Page 112 of Sweeter Than Fiction
A deep voice says, “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Shit!” I cry, jumping a foot in the air. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Sorry.” Don smiles. “I just thought I’d make you something to eat. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”
“As much as I appreciate that, I think I need to get out of bed for a little while.”
“Whatever you want, beautiful.”
I take a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter as Don hands me a steaming cup of coffee. “You’re a saint,” I tell him. I take a sip and then add, “Thank you for coming over last night.”
He leans his elbows on the counter and looks into my eyes. “Well, you’re welcome. But I need you to know that when you need me, I’ll be here. I don’t care what it is. I will be here no matter what.”
“You’re too sweet,” I tell him. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Didn’t you just hear me? I’m here when you need me. Right now, you need me. There’s nowhere else I’m going to be.”
“I’ll be okay,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or anything.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. You and I are going to eat some breakfast, and then, we are going to talk about some stuff.”
Trying to lighten the mood a little, I ask, “Is it about your out-loud reading of the smutty book yesterday?”
He grins. “That…among other things.”
My stomach instantly tangles itself in a knot as I wonder how this conversation is going to go. Is he going to leave me? Is he going to be disappointed by my recent medical diagnosis?
Why did my baby maker have to revolt against me?
He sets down a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of me.
“Where did all this come from?” I ask. “I know none of this stuff was in my fridge.”
“I ran to the store.”
“How long have you been up?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. A while.”
He sits down next to me, and we both dig in. I’m not quite sure what to say or how to get this conversation off the ground, so we just eat in a comfortable silence. After a few bites, I tell him how good it is, but that’s about it.
I know the second we start talking, I’m probably going to lose any appetite that I have, so I may as well get full now. And hope that it doesn’t come back up when my stomach starts to lurch with nerves.
When we finish, I take the dishes to the sink and start washing them, but Don walks up behind me, setting his hands on my shoulders. “Leave them. We can do them in a little while.”
I turn off the water and dry my hands before following him to the bedroom. He takes a seat and says, “I thought we may as well be as comfortable as possible.”
Comfortable so you can let me down easy?
He begins with, “Tell me what happened at the doctor yesterday.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I start. “I went in because I realized my period was late, which isn’t a normal thing for me. I assumed I was pregnant, and because of my health issues, they wanted to see me to make sure everything was okay. But after tests, they discovered that all my lady problems have gotten worse.”
I pause for a moment to take a breath before continuing. “Without getting into a lot of the medical mumbo-jumbo, I can’t have kids. Even if I did manage to get pregnant, chances are, I would lose the pregnancy. I was then advised that due to the state of my lady parts, I should consider having a hysterectomy. It would help with my endometriosis.”
“So, surgery?” He asks, clearly worried.
I explain to him a little more in detail what’s going on, and he holds my hand the entire time I talk.
