by Tori Madison
Beneath, You’re Beautiful
Tori Madison
Text copyright © 2015 by Tori Madison
Digital Edition
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever, including, but not limited to, electronic transferring, photocopying, recording, or information storage without the express written consent and permission of the author except for the use of brief quotes by a reviewer in a book review.
This is a work of fiction; however, some of the experiences related directly to the main character’s breast cancer were drawn from the author’s own experiences. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author is using a pen name; this is not a personal autobiography.
Edited by: Amanda Krause
Cover Image: Shutterstock, Inc.
Image Number: 63582892
Order Number: 17689022
Cover Design: Tori Madison
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One – I AM ADMIRED
Chapter Two – I AM HOPEFUL
Chapter Three – I AM WORTHY
Chapter Four – I AM UNIQUE
Chapter Five – I AM CELEBRATED
Chapter Six – I AM CLASSY
Chapter Seven – I AM TREASURED
Chapter Eight – I AM GENUINE
Chapter Nine – I AM COMPASSIONATE
Chapter Ten – I AM SELFLESS
Chapter Eleven – I AM TOUGH
Chapter Twelve – I AM EMPTY
Chapter Thirteen – I AM OPTIMISTIC
Chapter Fourteen – I AM TRANSFORMING
Chapter Fifteen – I AM A WARRIOR
Chapter Sixteen – I AM ONE-OF-A-KIND
Chapter Seventeen – I AM A SURVIVOR
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Contact Tori
Dedication
To my husband and daughters . . .
This story wouldn’t have been completed without you and your continued love and support.
You have stood by my side through it all, encouraging me, and putting up with my craziness. Never once did you complain about doing a few extra chores or listening to me babble about plot lines and characters. You make every day an adventure and I love you more than you will ever know!
To my special angel in heaven . . .
You taught me to speak my mind, and never be afraid to put myself out there. I finally listened. Thank you for being that voice inside encouraging me to keep going. You are my Jillian.
Chapter One
I AM ADMIRED
My hands were trembling as I reached for the business card in my purse and dialed the number written on the back. It began ringing, and after the third ring I assumed it would go to voice mail. Usually most people answered by the second ring. I was wrong.
“Hello?” I heard a sexy and slightly out-of-breath voice answer.
“Hi, Dr. Forrester. This is Victoria Madison.” There was a long pause that caused my blood pressure to elevate to the point where I could hear my heart beating in my ears.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” he huffed. “I’m sorry, I just got back from a run, and I’m a bit out of breath.”
“I wasn’t planning to call this evening, but I can’t seem to focus on anything other than your question. It’s been running through my mind since leaving your office this afternoon.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I recognized the insecurity in his voice, which settled the butterflies in my stomach a fraction. He was just as nervous as I was.
With an unsteady voice, I answered, “That all depends on if you still want to meet me for coffee.”
I swear I could hear his mouth curve into a smile through the phone. “It’s a good thing . . . a very good thing. Yes, I’d love to meet you for coffee.”
“Would Sunday morning work? I was thinking we could meet at the Caribou Coffee by your office at, say, around nine?”
He couldn’t hide his smile any longer; it was evident in his response. “Yes, that sounds perfect.”
“Great. I’m looking forward to it.” A ridiculously large smile spread across my face.
“Me too. I hope you have a nice weekend, and I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“I’ll see you then. Bye, Blake.” I beamed as I hung up. It was official; he wasn’t my doctor anymore . . . by choice.
My heart was still pounding as I leaned back in the leather chair at the desk in my home office. I suddenly felt like I was back in high school and began second guessing myself. What on earth am I thinking? Going out with my doctor . . . well, “former” doctor?
The struggle with the thoughts swirling around in my head was driving me batty. What an idiot! I’m sure I sounded desperate calling so soon, and he probably already regretted asking me to meet him. I should call him back and cancel. Sitting forward, I rested my elbows on the desk and put my head in my hands. If I were to call him back I would certainly look foolish. I mean, it was just coffee. Nothing more. He hadn’t asked me out on a date or anything. Right?
Walking back into the kitchen, I stopped outside the entrance and overheard Bobbie Jo quietly talking to Jen, who was standing at the kitchen island. As hard as she tried, Bobbie Jo never mastered the art of talking quietly, and she was currently sharing her version of my day with Jen.
Jen and I had been best friends since junior high and shared more history than your average seventh-grade history class. First kisses, first boyfriends, and first break-ups—we were there for each other through it all. Jen moved in with me after Noah, my soon-to-be-ex-husband, left me for another woman while I was in the midst of treatment for breast cancer. Noah is an ass.
Bobbie Jo and I had met through a friend a few years ago, and it was like finding my long-lost sister. She is my crazy other half, the one that never turned down a dare and lives life to an extreme. She is always the friend to make me laugh, and she was with me the day I caught Noah kissing Stacey, the bitch. The day the foundation holding up my crumbling world completely collapsed.
Clearing my throat, they both snapped their heads in my direction. “There she is,” Jen announced with a little smirk and twinkle in her blue eyes. “So?”
