by Mina Quin
“What growth?” Wil shook his head, suddenly overwhelmed by the words the doctor spoke as his scrambled brain tried to make sense of them. “I don’t understand. Camden isn’t sick. Is he?” He asked tentatively, though he already knew the answer even as he asked the question. It certainly explained a lot if he were ill.
The doctor frowned. “I assumed he had told you, Mr. Norris-Marsh. Without his consent, I’m not at liberty to—”
“Don’t give me that HIPAA crap,” said Wil. “My husband is lying there in whatever state he’s in, and I know nothing about what’s going on. You’re not keeping me in the dark. He had no right to do so, and I’m sorry it’s fallen to you, but you’re going to tell me the truth. Right now.”
Dr. Briggs hesitated for just a second, and then he nodded with an understanding look in his eye. “As long as you don’t reveal me as your source, I’ll share what I know. Camden came to my practice a little over eighteen months ago, referred by his own general practitioner because he was having headaches. We ran the standard battery of tests and discovered he has a brain tumor.”
Wil gasped, pressing his hand to his mouth. Wil’s eyes burned, and he blinked back tears.
“It’s deeper in his brain and infiltrating both the cerebrum and cerebellum, so removal is tricky. Camden opted not to have the surgery, though he did consent to radiation as the tumor has grown, and his symptoms progressively worsened.”
“Is he suffering?” Wil’s heart clenched as he imagined what Camden had gone through, and he hadn’t felt free to share it with Wil.
The doctor nodded. “He’s in almost constant pain, so radiation helped to alleviate some of the pressure after the initial swelling from treatment subsided slightly. Three days ago, he blacked out on the street and was brought to the hospital. It was then I learned the tumor is growing despite the radiation, and the window of removal is almost closed.”
Wil licked his lips. “So why wasn’t he still in the hospital?”
“I tried to get him to stay for observation and monitoring, and I also tried to persuade him once again to have the surgery, but he refused both suggestions. As a competent adult, he has the final say, and I can’t force him to stay. Once his pain was under control, and he assumed he was strong enough to leave the hospital, he signed himself out. And now he’s back in the emergency room again tonight.”
A sob escaped Wil, and he pressed his hand to his mouth to hold it back, knowing an emotional breakdown might be cathartic, but would serve no other purpose. “He’s been sick for year-and-a-half, and he never told me.” Wil’s hand dropped his belly, and suddenly the realization of why Camden had asked to marry him and have a child with Wil crashed over him.
He had sensed his time was running out, so he had seized the opportunity to have a child to carry on his legacy. Wil had been a friend, and he had known they got along well. He likely hadn’t expected to fall in love with him, and he clearly hadn’t expected to ever tell Wil the truth about his illness. He was just supposed to wake up one day a widower, not knowing why his husband had died until an autopsy report revealed his secret.
Through gritted teeth, he asked, “Why won’t he have the surgery?”
“Due to the position of the tumor, there are numerous risks involved. Camden will likely lose some physical capabilities and some mental skills as well.”
“Like what?”
“He might forget how to walk or talk or read. He could forget his alphabet or how to count, and I think scariest of all for him, he could lose all of his memories.”
He took a deep breath, feeling shaky and fighting nausea. “If he loses those things, will they come back eventually?”
Dr. Briggs sighed and then shrugged. “We just don’t know, Mr. Norris-Marsh. More than likely, he can relearn some of the skills that he loses from surgery, but if he loses his memories, it will be from a physical injury to the area, and it’s unlikely those will ever return. He might be able to make new memories, or he might end up with permanent damage to both short-term and long-term memory processing. In other words, he might forget everything and no longer have the ability to retain new memories.”
Wil sank deeper into the chair, struggling to absorb what he’d heard. “His choices are, if I understand correctly, either attempting a risky surgery that might leave him a complete stranger both to himself and everyone who knows him, or avoiding the surgery and…what? He dies?”
