Now she’s free. She’s without pain, without heartache, and without the worries she had to deal with for so many of her limited days on this Earth.
Once I’d wrung myself dry and blubbered all over myhusband’sbroad chest, I went back inside that horrible hospital and began my newest battle.
They took my breast and tested my lymph nodes. They offered reconstructive surgery to give me a whole new look; I’ll take them up on that at some point. But not yet. Not for a while. I’m tired of needles, I’m tired of pain. My chest still bears the newest scar from my port-a-cath, so until I can bear the thought of more surgery, I’m not voluntarily signing myself up.
My chemotherapy was accelerated, which meant hair loss –again– and mouth ulcers –again. It meant lost weight, and days upon days of exhaustion, when I could do nothing more than sleep and let Spencer hold me.
He was my rock, my guide. He was my strength, and though I know it hurt him to see me in pain, though Iknowhe went to the hospital church more often than he’ll ever admit, and allowed himself a minute of reprieve, he never once faltered in front of my eyes.
He held me up through every day of my treatment, and for the minutes he needed to take a breather, he sent my brothers in and they held me up.
He’s my angel. He was sent to me in the time the universe knew I needed him.
Could I have gone through treatment a second time, if not to live for him?
I’m not sure, but I’m glad I’ll never have to know.
My hair is growing back, and my mouth no longer hurts. Sophia has taken control of my diet, so I’m gaining weight too. With that, and Spencer’s help with a workout routine, my butt is sitting in a way it never has before in my life.
He lifts weights with me most days, though his are much,muchbigger than mine. He continues to work on his heavy lifting, while I work on tiny weights and lean muscle gains. I feel stronger each day. I’m still tired, and my chest still hurts a little. My skin is more sensitive after radiotherapy, and I’ve yet to have my period since this all began.
I’m not sure if it’ll ever return, but I’ve already made peace with my inability to carry children.
All in all, I feel strong. And better yet, confident.
When Spencer looks at me the way all of those other husbands I remember swooning for look at their wives, there’s no way I couldn’t be confident. There’s no way I can doubt myself when he reminds me a hundred times a day why he loves me.
I got my prince. And maybe he looks like a criminal, maybe his tattoos cost more than most homes, and maybe he cusses a lot. But he’s a prince, that’s for certain. He’s exactly who I was put on this planet for, and he was placed here for me.
“Alright, Soph.” Jess claps her hands to get the bride’s attention. “It’s time to get this show on the road. You’re gonna be my sister in an hour. You ready?”
Her nod says yes, but her terrified eyes say no.
“I just… I’m having a moment.”
Laughing, Jess leans forward and hugs her future sister-in-law. “Have your moment. It’s time for us to head in now anyway.”
We take turns hugging her. Jess fixes her veil, and Andi fixes the bust so her boobs sit like a shelf. Laine gives the bride a gentle hug and slides her thumb under Soph’s bottom lip to make sure the bright red lipstick is perfect, and I bring her hands up to show off the bouquet.
“Hold them here. This is your show, have fun.”
“I love you guys.” Soph’s eyes skitter around to each of ours. “I rarely say that to anyone. But I love you guys.”
“We love you too.” I give her one last hug, then I snatch up my smaller bouquet and rush to the door. I’ll be walking first, then Andi. Laine next, and Jess just before the bride. “See you soon. Don’t run away.”
“No promises.” Soph gives a nervous chuckle. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Okay.”
The music changes and lets me know it’s time to walk, so I exit the room at the side of the church and step to the back of the crowd. Everyone stands, their eyes adoring, their smiles genuine. My brothers hang out on the groom’s side; six months of forced friendship changes things. And Jay’s closest and dearest stand beside him at the top of the aisle. Jay, Kane, Eric, Spencer, Riley.
Even Angelo has been invited into the bridal party. Surprising, since I’ve been witness to heated arguments and cheap potshots during many card nights over the last couple months. There seems to be bad blood flowing between them as potently as there is between Spencer and Mitchell. But both feuds have been put to rest for today at least, because Angelo smiles and waits for his girlfriend to enter.
I save Spencer for last. I study everyone else’s suits, their shoes, their shiny belts and shaking hands. I study their smiling faces and adoring eyes. But I save Spencer for last, because I know once I get to him, I won’t want to look away.
I don’t look the same as I did when I was a teenager. And I don’t look the same as I did when he and I met.
I look like a new version of me, quiet but confident, thin but not as frail, a stickler for language, but not as precious about it.