Goodbye to You

by A. J. Matthews

  I look at Shay, and he stares back at me. For the first time ever, I see myself as a mom, and look forward to the day, years from now, when I may be holding his baby in my arms.

  The first night we met in Key West was one of the best ever.

  This night tops that one, by a country mile.

  Life really is good.

  Chapter 18

  Thea

  Tomorrow.

  It’s tomorrow.

  Tomorrow, I lose my breasts.

  Even though they might try to kill me in the future, I’m still going to miss them.

  I can’t help it. I’m obsessing. Standing in the bathroom, I stare at them in the mirror. My nipples, stiffened by the cool air, stare back at me. At least I get to keep them, for what it’s worth.

  So my new breasts won’t be totally foreign to me.

  I jump at a knock on the door.

  “Hey, are you coming out? I’m ready to start this binge-fest. Only four hours left to eat whatever you want.”

  He is ridiculously thoughtful. He picked up tortellini Alfredo, sesame chicken, tacos, and a burger, all for us to share. Oh, right, and some popcorn and chocolate ice cream.

  “Yep, be right out.” I slip on my sports bra, panties, and pajamas and head out.

  I’m greeted by the buttery, spicy, and savory smells of my favorite foods.

  The table, now clutter-free, is set with actual dishes and silverware. Even some stemware, though we’re not drinking tonight. The lights are dimmed, and a single vanilla-scented pillar candle in the middle of the table illuminates the area.

  The scene is so romantic. Like I should have expected anything else from him.

  “What’s this for?”

  “I wanted to make the night special for my girl.”

  His girl.

  He still makes the butterflies flit around in my stomach when he says things like that. He is so sweet.

  He pulls out my chair for me. “What shall I get you first, m’lady?” He bows with a flourish and I giggle like an adolescent with her first crush.

  I push my chair back to stand. “Shay, you don’t have to wait on me.”

  “Oh, but I do. Where shall we go? Mexico? China? Italy?”

  “Mexico! And bring the guac.”

  “As you wish.” He bows again, and I throw my napkin at him.

  So silly. So considerate.

  This has me worried. I know he says he can handle the nasty side of this—the drains, the potential infections, changing pads and cleaning incisions.

  The emotional side will be far worse.

  I am a raging bitch when I get my period and I’m cramping and my boobs are sore from water retention. What demon from hell is going to possess me when the incisions ooze and burn and the scars tingle and itch?

  My pain threshold is low, and they won’t give me the “good stuff” for too many days. After I come home from the hospital, then what? A week or so on codeine before moving to ibuprofen.

  Mourning will follow. Everyone in the support group who’d already had their surgery described the aftermath like any other loss, with all its stages of grief.

  Except there will be no denial. The girls will be gone, the tissue tested and then relegated to the status of medical waste. So weird to think of my blood and ducts and flesh so casually discarded.

  I’m sad. Bye, girls. Nice knowing you all these years. See you later in the big medical waste incinerator in the sky.

  Morbid.

  Shay slides my plate of tacos and guacamole in front of me and retrieves a couple bottles from the kitchen.

  “Caffeinated, or decaffeinated?” He holds up two different bottle of pop.

  “Definitely caffeinated.” I want to stay up as long as I can. With him. With the girls.

  With him touching and kissing the girls.

  I want him to stay all night and bury his head in my chest, leaving me with beautiful final memories of my last night with them. Maybe that’s silly, but it’s what I want.

  He pours my drink, gets his own plate and sits down across from me, scooping pasta with his fork, soaking up sauce with the tangy garlic bread.

  I wonder what I’d be doing right now if he hadn’t come back into my life. Doing a girls’ night with Bennie and Leesh, I guess. Not sure we’d be eating like this, since Leesh is low-carb since vacation (which would be a nightmare for me, but whatever.) They’d probably want to drink some.

  I don’t want to party anymore. I like this. The quiet comfort of home. Of him.

  Music plays softly in the background from my phone in its docking station.

  We finish eating and move to the couch.

  It might seem mundane to someone from the outside looking in, but nothing could be more meaningful to me than this. The Hangover Three finally came out on DVD, and though the film’s hijinks might hold my attention any other night, the movie barely registers with me right now.

  “Let’s go to bed,” I blurt out.

  “Really? We still have so much left to eat.” He unfastens the button on his jeans. “I made room for more.”

  It’s not even ten o’clock, and I’d insisted earlier we keep eating until midnight, after which I can’t eat per my pre-surgical orders. There are more urgent things to do. Like helping him finish taking his pants off.

  I straddle his lap, his hard cock pressing into my thigh. He nuzzles my neck, dropping a kiss on the top of one breast peeking out from my tank top, and then the other.

  He stands, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist as I twine my arms around his strong neck.

  He carries me to my room and lays me down on the bed. He undresses before sliding in next to me. I reach over to turn the light on. I want to drink in the sight of him loving me tonight.

  I undress like he did, leaving only my panties on, and lay back down.

  The air is cool in my room, and gooseflesh raises all over my body. He leans over me, propped on one arm with the other running his fingertips over my arm and down my side, barely skimming the side of my left breast.

