Page 68 of Love Beyond Repair
I was angry with Bex for not telling me she was pregnant. She cheated me out of years in my son’s life. It stung. I wanted him to love me more. Part of me wanted to turn him against her.
The worst part is, I justified it to myself. Told myself I deserved a chance to catch up, to make up for lost time. But it was pathetic. She never tried to turn him against me. Bex showed up, time after time, doing the job of two parents while I played Fun-Dad.
But Liam’s a kind and loving little boy. He accepted his extended family as a blessing. He loves the bones of his mum. Now, I’m glad I saw sense.
We’ve changed things since then. I’ve changed. Now, weekends are spent doing puzzles or building Lego sets. Itake photos and file them away. It’s not much, but it’s real. And Liam smiles every second.
Tonight, she looks perfect in my living room, on my sofa, one leg crossed over the other. My heart breaks for what could have been. This is the woman I’ve yearned for, for all these years.
When I left her after our holiday in Spain, I was heartbroken. Going back to Kelsey felt like the right thing to do. But I still look at the photos of those magical weeks together and regret my decision. I never stopped revisiting what we had.
When Bex disappeared from my life after our last night together, I was relieved. I tried to focus on being a good husband and father, but all this time, she was raising my child. The irony is palpable.
I stare at the two mugs in front of me, declaring meThe World’s Greatest DadandBest Doctor Ever.Neither feels true. One was a Father’s Day gift from Ollie. The other, a joke from Eamon. I’ve never felt less worthy of either title. A reminder of what I’ve been given, and what I nearly lost.
“Is that coffee ever coming?” Bex’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, sorry, in another world,” I call back. In a parallel universe where things worked out as they should have, I think cynically.
Before sitting on the sofa opposite her, I place the mug down. She smells of fresh flowers and peppermint, and I breathe in deeply. Right now, all I want to do is fold her in my arms and not let go. Having her here in my home with our son just feels right. This was how life was meant to turn out until I messed it up.
I want to tell her that. I want to say I’m sorry again, not just for the past, but for every time I’ve made this harder than it needed to be. But my pride always shows up first.
She stays for an hour. We chat about Liam. Our conversation always remains on him. Anything else is either irrelevant or dangerous. It will open conversations I’m not sure I’m ready to have.
She finishes her coffee and walks over to place it in the sink. There’s something so natural about the way she does it, and my heart twists again. She leaves after confirming when our boy will be returned to her.
And everything becomes a darker shade of gray when she goes.
***
Due to workforce shortages and other political drama, the local hospitals in our area are struggling for staff. A small charity approached my private hospital and asked if any ofus could volunteer some time, mainly speaking with and supporting people with a terminal illness.
Today, I’m at the Cancer Center in Guy’s Hospital supporting the team.
This is my third session, so I’m becoming more familiar with both the staff and patients. We congregate in small groups of one doctor to six patients, then out come the coffee and biscuits.
The discussion is open about what they can expect from the treatment, personal prognosis, and end-of-life care. Most who attend the sessions are the patients themselves, but occasionally, a caregiver will come in an attempt to make sense of the crazy situation they’ve found themselves in.
My noon session draws to a close, and I go in search of Eamon. It’s lunchtime, and we always avoid the hospital cafeteria. My first experience with their soup put me off for life. The vegetable broth, which was clearly home to some sort of meat, was alarming, but when the garlic bread came with chunks of garlic propped on top, I swore to never come back. My stomach heaves at the memory, and I continue my search for my old friend.
He’s standing at the hospital entrance, chatting with three nurses. They’re young and obviously in training. They laugh at his jokes and flutter their eyelashes. His reputation precedes him. I’ve found him often in this situation,nurses lapping up his chatter. He enjoys every minute of it.
Then, I see her. Although she’s faced away, I can see her long blonde hair falling straight down her back. Her running clothes that I love, cling to her curves. She twists her hands as the receptionist looks up something on her computer. The woman gives her a slip of paper: an appointment slip.
My feet freeze. I don’t know why she’s here, but I know whatever it is… it’s going to change everything. The paper shakes in her hand. Her shoulders stiffen as she walks through the door to the cancer center.
I take a step forward, then stop. She didn’t tell me. Whatever’s going on… she didn’t tell me. And that silence scares me more than anything.
Chapter thirty-five
Bex
Clutching the appointment card in my hand, I read the signCancer Centerin bold letters. My heart hammers in my chest as I walk through the doors. I haven’t told anyone about the lump, and it’s been playing on my mind every day.
A few weeks ago, I was in the shower going through my usual routine. My hands slid down, and there on my left breast, below my nipple, was a small bump. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. Hormones. Everything is down to hormones, I thought. But after a week, it became more pronounced, and I decided I should get it checked.
Now, here I am, waiting for the results of the biopsy the doctor requested. The waiting room is filled with peopleof all ages. Most are here with a companion. Sometimes, it’s obvious who the patient is, and other times, it is hard to tell.
