That explained a great deal. "Is this is where you come during your errands?"
"Sometimes … along with the other places I told you. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with me for a long time. A week before I met you, I was short of breath and had a heart palpitation. That had never happened to me. They said it was a panic attack. But it didn't make sense to me. I insisted on more tests. Then they suspected I might be on drugs. Ridiculous."
He'd been dealing with this the whole time we were together. He'd concealed it away, tucked it beneath his rough exterior, choosing to be alone in the sorrow. My poor, lonely, lost boy.
"They did so many tests. Then when I finally found out, I was trying to get a grip on it. Figure out what the right thing to do was. You were already a part of my life by then."
"The right thing was to leave me?"
His cell phone vibrated. "I was trying to save you from it. Ask me why I'm not a good guy, Billie."
"Why aren't you a good guy, Evan?"
"I let you fall for me. I knew it was happening and I didn't stop it."
"Did you fall for me?"
He hugged me tighter, his lips moving against my forehead. "I crashed heart first and head last, angel."
I'd held it in this whole time, but a powerful tremble rolled through my body. He tightened his arms around me. We stayed like that for several minutes, until his phone buzzed again.
"I have to go now. They're calling me."
"I'm coming in with you."
"I'm just here for meds. It's come down to that."
There was a finality in his words I refused to accept. I followed him back inside. He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut off any protests.
"I'm coming in with you," I said softly.
He didn't respond but he didn't stop me either. The doctor wasn't annoyed that Evan had kept him waiting. In fact, they had a pleasant conversation about sports scores. I sat impatiently, being introduced only as Billie. Evan confirmed that the doctor could discuss his case with me. Evan was a case-a case.
The doctor, an elderly man with a shiny balding head, threw around terminology I didn't understand. I texted the words to myself, vowing to look it all up later. He signed the prescriptions and gave Evan precautions on each medication. I watched the exchange, thinking the slips from the prescription pad looked like little white flags. I searched for it … a ray of light, a shred of hope, a raft to carry us away from all this. All I saw were the white flags of surrender.
"What about radiation?" I asked in a voice so low I had to repeat myself.
"We can't do it on this type of tumor. Too close to the heart. It's likely to cause an immediate failure," the doctor answered.
"What about removal?"
"Billie," Evan said, shaking his head.
The doctor answered anyway. "Again, a surgery would be extremely difficult given the location."
"Does difficult mean impossible?" I asked, sitting up in my chair.
"No it does not, but I doubt you'd be able to find any surgeons willing to perform it."
And there it was.
My shred of hope.
On the way out, I practiced all the things I wanted to say to Evan. He rode his motorcycle. I had Tilla's car and followed behind him.
The apartment he lived in was bare, sparsely furnished, but a few things instantly drew my attention. He'd put out the pictures of his family and the one I'd given him of Orange Beach. They sat on a mantle, surrounded by a collection of wine corks. I swallowed with the realization that they were our wine corks-all the unfinished bottles between us. Even the cork I'd split was there. He'd saved them.
"I can remember each one of these conversations."
"I had no idea you were so sentimental."
"Neither did I."
I turned to him, but he held up his hands before I could hug him.
"I can't have the surgery. No doctor in their right mind would even attempt it."
"We'll look for one together."
He sighed, pacing back and forth. "Let me give you a shot of reality. They've done this kind of surgery before. It's considered experimental. There's a less than thirty percent survival rate."
"Last I checked, thirty is hell of a lot better than zero. It means people can survive it. You are strong and young. If anyone has a good chance, it's you."
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I felt the shake in his fingers. "I can't afford it. Insurance will not pay for this. Despite what you think, I've looked into it. I've done the research."
For this, I had an answer too.
"You looked into it on your own. Not with me helping you. Together we can find all the answers. Also, my stepfather is a very wealthy man."
Evan appeared surprised by my statement. "The guy in the old truck?"
"Yeah, you know how some people have bumper stickers that say ‘My other car is a Porsche 911?' Damien's other car really is a Porsche 911. He's a real estate developer. He likes to live a normal life, but he is one of the richest men in Chicago. I've never asked him for anything, but he would do this for us. I'll talk to him."
Evan shook his head. "No."
"You'd rather die than swallow your pride?"
"I'd rather die than give you false hope. It would have been better if you never met me."
"Do you wish Owen or Erin didn't exist for you?"
"Of course not."
"Then don't every wish yourself out of my life again. I'll never wish you away, Evan."
He stood behind me, pressing against me. His hot mouth on my neck. "Will you please respect my decision? I've spent the last months coming to terms with it."
"I've only had a few hours," I spat, the anger coursing through every vein.
His muscles tightened, but he didn't let go. "That's my fault. I'm sorry."
"You could have made your condition worse. We went surfing, for Christ's sake." I cupped my hand to my mouth. "We had crazy monkey sex."
He chuckled. "Baby, I wanted to spend our time living. They were monitoring the tumor and it was growing fast, but I wasn't in a danger zone yet. I was trying to beat the clock. I didn't feel sick … not then."
"And now?"
"Now is a different story."
"Do you live here by yourself?"
"My uncle, my dad's brother, lives close by. It's not much, but it's close to the hospital."
"Evan, even if you don't do the surgery, you need someone to take care of you."
"I'll call them when its time."
"Who?"
"Hospice."
He planned to die alone.
"Were we doing your bucket list with that road trip?"
He spun me around to face him. "I was saying goodbye in my own way. Trying to right some of my wrongs. I wouldn't have had the strength for it if you weren't with me."
"You're not going to tell them either, are you?" The question sounded sharp, like an accusation. He winced in response.
"No."
"Evan-"
"I love you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that night. I couldn't do it. Let me love you right now. Let me show you how much I love you. I'm having a good day today. Let's not waste it."
He kissed me, softly at first, building it until our mouths sought each other with complete greed. Evan was using sex as a way to pause or maybe stop the conversation. I shouldn't let him, but I also had trouble denying him. I'd missed him so much. He walked me to the bed, leaving a trail of clothes dotting the short path.
I fell back. He stared at me, the intensity of his gaze causing my skin to prickle and my toes to curl. He kissed me everywhere. As if he was trying to memorize my body with his lips. I started crying. He kissed those tears away.
"Shhh, don't cry … unless it's 'cause you're in ecstasy from the orgasm I'm going to give you."
He caressed me as he headed downward … a route he often took.
"You're wet," he said, a mischievous smile on his face.
"You're here, aren't you?"
He pushed my legs apart. He clasped an ankle, bringing it up to his waist. His thrusts were slow. He stared into my eyes the whole time.
"I love you, Billie Marie Price," he whispered. "I love you with every beat of my heart and I'm sorry it's damaged beyond repair, because you don't deserve that."
"I love you too, and there is nothing damaged about you."
I wiped away his tears. And held him tightly. I rolled us over and straddled him.
"I'm going to fuck you today," I said. "The way I want to, and you're going to let me."
"Yes, ma'am."
I leaned forward, flattening my hands on the wall to steady myself. I ground into him, each push and pull stealing my breath, but even in this Evan couldn't let me have my way. He grasped my hips and rolled me in a steady rhythm. I would have protested but the pulsing pleasure of it left me speechless. He watched my face carefully.