A Single Dad to Heal Her Heart

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘You can’t stop me, my darling. I love you, and I don’t have a choice about that—and I don’t want a choice. I don’t want anybody else, I want you.’

  ‘But I could die—’

  ‘Yes, you could. We all could. We all will. I still want you. I still love you, and I always will, for as long as I have you, and that’s not negotiable because there’s nothing I can do about it. You mean the world to me, and whatever happens in the future I’m here for you. We can do this, Livvy. We can face this together, whatever it is, whatever they’ve found. It’s probably nothing, but even if it isn’t, I’m here, and I’m staying.’

  ‘No. That’s not fair to you.’

  ‘Life isn’t fair. If it was fair Jules wouldn’t have died, and my father wouldn’t have got cancer, and I wouldn’t have a job and neither would you, because we wouldn’t be needed. It’s not fair, but it’s what we have, and we have to make the best of every single moment of it, and that means staying together.’

  ‘But what about the children? What about Amber—?’ Her voice cracked, and she felt his arms tighten.

  ‘Let’s not worry about them yet, let’s get you sorted first and find out what’s going on and deal with it, OK? Because it’s probably nothing.’

  She sat up and sniffed, and he stuffed a tissue into her hand and she blew her nose and lay down again, her head on his shoulder, determined not to cry.

  ‘I keep telling myself that. It’s happened before. I had a cyst and they got all excited about it, but—you know, it’s just there, the threat, it’s always there, and I ignore it and just get on with life and then it sneaks up and bites me when I’m not looking. That’s why I was so crabby, because I knew it could happen, but I never expected it—’

  ‘I know. I never expected Jules to die, I didn’t expect to lose my father in his early sixties, but that doesn’t mean I wish I’d never known them, never loved them. Marry me, Livvy. Let me be here for you. Let me love you.’

  Her heart turned over, the longing to say yes overwhelming her. ‘No. I can’t. I won’t. I’m not going to marry you because you feel sorry for me, or because you’re lonely, or because you want to atone for not being there for Jules when she died—’

  ‘That’s not why I’m asking you to marry me! I don’t feel sorry for you. I hate what’s happened to you, what’s happening now, but it’s not pity. And I don’t want to marry you because I’m lonely, and it’s certainly not because I feel guilty about Jules, because I don’t. There was nothing anyone could have done. Even if I’d been there, she would probably have died, or at best been in a vegetative state, and she would have hated that. I want to marry you because I love you.’

  She shook her head, trying not to listen, shutting out the words she couldn’t bear to hear because she wanted it so much, wanted him so much—

  ‘Please don’t love me, Matt, please. I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt.’

  ‘Then don’t hurt me,’ he said simply. ‘Let me in, Livvy. Let me help you, let me be there for you, love me back, because that’s all I need. I don’t need guarantees, I don’t need certainty, I just need you, for as long as I can have you, whether that’s six weeks or sixty years.’

  She turned her head and stared at him.

  ‘Sixty years?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You’ll be ninety-six.’

  ‘Yeah. If I’m lucky. I’m working on the principle I could live that long, so I’m taking care of myself, but I don’t expect it, I’m not banking on it, and I’m not putting anything off until tomorrow because it may not be there.’

  He stroked her hair, his fingers gentle as he brushed it away from her face.

  ‘I know the future’s uncertain, but you’re denying us the certainty of happiness for the uncertain possibility that your cancer could come back, maybe now, maybe years down the line, maybe never. I’ll take that risk, Livvy. I’ll take it hands down over losing you for nothing, because I love you,’ he murmured, and then his lips found hers, his kiss tender and—steadfast?

  Odd word, but it popped into her head and made her want to cry, because that was just him all over.

  ‘Make love to me,’ she whispered, and he got up and locked the bedroom door and came back to her, pulling her to her feet and kissing her again, his mouth coaxing, tender.

  He undressed her slowly, and she turned her head and looked out at the darkening sky and silver sea beyond the open doors.

  ‘Aren’t you going to close the curtains?’

  ‘No. Nobody can see in. We’re too high, and anyway, the lights aren’t on.’

  He stripped off his clothes and led her back to the bed, his mouth finding hers again, his touch gentle. His body gleamed silver in the moonlight, and she ran her hand over his skin, feeling the texture of it, more alive than she’d ever been because this moment was so precious, and she wanted to store every moment of it, to save it in her memory bank. Just in case...

  She cradled his face in her hands, kissing him back a little desperately, and she felt the nip of his teeth on her lip, the heat of his breath as he explored her body, wringing every drop of sensation out of her.

  Their lovemaking was touched with sweetness, but also desperation, a poignant tenderness and honesty that unravelled her, and when it was over he lifted his head and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  ‘Now tell me you don’t love me,’ he said unevenly, and she bit her lip and turned her head away.

  ‘Come on, Livvy. Tell me you don’t love me as much as I love you. Go on, Livvy. Say it.’

  ‘I can’t say it.’

  ‘Why? Why can’t you say it?’

  She turned her head back and stared straight into his eyes.