Dr. Briggs nodded slowly. “Yes, that’s essentially it, Mr. Norris-Marsh. The tumor is growing faster than we had anticipated, because I initially gave him three to four years as his prognosis if he chose not to have the surgery. I would say now he has maybe two or three months if he doesn’t have the tumor excised—and if he waits any longer, I won’t be able to remove the tumor, and neither will anyone else.”
Wil took a deep breath. “Would he have faced the same risks if you had taken out the tumor eighteen months ago?”
Dr. Briggs hesitated for a long second. “Perhaps not quite as much risk, but the odds were still about the same. The tumor is larger now and pressing deeper into critical areas, while restricting a surgeon’s maneuverability even further, but his odds weren’t a lot better when he first came to me. It’s a dangerous surgery, and I can’t pretend it isn’t.”
Wil nodded, suddenly grateful when the doctor reached out to take his hand and squeeze lightly. The tears he had tried to suppress poured down his face, and an ugly rasping sound escaped him as he sobbed. It was an impossible choice, and he understood how Camden must have felt, though he couldn’t get over the fact he had hidden this from him. He had known even before they married what was in his future, and he hadn’t trusted Wil enough to share it with him. It hurt terribly, but he had to push that aside to focus on him at the moment. “May I see him?”
Dr. Briggs stood up after squeezing his hand once more and letting go. “Yes, as soon as he’s moved into a different area from the trauma room. He’ll have a private room in the critical care unit, and you can be with him there. I should warn you he hasn’t awakened yet, and I don’t know when he will.”
“Or if?” he asked with a trace of resignation that he hated feeling.
“I think he’ll wake up, but his body is traumatized from trying to push through the pain, and from the lingering effects of his latest round of radiation treatment a few days ago. It always leaves him drained and tired.”
“How long has he been getting the radiation treatments, Dr. Briggs?”
He tilted his head slightly, clear calculating. “I guess it’s been about ten weeks now.”
Wil nodded, the wheels in his mind turning. That coincided with about the time he had ostensibly started working more from his office instead of home, and about the time he had started to withdraw from Wil and what was happening with the baby. Rather than finding his new frame repulsive, or avoiding him since they had accomplished the goal of conceiving, he had focused on his medical treatment. Wil’s heart ached for him, but it also ached for himself to know he could have been beside Camden if only he had allowed it.
He returned to his seat, awaiting a nurse to fetch him once Camden was in his room. Forty minutes later, Wil sat on the chair beside his husband as he rested in the CCU room, his complexion almost as pale as the white sheet tucked under his arms. Wil had never seen him look this vulnerable. He’d always seemed so confident, virile, and commanding in every situation. The consummate Alpha. Wil could only imagine how much he must hate being humbled by his illness, and he reminded himself to tread gently with Camden when he did awaken.
As the time passed, he started thinking about his options. At first, he sympathized with his choice to die, because he couldn’t imagine a worse fate than being alive but not remembering who he was.
However, the more he thought about it, the more that seemed like a selfish decision. They had a child on the way, and if there was even a slight chance surgery could save Camden’s life and preserve even part of his memories, he owed it to both Wil and their daught
er to at least attempt the procedure.
If he died during the operation, it would be no worse than losing Camden in a few weeks or months as he wasted away from the brain tumor. Wil subsided into silence, resting his head on the chair arm as he waited for Camden to stir.
***
“Wil? Is that you?” Camden’s hand reached for his, and Wil jerked awake as he brushed against him.
Wil turned his head slightly in his direction, and tears of happiness filled his eyes to see Camden’s alert expression. Without thought, he lifted his hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back as he carefully avoided the IV. “I was afraid you’d never wake up again.”
His expression bordered between guilty and sad. “I suppose you know everything now?”
Wil nodded slightly, and then he shook his head. “No, I don’t know everything. I know about the brain tumor and the dicey surgery, and I know if you don’t have it you’ll die, but what I don’t know is why the hell you didn’t tell me any of this months ago? Why would you marry me, let me fall in love with you, give me a baby, and not tell me what we were facing in the future?”