  I gasp at the faint brush, and want more.

  He must be able to read my mind, or else he has learned so well what I crave.

  What I need in this moment.

  He pulls me to my side, facing him. His head is on the bed below the edge of the pillow, level with my chest.

  I arch my back, curving closer into him.

  With a single finger, he traces the outline of one breast, from collarbone to ribcage, to the sensitive skin on the underside to rest in the valley between for a moment before tracing a similar path, in reverse, over the other side.

  With the same finger, he circles one areola before moving to the other.

  I would normally close my eyes and throw my head back as he stroked the sensitive flesh, but tonight I watch, eyes wide and moving from his face to his fingers as they dance across my skin. He rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and apparently not satisfied with using one hand, he lays me flat on my back and uses both hands, pinching and squeezing both nipples at the same time.

  I want to watch him, but my eyes roll back.

  After minutes of this exquisite torture, he finally lays on his stomach and takes a nipple into his mouth.

  Sweet Jesus.

  A jolt of electricity shoots from breast to belly and lower, settling between my legs. My thighs actually quiver. Quiver.

  He moves to the other side and nips the stiff peak, licking it, before taking it fully into his mouth. He kneads the soft flesh of the other breast while sucking on this one, taking as much of me as he can into his mouth. The tug of his mouth sends more ripples of pleasure throughout me, from fingertips to toes. He switches back and forth from one side to the other, always with the sweet, almost painful, pressure. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers diving into his soft, thick hair, holding him close, nearly smothering him. I don’t want him to leave me.

  “Yes. Har
der. More.”

  My toes dig into the comforter, and I have trouble believing this is happening.

  My legs shake violently, and the only thing keeping me from bucking off the bed is the delicious weight of his torso partially lying across me.

  He sucks harder, tugging and rolling the other nipple in his fingers as I shake.

  My broken sobs of pleasure echo through the room.

  I actually came, with no touching below the waist.

  Wow.

  ***

  Shay

  She finally stops shaking minutes later, and I prop up on my elbows, scanning her face.

  She’s crying.

  “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Why are you crying? Did I hurt you? I—”

  “No.” She sniffles, and I’m not quite sure what to do. “It’s…that’s never happened before.”

  I laugh. “It’s not common, but not unheard of, either.”

  She cocks her head to the side, her loose gold hair spilling across the pillow. I’m not sure how to interpret the look.

  “I’ve read, I mean, that’s never happened for me either. But I’ve done research.”

  “Research?” She sits up and climbs under the covers, shivering. I slide under with her, curling into her soft, lush warmth. I never want to leave her. But in a few hours I’ll drive her to the hospital and leave my precious girl in the hands of her capable medical team.

  I snuggle up behind her, one arm under the pillow and the other circling her, cupping one of her delectable breasts.

  I’ll never tell her, but I’m going to miss them.

  They weren’t the first thing I noticed about her, but close.

  The first thing was her warm, crooked smile, and when she grinned at me from across Paddy’s and raised her shot glass in my direction, I was done for.

  I fell in love.

  I could have lived without her had I never seen her again, but after the day at the hospital, there was no going back.

  Like I’d had cement shoes tied to my feet and been tossed into the Gulf of Mexico, drowning in the warm, colorful depths of her love.

  Her small hand slides between us, her warm palm cupping my penis, massaging my testicles.

  The hard-on that had subsided after she came returns in full force, and I strain against her hand. I wanted tonight to be for her, but my need to be inside her overwhelms everything else. She rolls over and tangles her fingers in my hair, my scalp tingling where her fingers massage. I lean in and kiss her, so slowly, my lips grazing her full, soft mouth.

  Her tongue darts out and she whimpers. I deepen the kiss, but not the pace. Nothing to rush. I don’t need to sleep. All I need is to touch her, let her know how much I love her with my mouth, my hands, and my whole body.

  I pull back and stare. The pale gold glow from the small bedside lamp gilds her skin, illuminating the fine hairs all over her body. She’s luminous.

  I’ve seen a lot of beautiful things in my life, many beautiful women in very little clothing.

  But nothing like this. Like her. Her bright blue eyes shine and offer an invitation I cannot resist.

  I fumble at the nightstand drawer and pull out the packet. After swiftly sliding on the condom, I cover her completely, my arms braced on either side of her.

  Her arms reach around my back, clutching at my hips as she opens her legs for me. I glide into her waiting heat and pause, savoring the slight clenching of her muscles around me.

  It’s more than I could ever hope for.

  She’s exquisite, and I am the luckiest bastard in the world.

  I move slowly in and out of her, never quickening the pace. Her hands clutch at my shoulders and arms. I arch over her, pulling her hands away and holding them above her head. I lock my gaze onto hers.

  I love when her mouth makes the little O when she comes. I want her to see my face when I come.

  I want her to know I’m all in, and I’m not going anywhere.

  For life.

  ***

  Thea

  “You need to go.”

  Watching him the past few weeks, with the kids, his desire for a family shining in his eyes, his need for a normal life scrawled like graffiti all over his beautiful face, I’ve realized in the last few hours I am the wrong person for him.