“What?” I asked, pretending to not know what they were talking about as I walked to the fridge.
Bobbie Jo interjected in her sassy voice. “You know damn well what she’s asking about. Did you call Dr. McHottie?”
I pulled out a bottle of sparkling water and a lime. Grabbing a knife from the butcher block, I sliced the lime and then squeezed a wedge into the bottle before taking a sip. I could feel the two of them closely watching my every move. “Fine. I’m meeting Dr. Forrester—I mean Blake—for coffee on Sunday morning. Are you happy now?”
The squeal they let out was deafening, and they both bounded toward me, wrapping me in a hug as they started jumping around in a circle.
“Ouch! Easy, I just had a fill done. Please stop smooshing me, it hurts.” They both stepped away, but the up-to-no-good smiles were still planted on their faces.
“I knew it! He’s so into you,” Jen stated matter-of-factly. “Bobbie Jo and I both had our suspicions. Oh my god, you’re dating a hot doctor, and not just any hot doctor . . . Dr. McHottie himself!”
“Calm down. I’m not dating him, and I’m already questioning why I agreed to meet him. Hell, I just signed my divorce papers this morning. Isn’t there supposed to
be a mourning period? I don’t want to fall victim to a rebound relationship. What the hell did I do?” The panic was more than evident in my voice, “Look at me.” I insisted, waving my hands up and down my body showcasing my shiny bald head and hard chest that resembled a suit of armor. “I’m bald, I don’t have boobs, and my skin is dry and pasty. Let’s be honest, I look like the goddamn female version of Gollum from The Lord of the Rings.”
“Like I told you earlier, he wouldn’t have asked you if he wasn’t interested!” Bobbie Jo exclaimed, her green eyes intensely focused on me. “Christ, Victoria, he’s seen you at your best and at your worst. He understands you and what you’re going through much better than Noah did.” She tossed her wavy chestnut brown locks over her shoulder and went to mix herself a cocktail.
“You know what? I’m done hearing Noah’s name. I don’t want to hear it anymore,” I insisted.
“You mean, fuck-nuts?” Jen chimed in.
“What?” I asked. “Did you just call him ‘fuck-nuts’?”
“I sure did. Isn’t it fitting?” she laughed.
“Totally,” Bobbie Jo agreed after taking a sip of her Sea Breeze.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jen continued. “What you’re describing is on the outside, not who you are inside. Aren’t you the one who’s always said ‘buy a house based on the foundation and structure, not the cosmetic appeal because that can easily be changed’?” She looked at me triumphantly. “He sees you, not what is on the outside, but what’s beneath. Don’t you understand that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t. How can anyone see past the sickly woman who everyone assumes is dying? You should see the pitiful looks I get when I go to the store. It’s horrible.”
“The façade of cancer doesn’t hide what lies beneath. You’re beautiful,” she said as she walked around the island, pulling me into a hug. “Victoria, you’re the most beautiful woman I know. You’re sincere, honest, caring, and inspiring. Dr. Forrester knows that, and he isn’t about to pass up his chance to sweep you off your feet before other men take notice. Plus, he knows that Bobbie Jo and I are going to introduce you to the dating world the first chance we get. He’s actually pretty street smart . . . for a doctor.”
I gave her a nudge. “Are you implying that doctors aren’t smart?”
“No. I’m implying that, for a doctor, he’s smart about something other than medicine. It seems like a lot of doctors are book smart but are lacking in the personality department. There’s nothing wrong with it, but sometimes you want a little personality mixed in with your diagnosis of gout. It’s all about their bedside manner. . . . Speaking of bedside manner, I wonder what his will be like with you now!” Jen snorted as I smacked her arm.
“You’re terrible!” I shook my head. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t hide the smile her comment put on my face. She always knew how to make me smile. “I don’t think we’ll have the answer to that for a while . . . if ever. I’m just meeting him for coffee. Nothing more.”
“Whatever you say,” Bobbie Jo dismissed as she handed Jen a glass of sangria. “You want to try a drink yet?”
“Nope. Not even the least bit tempted, but thanks for the offer.” I hopped off my stool. “I’m going to go soak in the tub for a bit. Dr. McGuire recommended it to help soothe the achiness of my pectoral muscles after the fill.”
“Enjoy!” they called in unison as they clinked glasses and I disappeared with my sparkling water.
*
At three in the morning on Sunday, my usual middle-of-the-night mind travel session kicked into hyper drive. Only three hours into the day and my brain was already playing twenty questions. What should I wear? What are we going to talk about? Should I have an escape plan? I was meeting Dr. Forrester . . . I mean Blake . . . in six hours. What had I done?
At six, I finally came to the realization that sleep wasn’t going to happen, and I got up and took a long shower. Considering I didn’t have to wash my hair, my long shower lasted about seven minutes. Sad but true. Spending a little more time on my makeup than usual helped me feel human again. I hadn’t bothered to spend much time trying to look presentable lately, and it felt good making the effort.
