“I know it was wrong of me, not telling you, but…” She nervously bites her lip. “Well, a part of me doesn’t regret not telling you, and I know how awful that sounds. But it’s because…well, maybe if I had told you from the start, you wouldn’t have stayed.”
“Boston”—I brush my fingers over her cheek—“I would have stayed.” I tell her this with the certainty I know I feel. “I would have stayed because I’m pretty sure I was in love with you from the moment you surprise-kissed me on the plane. You had me instantly. I wasn’t going anywhere then…and I’m not going anywhere now.”
I run my thumb over her brow, her eyes closing as I do.
The song has long since come to an end. I pick my phone up, moving it to the nightstand by the bed.
“You’re tired. You should get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Sleep with me.” She moves over in the bed, pulling the blanket back.
I don’t need a second invitation. I kick my shoes off and climb into bed beside her.
She pulls the covers over us both and lays her head against my chest. I put my arm around her and start playing with her hair.
“Hunter, do you think they’ll take my earrings out for surgery?” Her fingers touch the airplane earrings that I bought her.
“I don’t know, babe. Maybe.”
“I hope not. I don’t want the holes to heal over. It kinda hurt when I had them done. I don’t want to go through that pain again.”
I chuckle. My girl is about to have major surgery, and she’s worried about having her ears pierced again. Now, that’s the Boston I’ve come to know and love.
And at least she’s talking like she intends to come back. It’s a far cry from where we were this time last night.
And her coming back…well, that’s all I need to hear from her right now.
She goes quiet, her body relaxing into mine, and then, out of nowhere, she tenses up.
“Hunter…I have to tell you something.”
My heart pauses. “What?”
She tilts her head back, staring up into my face, and she bites her lip so hard that I’m worried she’s drawn blood.
“I can’t have children,” she blurts out. “Not in the proper way. The radiation therapy I had because of the first tumor made me infertile. I did have some eggs frozen back then, so I can have children but not in the regular way. Not that I think you and I are going to have kids, but I just thought you should know what you’re getting into.”
“Babe”—I curl my hand around her cheek—“it doesn’t matter to me. All I want is you. Anything that comes after will be a bonus. But it’s not a bonus I need.”
“You sure?” she whispers.
“I’m sure. Now, sleep.”
I’d guessed that she might be infertile, and I was telling the truth when I said it didn’t matter. Do I want kids someday? Yeah, I guess so. But I can live without having them.
I can’t live without her.
She shuts her eyes and lowers her head back down to my chest. I snuggle down in bed, putting my nose close to her hair. I breathe her scent in.
“I’m going to lose my hair. They’ll shave a section off for the surgery, and the rest will fall out with the radiation therapy.”
I figured that as well.
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“But I like my pink hair.”
“When it grows back, you can dye it pink again.”
“Hmm. I guess.”
Silence.
“Hunter…are you sure it won’t bother you if I’m bald?”
“If losing your hair means you get better and I get to have a lifetime with you, then, yeah, babe, I’m sure.”
“But I have a weird-shaped head.”
“So, I’ll buy you a head scarf.”
She laughs softly, lightly slapping me on the stomach. “Ass.”
“And you love me for it.” I chuckle.
“True.”
“Now, quit stalling, and get some sleep, Boston.”
“So bossy, Hunter.”
“You love that about me as well.”
She’s silent for a long moment. I look down and see her eyes are closed.
She looks so beautiful. She will always be beautiful to me, no matter what.
Closing my own eyes, I rest my head back into the pillow.
“Hunter?” she murmurs, her voice sounding sleepy.
“Mmhmm?”
“I love everything about you. Even your airplanes.”
A smile pushes at my lips as tears prick my eyes at the same time. “And I love everything about you, Boston.”
“If I should die and leave you
Be not like the others, quick undone
Who keep long vigils by the silent
dust and weep.
“For my sake turn to life and smile
Nerving thy heart and trembling
hand to comfort weaker souls than thee.
Complete these unfinished tasks of mine
And I perchance may therein comfort thee.”
Reverend Gray gently closes the sermon book in his hand, looking out over the church.
“Now, let us end the service with the Lord’s Prayer.” He bows his head and begins praying, “Our Father, who art in heaven…”
I stare at the coffin on its stand behind where Reverend Gray is reciting the prayer.
There’s heaviness in my heart. A sadness in my soul.
It hurts.
I let my eyes down, my head bowing, as I join in the prayer.
Then, I feel a hand curl around mine, and it soothes the sadness away.