Claim 3: Volume Three Page 6

  The ride to the hospital was somber to say the least. Preparing to lose someone who had made such a huge impact in my life, a woman who helped mold me into the man I became, was terrible and unimaginable. If you’ve never experienced that kind of preparation, it’s not something I’d recommend. But we did it. All of us—Wendy, her mother and father, and me.

  The doctor said we could all go into her room, once they had stabilized her. He didn’t verbalize it, but I knew it was so we could say our goodbyes. We all figured we’d have only minutes, so we gathered around her bedside, each of us taking turns whispering our goodbyes into her ear. Her mother sat in the chair across the room, clutching a rosary in her hands, her fingers nimbly moving over the beads one by one, praying for Wendy to regain consciousness before she passed. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it probably wouldn’t happen. I knelt beside her and followed along with her prayer.

  Wendy’s private nurse, still vigilant at her side, never moved once, not even to use the bathroom. The woman was an angel, I’m sure of it.

  We hadn’t been in there long before the doctor came in the room, his face void of any emotions. He rechecked all her vitals, looked over her chart at the already taken notes and pondered for a few moments. What he said next was something we never expected.

  “She’ll pull through just fine.”

  How could he have known? He’d examined her for all of five minutes, known who she was for maybe twenty at most. He had to have seen in her chart where it listed her as a terminal cancer patient. He had to have seen the lack of hair on her head and the frailness of her body. Surely, he couldn’t have missed the many marks on her arms and the port in her chest. Wendy was dying and receiving hospice care. There had to be some sort of mistake.

  “Are you sure?” her mother sobbed, just as confused as the rest of us, but she had hope in her eyes. I’d rip this doctor’s heart out of his chest for giving her mother just a glimmer that her daughter was going to be fine.

  I remember being so angry that day, in that very moment. Hope is a wonderful thing to have—something to hang on to. After all, isn’t that what religion really is? Hope? But false hope. That’s the worst thing you can do to a person.

  “When her nurse gave us a list of the meds Wendy had been taking, there was one that was administered for the first time today. Wendy’s having an allergic reaction, a very bad one. Accompanied by that and her weakened immune system, it’s hitting her harder than it would an able bodied person. She should wake in a few hours after the drugs make their way out of her system. We’ve set up an IV to aide in the process.”

  She was still going to die, just not today. That actually made me feel better, in an awkward way. I’d prepared myself for her to go, said my goodbyes and accepted my fate without her. It was difficult, but I survived, and I would again when the time came. Over the last weeks, Wendy and I had grown closer than when we were married. We’d lost so much time, I wasn’t ready to let go just yet. I need more with her. There were still memories we could make, something for me to hold on to when she would eventually pass.

  God answered our prayers when I asked for just one more day. He’d been listening to her mother and me. I vowed to stop taking every second we still had together for granted. I promised to be the man I said I would be the day I put a ring on her finger in front of our family. I’d never stopped caring about Wendy, and all of this—every bump in the road and knowing I would eventually lose her forever—it was all worth it. I’d get to right a wrong.

  The doctor ordered another scan while we were at the hospital since Wendy didn’t get out much. We agreed on Wendy’s behalf, since she didn’t even wake up until they were about to wheel her bed out of the room. Luckily for me, her parents allowed me to help in the decision making. They didn’t have to; Wendy and I had been divorced for quite a while. I didn’t have a say in anything that happened with her medically, but they already knew. They saw what their daughter meant to me. What I meant to Wendy.

  As soon as her eyes opened, the lazy blue irises stared back at me, expressing so much. I knew I’d been blessed to see them one more time. For a few beats, I committed every detail of those eyes to memory—the way her pupils would dilate, the rim around the lightest blue fading to a darker shade, almost navy. I’d never forget one detail about Wendy.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” I whispered as I kissed her forehead.

  “I missed you,” she declared, my heart knowing she meant for the time we had lost when we divorced, not the few hours she was sleeping.

  *****

  After she returned from the scan, we waited for the oncologist. Wendy told me all the plans she had for the future. All the things she’d miss out on. I carefully wrote them down in the order she listed them, promising line by line I’d find a way to make them happen. There was no way I’d let her die and not get to experience the things she dreamed of. After all, it was my job to keep her happy … as happy as I could, anyway.

  And then the most insane thing happened. The oncologist walked in and said the latest round of chemo worked. The cancer cells were shrinking. Some were even gone all together. Wendy and I stared at the doctor for what seemed like hours, waiting for him to tell us he’d gotten the wrong room and apologize for breaking our hearts.

  But he didn’t.