  ‘Because I do love you,’ she whispered, and his eyes filled and he gathered her into his arms and cradled her against his heart.

  ‘Thank you. Thank you for being honest with me at last. I love you, too, Livvy. So very, very much. And we can do this, my love. We’ll get there, somehow. It’ll be all right.’

  Would it? She doubted it. She’d given up on miracles a long, long time ago—but then she hadn’t had Matt in her life.

  Could she let him love her?

  Could she let herself love him, and his children?

  Maybe he was right and they didn’t have a choice, not about any of it.

  * * *

  He lifted his hand and stroked the hair back off her face. ‘Are you OK?’

  She nodded. ‘I just want it over. I want to know, whatever it is. It’s the not knowing that’s so hard.’

  ‘I know. Have you eaten?’

  ‘Eaten?’ she said, as if he’d asked her if she could fly, and he laughed softly.

  ‘Yes, eaten. I’m starving. Do you fancy a sandwich?’

  ‘Have you got any hummus and celery or peppers or whatever?’

  ‘I think so. Why don’t you have a shower while I go and raid the fridge?’

  He closed the curtains then and pulled on his underwear and left her to it, padding downstairs in bare feet to see what he could find, and a few minutes later she appeared, her hair wrapped in a towel, wearing the shirt he’d taken off with the cuffs turned back, and looking unbearably lovely.

  ‘That shirt’s never looked so good,’ he said with a smile, and she smiled back at him, her eyes sad and wounded still but a little less afraid.

  ‘Did you find hummus?’

  ‘I’ve found all sorts of things. Shall we eat here?’

  She nodded and settled herself on the bar stool. ‘Matt, I don’t think I should stay. What about the children?’

  ‘What about them? You can use the spare room if you want, but I don’t think it’s necessary. They’re going to have to get used to it.’

  ‘No. Matt, no. I can’t do this to you—’

  ‘You’re not doing it to me.’ />
  ‘Or them.’

  He looked away, his heart sinking.

  ‘Let’s just get through the weekend, eh? I’ll call the hospital in the morning and clear my diary for Monday. What time’s your appointment?’

  ‘Two, but—’

  ‘OK. I can do that.’

  ‘You don’t need to come!’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’ve said I will, and I will. You’re not driving yourself all that way. Do your parents know?’

  ‘No, and I’m not telling them, so please don’t.’

  ‘OK. That’s fair enough, there’s no need to spook them. You can talk to them afterwards, when it’s all fine.’

  ‘If.’

  ‘When. Here, have something to eat.’

  * * *

  She didn’t know what he told the children the next morning, but Charlie just ran around in his own little world, driving cars along the walls and screeching round the garden making aeroplane noises, and Amber sat at the table in a shady corner of the patio with a colouring book and some pencils and watched her out of the corner of her eye.

  She was sitting on Matt’s bench hoping that the sun would thaw the cold place inside her, and he’d gone in to make them all a drink and a snack when Amber got up and came over to her, wriggling up onto the bench beside her.

  ‘Why are you sad?’ she asked softly, and Livvy felt her heart squeeze.

  ‘I’m not sad, sweetheart, I’m just a little worried about something.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not sad?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. What are you colouring?’

  ‘A butterfly. Do you want to help me?’

  Yes, but was it a good idea? To bond with her, and let Amber get closer to her—just in case...?

  ‘Would you like me to?’

  ‘Yes, please. It’s very beautiful. It’ll make you feel better.’

  It did, oddly. Not the colouring, although concentrating hard on it was nicely distracting, but the quiet company of this gentle and affectionate little girl was very soothing, and they spent a large part of the day sitting side by side over the colouring book while Matt entertained Charlie and kept supplying them with drinks and snacks.

  And that night, after the children were in bed and they’d eaten the curry he’d made for them, he took her to bed and made love to her again, and yet again his gentleness made her cry.

  ‘I’m sorry. I just...’

  ‘I know. It’s OK,’ he murmured, and held her until she fell asleep.

  On Sunday they borrowed the Shackletons’ dog, Molly, and went for a walk, down to the harbour and along the river wall. Molly was too big for either of the children to hold, so Matt had her on her lead and walked with Charlie, and Amber slipped her hand into Livvy’s and skipped along beside her behind them, pointing out the gaunt ribs of old boats that had sunk in the mud at the edge of the river.

  ‘Daddy said they might have been smugglers,’ she said, eyes wide, and Livvy found herself smiling.

  They had lunch outside the pub overlooking the harbour, with Molly begging shamelessly, and then walked back up to the house and handed her back to her family, and somehow the rest of the day crawled slowly by.

  She couldn’t sleep that night, and while Matt was asleep she put his shirt on again and crept out through the doors and sat on the balcony, listening to the faint, distant sound of the sea sucking on the shingle as the tide receded. It was soothing and rhythmical, and if she’d thought she could do it without waking him she would have let herself out and gone down there.

  But then he would have woken and been worried, and he didn’t deserve that, so she sat and stared into the darkness, watching the lights on a ship moving slowly across her field of view, until finally a pale silver light crept over the edge of the sea and the sky began to lighten.

  Monday.

