I zip up the last bag and make my way into the main living area. Henry is napping in an oversized leather chair in the corner, the fireplace flickers and pops in front of him. I cross the room and sit on the arm of the chair next to him, staring into the orange dancing flames.
Without warning, I feel his arms wrap around my waist and pull me onto the chair with him. I grab onto the edge, trying to steady myself, and prevent the full force of my body weight from resting on his slender frame.
“I’ve got you,” he says reassuringly.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I explain.
“I said I’ve got you.” With a deep breath, I release my grip and fall back onto his lap.
“I thought you were sleeping,” I say.
“That was my plan.”
“Is that right? You pretended to be asleep on the off-chance I would come over here and sit next to you?”
Henry snickers. “No, I pretended to be asleep so you would pack all the bags.”
“Henry!” I exclaim, a huge smile spreading across my face. He pulls me in, close against his body, and kisses my neck. I sigh as the warmth of the fire surrounds us both. The moment couldn’t be any more perfect.
“I love you,” he whispers softly.
Pulling away, I look into his eyes, and before I even think about it, I suggest, “Let’s stay here.”
“What?” he asks obviously surprised.
I surprise even myself with the statement. Though I had the thought earlier, it never crossed my mind we could actually stay. But here, in this moment, I see no reason why we can’t. “What if we stayed? I mean, I know Manhattan is our home, and I’m not saying we would never go back, but this place it’s—”
“Magical.”
“You feel it, too.”
“I thought you wanted me to go through with the treatment?” Henry asks, confused.
“I do,” I quickly add. “But why can’t you go through the chemotherapy at a facility here? And then once the tumor shrinks, and you’re ready for surgery, we can head back to New York.”
Henry thinks about my proposition for a moment. “I suppose I can call Dr. Abbott and ask his opinion.”
“Yes, there, that sounds like a brilliant idea,” I agree, and my heart begins to race with excitement and anticipation.
“Winter in the Hamptons is absolutely incredible,“ he continues, naming off all of the positives he can think about with this plan. “And I’ll really get some quality rest here. We can also have that chef we’ve been using come in and cook for—”
“Hey, wait, slow down, I think I can cook a few meals for my husband,” I interject.
“Oh … well, I mean, I guess, if you really want to.”
I laugh, pushing my shoulder into his. “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.”
“No, but I wouldn’t exactly call you that good of a cook either.”
“Too bad, our vows said for better or worse, and I do believe the worse part includes enduring my terrible cooking,” I inform him, smiling gleefully.
“All right, if I must,” he relents in a humorous tone. A silence falls over us, lingering for a moment. “There’s something else I want to talk about with you.”
He sounds so serious all of the sudden, I feel a flash of anxiety fill my chest. “What is it?”
“I don’t want you to get angry with me.”
“What on Earth could I ever get angry with you about?” I ask, now nervous.
“I’m serious. I want you to hear me out,” Henry urges.
I sit upright, shifting my weight back to the arm of the chair. “You’re starting to scare me.”
“I don’t mean to scare you, but we need to talk.”
“So talk,” I reply pointedly.
Henry sighs; he looks to the fire as if he were searching the colors for the right words.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
His gaze shifts back to mine, as he takes my hand into his. “Paige, I love you more than anything in this world. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
“I love you, too,” I add hesitantly. “Is this a bad thing?”
“No, I know you love me, and that’s why this is so important for me to say,” he begins again. “I want you to know that I’m going to fight this the best I can, and I promise, I won’t quit until I have nothing left in me.”
“You’re going to beat this, Henry. We’re going to beat this.”
“Please, just let me get through this. I love you, and I am so happy that I get to wake up every morning for the rest of my life to your beautiful smile and terrible cooking. I want nothing more than to sit next to you when we’re old and gray, in our rocking chairs, and watch the waves crash against the shore. But no matter how hard I fight, there’s still a strong chance I’m not going to make it through this.“