're a musician and you're good with your words, doesn’t mean that your charms are working on me today, buddy.”
I reached across the table and grasped her hands. “They're not?” I raised one eyebrow at her.
“Okay, maybe just a little.”
The tea lights burned, illuminating the table, and the sound of the waves crashing a few feet away drowned out anyone else as we enjoyed our dinner. Our conversation was light. We laughed, we joked, and we didn't talk about cancer. We were two people in love, enjoying a night out.
Emilia stood from the table, and my hand rested on her lower back as I guided her out of the restaurant. “Take a walk with me?” I released my hand from her back and led her toward the beach.
“I’d love to,” she said as she removed her heels. Holding on to her shoes with one hand, she entwined the other with mine. I led us down between the restaurants to a secluded part of the beach.
“Wes?”
A few feet away stood Axel, Sally, Leslie, and every other person who cared for Emilia. One by one someone lit the Tiki torches that had been planted in the sand, and Emilia was able to see their faces. She gasped when she spotted Lyra among the crowd.
She peered up at me, the moonlight bouncing off her skin and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Why are they here?”
“Tonight we are going to light up the sky.”
Before she had a chance to ask anything further, Lyra came running toward us. Scooping her into my arms, we walked toward four burning Tiki torches.
“Thanks for setting everything up.” I kissed Leslie on the cheek.
“What is this?” Emilia’s voice was filled with happiness. It had been so long since I’d seen her like this. So . . . alive.
“We’re all going to write our wishes on this paper and light them up.” Leslie handed Emilia a paper lantern and a Sharpie. “We’ll watch as we light up the sky.”
Lyra drew a rainbow and our family on her paper with the word “Happy.”
Emilia wished for health.
I wished for endless days like today.
Our small group each lit lanterns that slowly lifted off our fingertips and flew into the dark sky. Lyra stood in front of us, my arms over Emilia’s shoulders as we looked upward into the night sky. The most beautiful smile was present on Emilia’s face.
She was lighting up the darkness that lived inside of me.
We said good–bye to our friends and left One Pico. Leslie, who had surprised Emilia by flying into town, decided to come back to the house so they could catch up. Lyra and my parents said their good–byes before heading back to my house.
The music played in the backyard. Emilia sat on the outside pool chair with her feet up, Leslie in the chair next to her, and they both chatted about work, life, and love. It was wrong to eavesdrop, but it was impossible to stay away from her.
“Monica.” Emilia said to Leslie.
“Monica? Roommate Monica?” Leslie questioned.”
“Yes!” Her lips puckered in annoyance. “I never liked her. I swear we were never good enough for her and her high horse. Remember the night I met Weston, how she threw herself all over him.” Her tone was cool and disapproving.
“Oh, yes!” Leslie reached across and grabbed Emilia’s hand. “She was very materialistic and let’s be honest, a whore,” Leslie said matter–of–factly.
“Yes,” Emilia sneered. “She is number one on my list.”
“What list?” I asked and sat on the edge of Emilia’s chair.
“People you can’t marry.” Leslie raised her beer to mine as a silent salute.
“Marry? Who’s talking about me getting married? Of the three of us, the only one who actually got married was you, Em.” I stared at her and started to laugh.
Emilia kicked my side and laughed. “Whatever. You didn’t stop it, so suck it.”
Leslie snorted. “Awkward!”
“Leslie and I were playing Do, Marry, Kill with boy bands and then we jumped to the conversation about marriage.”
“Boy bands?” I raised my eyebrow. “I’m in a boy band.”
“Shut it.” Emilia tried to pinch me with her toes. “Anyway, we started talking about marriage and I gave her a list of people you can’t marry.”
“Oh, this I need to hear.”
“Monica.” She shook her head. “You can marry anyone you want except her.”
“I don’t get your hatred toward her,” Leslie said.
“She was the first girl I saw all over Weston.” Emilia looked up at me. “And I had claimed him already.” Emilia winked at me and I laughed.
“You, babe.” I caressed my hand up her bare leg. “You’re the only girl for me, you know that. My yellow gel.”
“Please excuse me while I hold back my barf,” Leslie joked, holding her stomach.
“Ignore her.” Emilia brushed Leslie away and sat up to give me a kiss.
