Page 125 of Love Undecided
Epilogue
Kat
So far treatment is staving off the cancer. It’s not diminishing, but it’s not growing either. Since it’s been six months, I consider myself lucky.
Tonight is the annual Law Enforcement Ball, which includes a, sometimes contentious, blend of firefighters, police officers, and detectives.
But it’s hard, when we go out, to acclimate myself with my appearance again. My hair is thinning, my face is bloated, and my complexion is splotchy. Tonight, I’m wearing a backless, slinky black dress, better suited as lingerie, and a dangerously high pair of stilettos. But I can’t decide between my hair and a cute little fascinator hat, or a wig.
I’m sitting at my little makeup table in the bathroom, going back and forth with each on my head.
Brad comes up behind me, he puts his hands on my shoulders as he leans in to nuzzle my neck. He peeks up at me in the mirror.
“You look amazing, baby,” he says.
“No I don’t. I look terrible.”
“You look amazing to me.”
“I don’t want to look amazing to you. I want to look amazing to everyone.”
He raises one eyebrow at me.
I have got to learn that eyebrow trick.
“You know what I mean,” I tell him.
“Go with the Angelica Houston looking wig,” he says. “It makes you look dangerous and your eyes totally pop.” He says the last part with a bit of a lilt in his voice and I can’t get but laugh.
“I love you,” I tell him.
“Not more than I love you,” he says, his voice normal.
“God, we’ve gotten sappy,” I say.
“It’s so gross, right?” he says, his voice back to the lilt. He’s in his dress uniform, and he looks amazing. I can’t help but eat him up with my eyes.
“Keep looking at me like that and we won’t be going anywhere,” he says as he swoops down to kiss my neck again. He gets me in that spot and I groan, instantly eager and wet.
“Do we have time for a quickie?” I ask.
“Only if you put on the wig,” he says.
* * *
We get to the Ball just in time to take advantage of the end of cocktail hour. I can’t drink when I’m in treatment, so Brad gets me a club soda with lime from the bar, and a local craft brew for himself. We settle ourselves into a corner of the ballroom and watch the people. I’m not quite as up for socializing lately as I’ve been in the past. I see two very familiar looking heads, but they disappear almost as quickly. I shake my head.
“What’s the matter?” Brad asks.
“Nothing, I just thought I saw Remi with Bauer. It was weird. I think my eyes are playing tricks on me.”
“It sounds like it.”
Then I see a flash of pink hair and am convinced it’s Lexie.
“I swear I just saw Lexie too. I think I’m going off the deep end, babe,” I say. Brad turns me around to face him.
“Imagining your friends is one thing, but if it turns into dancing unicorns or scary clowns, let me know.”