Camden winced, and it was difficult to tell whether from the toll of his words or the process of shifting in his bed. “I thought it was better not to tell you, so you didn’t have to worry and deal with the stress.”
Remembering his determination to deal gently with him, at least for now, he sighed. “What I thought was way worse in a way. I just assumed you had gotten tired of me, or you didn’t find me attractive anymore, and you were cheating on me. I would rather have known the truth and been beside you than supposedly blissfully unaware, abandoned at home.”
Camden mirrored his sigh, his hand squeezing Wil’s carefully. “I’m sorry, Wil. I really thought I was doing the right thing, and then I started radiation treatment, and the tumor kept growing, and I started to feel worse and worse. I wanted to tell you, but it seemed unfair to dump it all on you—a dying husband and dealing with the hospice process.”
“You’re an excellent CEO, Camden, and you’re a great lover, but as a husband, you kind of suck right now.” He gave him a tiny smile to ease the sting. “You should have told me the truth right from the start, even before we got married.”
He shook his head and then winced as though regretting the motion. “Honestly, I figured if I told you the truth then, you’d run away, and I wanted you to say yes. I didn’t want to be alone the last year or two of my life, and I desperately wanted a child to carry on my name and my legacy. I couldn’t imagine a better person than you for that role, so I didn’t tell you.”
“It’s a good thing for you that you’re really sick right now, or I might be tempted to kill you myself. For the record, I would have married you anyway. I was almost in love with you then, and I’m completely in love with you now. And I’m terrified of what we’re facing, but I’d much rather know and be a partner in this than left in the dark, only to discover the truth after you’re gone. Do you promise no more lies and untruths from now on?”
Camden nodded slowly. “I promise, and I don’t suppose I could keep anything from you anyway. Dr. Briggs told me yesterday that it was probably about time to start getting a hospice team together and setting up a sick room at home. Unfortunately, you’re going to be intimately involved with the end process, though I wish I could spare you that.”
His face furrowed with pain, but it appeared to be emotional anguish rather than physical discomfort when he reached out to put his hand across Wil’s belly. “I had hoped for more time, so I could meet her. I don’t want to leave either one of you, and not being able to know her is killing me.”
Wil’s eyes burned. “Stop talking about hospice and giving up. There’s a surgery you could try.” He scrubbed at the tears streaming down his cheeks as he half-glared at Camden when he began to shake his head before wincing again. “You have to at least try.”
His lips tightened. “Did Dr. Briggs tell you about the surgery?” At Wil’s nod, he said, “Fine, then he told you all the risks as well? I won’t know who I am, who you are, or even how to count or talk correctly. Hell, I might not even know how to use the damn toilet.”
He nodded. “Those things could happen. On the other hand, you might come out with your memory just fine and spend a long life with us. You have all the time in the world to relearn everything you lose, as long as you remember us. That’s the most important thing—but even if you don’t, I’ll never abandon you. If you lose the memories of what we had, we’ll make new ones together.”
He exhaled harshly. “You’re being incredibly Pollyannaish about this, and I wish you’d look at the reality. The odds are terrible.”
Sensing he couldn’t be sympathetic or falter, Wil glared at him. “You know what the odds are of living if you don’t have the surgery? Absolutely zero. If you don’t at least try, you’re being a selfish bastard. You’re taking away my husband,” He placed his hand on his stomach, “And her father without even attempting something that might save your life. I know you’re not a coward, so don’t act like one. Do the right thing, the brave thing, and have the surgery.”
Camden’s face paled even further, and he seemed on the verge of vomiting for just a second, but when Wil offered him the kidney-shaped beige basin, he pushed it away slowly. “You understand that rather than being a widower, you might be stuck with a useless vegetable, or someone who doesn’t know or remember anything? I could be absolutely nothing by the time this is over.”
Wil had to fight the sob that wanted to escape. “I know, honey, but you’ll certainly be nothing if you let yourself die, Camden.” Taking his hand in both of his, Wil rubbed his thumbs down each side of Camden’s palm. “I know it’s frightening, and I’m scared too, but I’m begging you to please try. Try for us, and try for yourself. The result of the surgery has to be better than just letting yourself die.”
