Page 735 of The Tempted

“I won’t,” I promise.

“I love you, Nicole,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Dad,” I sob. “I’ll see you the day after next.”

“I’m looking forward to it, sweetheart,” he says. For the first time in a long time I hear my father’s voice crack, and I know he is crying right along with me.

“Nicole Pastore?” the nurse calls.

Not ready to hang up, I feel my heart shatter even more as I lift my head and stare at the nurse.

“The doctor’s ready to see me,” I say regretfully.

“Remember who’s in charge,” he says.

“Me,” I affirm.

“That’s right.”

I don’t want to hang up,” I admit.

“Go, I will see you in a few days,” he soothes. “It’s going to be okay, Nikki. I promise you it will be okay.”

I nod as if he is standing before me, clutching the phone as though it’s my salvation.

“I’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he says. “Keep shining,” he adds before ending the call.

You see what I mean? Your parents are never too far, always stepping in right when you need them. My dad called me to remind me of who I am, instilling all the values he taught me throughout the years. I’m a fighter and I always have the last word when it comes to the course of my life. Then, when I couldn’t bring myself to hang up, he did, knowing Ineededthat too.

I’m going to miss that.

Mikey takes my hands as I pocket my phone and pulls me to my feet.

“We’ve got this, Princess,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my lips.

“Yeah we do,” I agree, squeezing his hands before glancing at my mother. “Will you come in with us? We could always use the extra pair of ears in case we miss something or forget to ask an important question.”

“Of course,” she whispers.

Three of us physically walk into the doctor’s office but four spirits were present. My father was with me, his words fresh in my mind as I sat down and listened as the doctor read me my results. I knew then that my dad will always be with me. Even after he passes, his voice will always float around in my head, reminding me of all the things I sometimes forget, reassuring me I am Victor Pastore’s daughter and I am a fighter. Like my dad, I don’t know the meaning of defeat.

Endometriosis.

I didn’t have cancer.

And while I probably should’ve been devastated that my case was so severe and that the doctor suggested surgery, I was too relieved that I didn’t have cancer to give my illness much thought.

My mom closes her eyes and silently thanks Saint Anthony, and I close my eyes and thank my dad.

Mikey squeezes my hand tightly as he breathes a sigh of relief.

Today I was going to bask in the glory that I was okay, just like my dad promised.

Tomorrow I’d worry about the possibility of not having a child.

I’ll probably cry.

I’ll probably wish things were different.

I’ll ask myselfwhy me.

What did I do to deserve this?

I’ll worry about what it means for my relationship.

But then I’ll remember my father’s words, and I’ll fight.

Because I determine the course of my life.

My dad taught me well.

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