After having breakfast and reading the morning paper, I slipped into a pair of jeans, a hot pink athletic jacket and my black Ugg sweater boots. For the first time in months, I was pleased with my appearance. I finished off my look with a gray and pink knit cap to cover my bald head and put on the Tiffany & Co. pink heart tag necklace Jen had bought me.
I arrived at Caribou early and lucked out by getting two of the overstuffed leather chairs in front of the stone fireplace. Snuggling into one of the chairs, I took a sip of my dark chocolate mint mocha when I heard a male voice ask, “Is this seat taken?” Looking up, I found a friendly looking gentleman smiling at me as he nodded to the empty chair.
I was just about to respond when a familiar voice behind me spoke up. “Yes, it is.”
“Well then, I hope you enjoy your coffee,” the man graciously backed away, tipping his hat.
“Thank you, you too,” Blake responded as he lifted his cup as a kind gesture. “Have a nice day.”
I watched as he removed his camel-colored pea coat and settled into the chair next to me. He was casually dressed in dark jeans, a red plaid shirt, and boots. His gorgeous thick black hair was hidden under a gray driver’s cap, and he clearly hadn’t shaved for a few days; he had the perfect amount of stubble covering his face. He looked like he just stepped out of a Banana Republic catalog.
As I ran my eyes back up toward his face, I noticed a sly smile curl the corner of his mouth. He was watching me check him out. Shifting in my seat, I looked away from those beautiful dark brown eyes and felt a flush warm my cheeks. Sensing my discomfort, he broke the ice. “Nice job finding a spot by the fire. It’s definitely cozier than a table.”
“This is my favorite spot to curl up with a book,” I confessed. “I’m kind of addicted to coffee shops—well, Caribou in particular. It settles my nerves, which is odd considering its sole purpose is to jack me up on caffeine.”
“If you opted for green or herbal tea”—he tipped his cup toward me—“it wouldn’t be quite as bad.”
“Yes, sir, Dr. Forrester.” I rolled my eyes, which garnered a laugh.
“Blake.” He winked. “So, how’re things going? I haven’t spoken with you since our last appointment when you told me . . . your news. It was quite a shock, and you were pretty shaken up.”
“Yeah, I was a little shell shocked. I’m actually doing better than I thought I would be, honestly. Nobody anticipates being blindsided like that, but now that I look back, there were signs that I apparently had ignored.” I wanted to say that I felt like an utter fool but didn’t.
“Or perhaps you had a lot going on at the time and didn’t see them?” he said as he lifted his cup to his lips.
“Perhaps. I never looked at our relationship for what it was. Physically we were always in sync . . . until a few months ago. Our marriage was a well-run business; we were friends and partners, but the love I thought we shared was just an illusion. I see that now. But what hurts most is how he ended it.” I took a calming breath before continuing. “It was like everything we’d been through suddenly didn’t matter, and he wasn’t willing to fight for us. It was over. No question. No argument. It was final. That’s Noah. Case closed.”
“I’m sorry he hurt you. You deserve better.”
“Thank you, I realize that now.” I took a sip of my mocha and decided it was my turn to ask questions. “So, why aren’t you married?”
His warm eyes sparkled in amusement. “Jumping right into the Q&A session with that one, huh?”
“Go big or go home. It seems to be my philosophy with everything lately.”
“Well, between medical school and my residency, I haven’t had much time for dating. I actually got my degree in engineering and was working in the industry for a year when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. I soon realized
that engineering wasn’t my calling . . .” His phone buzzed with a message. “Excuse me for a moment.”
“Sure, no problem.” I watched the fire dance in front of me while he typed out a reply to the message. My brain did a quick calculation estimating how long college, medical school, and residency might take and came to the conclusion that he was somewhere around thirty-five years old.
“Sorry about that, I’m on call,” he interrupted my thoughts and continued. “I never considered being a physician, but the fire had been lit, so I studied my ass off for the MCAT. After I passed, I was accepted into the medical program at University of Minnesota. I was happy to be close to my mom while in school but chose to complete my residency in Boston four years later. Her cancer came back when I was halfway through, and I moved back to Minnesota to be with her, but she passed away a few weeks after my return. Since I had jumped through several hoops to transfer my residency back to the Twin Cities, I decided to stay. If it wasn’t for my mom, I wouldn’t be back in Minnesota. And right here is where I want to be.”
I was impressed by everything he had just told me like it was no big deal. He was determined and let something he was passionate about drive him toward his career. It wasn’t something that’d been expected of him. In some ways, I’d done the same with my career. To say I was fascinated by this man was an understatement.
“We’re very similar in pursuing something we are passionate about as a career. I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I was in college. I took time off and got a job as a secretary at an interior design firm while putting him through law school. A few years later, I pursued my certification. Funny how you end up where you’re supposed to be without even knowing it.”
“I’m a firm believer in things happening for a reason. People come and go throughout our lifetime, and they are all important, even though some you’d rather not acknowledge.” He gave me an intentional smile, which I returned, knowing he was referring to Noah. “Good and bad experiences continue to shape us and help us adapt to the things changing around us. How you choose to handle those experiences is up to you.”