  She’d thought it would never come, and now it had, she wished it hadn’t.

  She heard a faint sound and turned, and he was standing there in the doorway, his hand held out to her. She took it and let him lead her back to bed.

  * * *

  She took the whole day off work, but Matt was in clinic until twelve, which meant she was alone in her house all morning, and of course she was swamped with nerves and dread and negative thoughts that wouldn’t leave her alone.

  ‘It’ll be nothing,’ she kept telling herself, but then Matt pulled up at the gate and she walked out of the front door into his arms and burst into tears.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she sobbed, but he just held her for a moment until she’d pulled herself together, handed her a tissue and put her in the car, then slid behind the wheel and reached over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  They walked into the breast clinic, she gave her name and the receptionist smiled at her.

  ‘I’ll just get the breast-care nurse to come and talk to you,’ she said, and she felt the blood drain from her face because this was what had happened before, when she had been diagnosed.

  ‘Livvy? Come and sit down, you’re white as a sheet.’

  He led her to a chair and sat with his arm around her, and then the breast-care nurse came out, all smiles.

  ‘Hi, Livvy. Don’t worry, there are just a few little dots in your left breast and the consultant wants a closer look. They look like cysts, like you had before, but he just wants to be sure, OK? We won’t keep you long.’

  She nodded, and her hand found its way into Matt’s and clung like a limpet until she was called in.

  Then called again, and then again, because the consultant still wasn’t happy that he’d seen enough.

  ‘I’m sorry. Hopefully that’ll be it,’ the radiographer said, and she went back out into the waiting room and Matt gathered her into his arms.

  ‘OK?’

  ‘Sort of. You know those olive presses they have to squeeze the oil out?’ she said, and he chuckled and dropped a kiss on her lips.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It’s not your fault.’

  She was then sent off for an ultrasound, and finally the breast-care nurse showed them into the consultant’s office and his smile told her everything she wanted to know.

  ‘Hi, Livvy, sorry about that, but it’s good news, it’s all fine. Just cysts, the one you had before and a couple of new ones. They’re all tiny, but the one that was there before hasn’t grown, so we’ll keep monitoring them, but I’m absolutely certain they’re not cancer, so you can relax.’

  Beside her she heard Matt’s huff of relief, but she wasn’t convinced. It couldn’t be that easy—

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He smiled patiently. ‘Yes, Livvy, I’m sure. You’re fine. I’m signing you off. I still want an eye kept on those cysts, but as far as I’m concerned your cancer’s gone, there’s no sign of it anywhere, the oncology team have discharged you—you’re done.’

  ‘And the tamoxifen?’

  He shrugged. ‘You’ve had it for five years. You could keep taking it, or you could stop. It’s up to you, but it’s probably not necessary any more. You’re at no more risk now than anybody else.’

  ‘And my fertility?’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t answer that, because it’s not that straightforward and everyone’s different, but what I would say is make sure you don’t get pregnant for at least six months to allow the tamoxifen to clear your system, and I would recommend you never use any hormonal contraception. Apart from that, all I can say is go away and enjoy your life.’

  He stood up and shook her hand, and then Matt’s, pausing with a puzzled frown.

  ‘I remember you. Matt Hunter, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. I remember you, too. Good to see you again—especially with good news.’

  He smiled. ‘Take care of her. She’s very special to us.’

  His arm closed round her shoulde
rs, holding her firmly against his side. ‘Don’t worry, I will. She’s very special to me, too.’

  He led her out of the room, down the corridor and into his arms.

  ‘I’m OK,’ she said, and burst into tears.

  * * *

  He held her close, his eyes firmly shut, somehow keeping his own emotions in check, and then when she lifted her head he kissed away her tears and handed her a tissue.

  ‘You have an unending supply of these,’ she said, and he chuckled.

  ‘I do. I have small children. I also have shares in the company.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said, laughing, and her lips tipped into the first proper smile he’d seen for days.

  ‘Will your parents be at home?’

  ‘Maybe. It’s Monday, they both finish pretty early.’

  ‘Let’s go and see. There’s something I want to ask your father, and you need to tell them you’ve been signed off.’

  ‘I do. They’ll be relieved.’

  No doubt. He knew he was, but it wasn’t over yet because he still had to convince Livvy to let him into her life, and if there was one thing he knew about her, it was just how stubborn she could be, but maybe he could marshal an ally.

  They were there, and she walked into the kitchen and told them the good news, and the relief on their faces was a joy to see.

  They broke out the champagne—the bottle he’d given Oliver for his birthday, Matt noticed—and he and Livvy had a tiny glass each, him because he was driving, her because she didn’t drink now, but this was different, and it needed toasting.

  Then the conversation moved on, and he caught Oliver’s eye.

  ‘Can I have a word? I’ve got a patient who you’ve seen in the past, and there’s something I want to run by you. Can we go into your study?’

  * * *

  ‘What was that all about?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much. Just a mutual patient. Sorry we had to rush away, but Mum’s still not feeling amazing and I need to get back to put the kids to bed.’

  ‘That’s fine. You can drop me home.’