“You two are so stinking adorable. And you’re also the two most stubborn people I’ve ever had the pleasure of being friends with.” Leslie shook her head in disapproval. “I called him to stop the wedding.” She pointed to me. “I told you not to marry Jeremy.” Her gaze landed on Emilia. “But did anyone listen to me? No, of course not.”
Emilia laughed against our fused lips. “Whatever, we’re still figuring it out.” She pulled away and gazed up at me. “It took us some time, a secret baby, and a life–threatening disease. But we’re here now.”
“We’re here now,” I mouthed against her soft lips.
Emilia didn’t lose her hair right away. After every chemo treatment, she stood in front of the mirror and brushed her long auburn curls. She inhaled as she dragged the brush down through her hair and a few strands fell out, but nothing had her gasping.
Until that night.
Leslie was crashing in my old guest room, so it was only Emilia and me. I had walked out of the master bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. Emilia was lying on the bed, her body covered in silk lingerie and her gaze burning through me.
“You look beautiful.”
“Come here.” She moved her finger, motioning me toward her. The ten–foot walk from the bathroom to the bed felt like a mile. Emilia crawled up the bed, her red hair bright against the cream material.
I stood at the edge of the mattress. Emilia kneeled and our bodies met. Her hands ran up my body and I coiled my hands around the nape of her neck. Her lips crashed over mine, hungrier with every passing second. Emilia moaned and opened her mouth wider. I tugged on the nape of her neck and froze. My body locked as I realized that the hair in my hands was no longer attached to Emilia’s head.
“What’s wrong?” Emilia asked when I stopped kissing her. I pulled my hand back between us. My hands were covered with long red curls. Emilia gasped and reached for the spot behind her ear. “Oh, my God!”
“It’s okay.” I balled the loose strands in my hand. “It’s hair. It will grow back.”
“You’re right. I was expecting this, but it doesn’t hurt any less.”
I refused to let our perfect day together be ruined.
I marched away from Emilia and straight into the bathroom. If she was going to be bald, then I would be bald with her.
Rummaging through the drawers, I found the buzzer. “What are you doing?” Emilia appeared in the mirror behind me.
“I told you.” I looked up at her reflection and flicked the buzzer on. “You’re not doing this alone.” I brought the buzzer to my hair and began to shave off patches.
A tear fell from Emilia’s cheek and she slowly nodded. “Do you think you can give me a Mohawk until it falls out?”
That night we stood in the bathroom and I shaved my head down to nothing before I gave
Emilia a full Mohawk. She’d eventually lose her hair completely, but that night she was in charge.
She chose to take cancer by the balls and tell it to go fuck itself.
75
WESTON
September
It was Emilia’s last day of chemotherapy.
We’d made it.
We’d reached the end.
Four months had passed. Four brutal months, but she was alive. She was stronger than ever and, based on her results, she was in remission.
That morning, the alarm didn’t wake us up. Emilia and I both sat in bed staring out the window as we watched the darkness fade and the sun begin to rise in the east. We held each other, thankful and content. Though I hated what she’d gone through, it had made us closer.
“I can’t believe it’s today,” Emilia said as her hands traced invisible love letters on my chest. “It seemed that four months would be so long and now we’re here.”
I pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “I want to tell you that I’m proud of you.” I paused. “No, proud doesn’t seem like the right word. You are so brave, Em. You’re a fighter, and though these past few months have been hell at times, you never quit.”
She looked up at me. “Because I had you by my side.” Capturing her mouth with mine, I kissed her tenderly. Emilia pulled back and smiled. “We have one more treatment and I’m done. I’m so done. I’m ready for this to be behind us.”
“Today is a new day.” I brushed my hand over her soft skin. “Today we can say goodbye to chemo and continue with the rest of our lives, together.”
“I love you so much, Weston.” She pressed her lips into a fine line. “I love you with everything that I am.”
I kissed her forehead and muttered, “Me too.” My hand grazed up her arm, writing the words I love you over her skin.
After dropping Lyra off at school, we headed toward the cancer center. The first time we had driven there in complete silence, my heart pounding with each passing second, but this time the radio played behind us. I asked Emilia what her plans were now that she would have all this free time on her hands.
Love Letter Duet: The Encore Edition Page 41