He sighed and collapsed against his pillow, his hand a little slacker in Wil’s. “All right, I’ll think about it, but only if you go get some rest right now. You and the baby both need to avoid exhaustion, and I’ll bet you’ve been here for hours. The key to the corporate apartment is in my coat pocket. The address is 1401 Avion Street, and it’s the penthouse.”
He hesitated, wanting to refuse to leave Camden’s side. The idea of spending any time apart from him, since he had no idea how much time he had left, was heartbreaking and felt wrong. Still, it would give Camden time to clear his mind and consider all the ramifications of just giving up, so Wil supposed he could do that. “Fine, but I’ll be back in four hours.”
“Eight hours,” he said with a stubborn set to his mouth.
“Six hours,” he countered, and that felt like an eternity.
Slowly, Camden nodded, though it was more of an incremental movement than a full nod. “Go rest for six hours, eat something for you and the baby, and I’ll give you an answer when you come back.”
“You’re a stubborn negotiator, Mr. Marsh.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I know, but you can be an obstinate opponent yourself, Mr. Norris-Marsh.”
He didn’t feel all that optimistic, but perhaps things weren’t as hopeless as they had seemed when he’d first entered the CCU room a few hours ago. Wil stood up, flinching as his back popped, and bent over to press a kiss to his husband’s lips. “I love you, Camden. I’m not sure you heard that amid all the other chaos tonight, but I do. And I heard your declaration earlier too.”
“I love you so much, Wil. Whatever happens, this has been the happiest year of my life.”
“It’s only been nine months,” he said with a little wink in his direction. It took all his strength to muster the lighthearted response when what he really wanted to do was throw himself into Camden’s arms and sob against his chest. Since that would do nothing to help him, Wil resisted the urge and left the hospital to find the corporate suite. Once there, he could surrender to the storm of tears threatening that he had not yet had full privacy to unle
ash. After that, he could move on to embrace his role as Camden’s support and try to be hopeful about a seemingly hopeless future.
Chapter Seven
“Well?” asked Wil six hours and fifteen minutes later, when he returned to Camden’s room. A nurse was leaving, carrying a nearly full tray that made his frown when he saw the food had barely been touched. He held in the urge to chastise him to eat, not wanting to derail the discussion or try to force him to do something he couldn’t. “What have you decided?”
“I’ll do it, but…”
He moved closer to his bedside to lean over him. “But what?”
“I want something first.” A slightly wicked grin crossed his face, and Wil realized he had more color and looked better than he had hours earlier.
In his current state, he could have passed for just exhausted from a long day, and he cringed at the times he’d come home looking this way, and Wil hadn’t bothered to look beyond the superficial to see if there was something more than hard work involved in his exhaustion. “What do you want?”
“Lock that door, draw the curtains, and give me one last night to remember my partner.” His lips curved in a downward twist. “If I can remember anything after the surgery, that is.”
“Camden,” he said almost in a screech. “Be serious.”
He gave him a cool look, though his lips twitched a bit. “I am serious. Those are my terms, Wil. I’m willing to have the surgery, and Dr. Briggs said he could perform it tomorrow, but I want you tonight. I want us to forget all this other business and focus on each other. I want to have one night of blissful sex with my partner before I face a surgery that could destroy everything that makes me who I am.”
He nibbled on his lip. “But your health…it’s just so irresponsible.”
Camden gave a bark of laughter, and this time he didn’t wince, which must mean his pain levels were under control. “It might be irresponsible, but it’s also going to be fun. Do you think we’re the first couple who’s ever done this? I doubt it. In fact, Dr. Briggs offered in a roundabout way to cover for us. He said he’d leave orders not to disturb us as soon as the curtains are closed unless we press the call button. So, if you climb on up here to show me a good time, Mr. Norris-Marsh, I’ll get my brain cut open for you tomorrow.”