  Despite the fact I’ve never found anyone more perfect for me.

  For all our talk of not sleeping, Shay is knocked the hell out, his long, lean frame taking up a good portion of the bed.

  He won’t wake up. I shake his shoulder with all the force I can muster. “Get. Up.”

  He bolts upright, eyes wild and head turning side to side. He rubs his eyes and looks at me. “Do we need to go? Did we oversleep?”

  “No. I don’t need to be at the hospital for hours.”

  “Good. Come back to bed.” He reaches his long arms for me, but draws back when I move away.

  I shake my head, and pick up his clothes, piling them on the end of the bed for him to reach.

  “No. You need to go,” I say again, hoping the repetition will pound the concept into his head.

  “Thea, what’s going on? I don’t understand.”

  “I can’t see you anymore.” No. Be more firm. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. We—”

  “We what, Shay? Fucked? Don’t you understand?”

  His wide eyes tell me no.

  “From the start it’s always been about sex. I needed someone to make me feel hot, make me forget the surgery. Make me come till my eyes rolled back into my head.”

  “Stop, Thea.” He blinks and cracks his neck.

  “Mission accomplished. You fit the bill quite nicely. But we’re done.” I choke on the words. “Get dressed and go.”

  He pulls his shirt over his head, and stands up to slide his boxers on. I try not to look at his magnificent legs, but they’re so…

  My tongue sticks to the dry roof of my mouth.

  This is much harder than I anticipated.

  He screws his face up, his forehead wrinkling and those beloved dimples he’d shared with me all night are nowhere to be found. “Why?”

  “I just told you. The sex was fabulous, but I’m starting a new chapter in my life and need a clean break.” The tears stinging my eyes blur my vision. I turn my back to him.

  “I don’t understand. What’s changed in the last few hours? I asked you not to lie to me ever again. Tell me.”

  I break when he places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “Please. This is not easy.” I sob and sink to the floor. “I can’t do this to you. Your expression, when you were watching Dr. Knox’s wife with her baby. When she was breastfeeding. I can’t ever do that. Hell, Shay, I’m at increased odds for ovarian cancer, too. About thirty to forty percent. Do you remember that from your genetic studies classes? I may never be able to have kids.”

  “Thea, don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what, Shay, be honest? That’s what you want. This is me, in my ugly, naked form. I’ll probably never have kids. And if I do, I sure as hell can’t nurse them.” I’m shaking and crying, snot running out of my nose and over my upper lip. I swipe it with my sleeve and square my shoulders.

  “Is it you Thea? Or me? You don’t want kids with me because of the long line of crazy?”

  “No. Of course not! Where is this coming from?”

  “You aren’t the only one with doubts about having kids. What we might pass on to them. Mental illness. Breast cancer. Do we stop living our lives because of this?”

  I stand up, because a woman in a heap of tears on the floor is hardly a paragon of strength and fortitude. My knees buckle, but I manage to stay upright.

  “I don’t care about any of that, Thea. I only care about you.”

  I cross my arms in front of my chest, attempting to block his kindness and devotion, because it could pierce the suit of armor I’m trying to don.

  “You say that now. Will you feel the same in five years
when I’m undergoing radiation and my eggs shrivel and die? Don’t talk about things like you know how they’ll be in five years, or ten, or more.”

  I turn my back on him. I’m done talking. I can’t bear to look at him anymore. His own tears are shredding my heart into bleeding strips.

  “Maybe you should take your own advice, and stop acting like you know what I think now or what I’ll want in the coming years. You know nothing. I’ll never stop loving you. I’m pretty sure you’ll never stop loving me either.”

  The floor creaks as he comes to stand behind me. He drops one last kiss on the top of my head. “Take care, Thea. I’ll think about you every day for as long as I live.”

  Then he’s gone. Down the hall, through the door, and out of my life.

  If this is what’s best, for him, for me, why the fuck does it hurt so damn much?

  ***

  Shay

  On the drive home, I play everything over and over in my head. One minute we’re making love, sweating and clinging to one another like tomorrow is a bump in the road on our lifetime of happiness together.

  The next minute, she’s kicking me from the bed and out of her life.

  All for fun. That’s what it should have been.

  That’s what she said the night I found out about the surgery. It was more than fun, though.

  It was real. Is real.

  Even though it’s late, I call Mr. McBride to tell him about Thea’s surgery tomorrow. She didn’t tell them when, and he’s glad I called. Another thing she’ll be angry at me for, but I don’t care.

  If she thinks that this act she’s putting up is going to keep me away, she has another thing coming.

  She believes she’s protecting me from being trapped in a life I don’t want, with someone who may not be able to have my children. I can’t think of a way to convince her that I’m telling the truth, that I don’t care about those things. I want to be with her and never leave.

  Unless she calls the cops on me for stalking. Hopefully it won’t come to that.

  Tomorrow, she’ll understand how serious I am. How committed.

  I told her before, I’m all in, and if that means changing dressings and checking stitches and convincing her that nothing else matters to me except her, sign me up.