  Over the next few weeks, I took Wendy back to the doctors, each and every time the news got better and better. Her cancer was gone. I was going to get as much time with Wendy as I wanted.

  And I wanted it all. Every second of it.

  It’s been two years since the day Wendy officially went into remission. Two long years of living each and every day to the fullest—loving each other like it was our last day.

  “I want ice cream,” Wendy says, squeezing my hand.

  “I’ll buy you some if you give me a kiss.” I turn my head toward hers and she’s already there, waiting with puckered lips.

  I waste no time pulling Wendy in my arms and kissing her like it’s the last time I’ll ever kiss her again. Just like I have for the last two years. You never know when the next time will be the last, and if I something were to happen to me, I want the last one to be the best one.

  Breaking from our very public private moment, I thread my fingers through hers and guide her to the ice cream shop at the corner. If anything, I’m a man of my word.

  Just as we’re walking in, a familiar face is walking out. I hold the door for her to pass and when she looks up to thank me, recognition hits.

  “Nolan? Is that you?” Loren asks.

  “In the flesh,” I respond. She arches her feet so only her toes touch the ground and wraps her arms around my neck, her protruding belly squishing against me.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s been so long. How are you?” Loren pulls back and adjusts her top.

  “Pretty amazing. This is my wife, Wendy. Wendy, this is an old friend, Loren Tena.” Loren glances to Wendy and almost appears confused for a moment, then she smiles sweetly.

  “It’s so wonderful to meet you,” Loren takes Wendy in a hug as well, pressing her giant stomach into Wendy.

  “This is my husband, Jordan.” I shake his hand firmly, silently telling him if he hurts Loren again like he did before he’d pay for it. He returns the shake and I get the impression he knows exactly who I am.

  “When are you due?” Wendy asks, sadness behind her question, no doubt because we’ll never be able to have our own children—the one thing I can’t give her because of what the cancer did to her body.

  “Six more weeks,” Loren sighs, rubbing her stomach, Jordan’s hand resting over hers possessively.

  “Congratulations,” Wendy and I say in unison. “Jinx!” we scream at the same time, laughing.

  “You two are perfect together. I’m glad everything worked out.” Loren bumps her hip to mine and I wink at her.

  “Yeah. We are and so am I.”

  Loren and Jordan excuse themselves in order to get to a doctor’s appointment. We promise to keep in touc
h, but I know we won’t. Live is perfect just the way it is.

  I don’t know why Loren came into my life, but in a weird way, it brought me back to Wendy. I could have been happy with Loren by my side, but I would have missed out on so much. When I was just a teenager, I knew Wendy was the woman I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. We grew apart for a little while, but that’s to be expected. Both of us needed a chance to see who we were without one another, and lucky for us, we decided that being apart made no sense. We were truly made for one another.

  Taking our cones to the bench out front, we sit and eat our ice cream, watching the world move around us. Between licks, Wendy turns toward me, a serious look on her face.

  “Was that her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s beautiful. You could have done worse.”

  “But I did so much better.”

  The End

  About the Author

  Ashley Suzanne has been writing as long as she can remember. As a youngster, she was always creating stories and talking to her imaginary friends. Thankfully, her parents also carried this love of fiction, and helped her grow into the writer she is today.

  Ashley is a bestselling author and spends equal amounts of time writing and reading. Being the true book whore she is, Ashley would rather dive into a good book before going out of her house. Giving up her career in Real Estate, Ashley has officially moved to hermit status.

  When Ashley isn't coming up with her next story, you'll most likely find her on the couch with a kindle in her hand (probably watching some crappy reality show while annoying her husband by telling him all about her new book boyfriend or spending quality time with her two gremlins ... Sorry, I mean adorable children.)

  OTHER WORKS BY ASHLEY SUZANNE

  THE DESTINED SERIES

  Mirage (book 1)

  Inception (book 1.5)

  Awakening (book 2)

  Façade (book 3)

  Epiphany (book 4)

  Inescapable (book 5) – COMING SOON

  RAVEN (stand alone)

  CALLING CARD (stand alone)

  RESTRICTED Part 1 (a 3 part serial co-authored with Pamela Ann)

  CLAIM Volume 1

  CLAIM Volume 2

  BREAKING NOAH (Coming 5/26/15 with Random House Publishing)

  MOMENTS IN TIME – A short story charity anthology featuring Sapphire by Ashley Suzanne

  Ashley’s Facebook

  Ashley’s Website

  Sign up for Ashley’s Mailing List

  Ashley Suzanne is represented by Marisa Corvisiero with Corvisiero Literary Agency.

  Acknowledgements

  Well, Claim was a lot of fun to write. I honestly have no idea where the idea came from, but am I ever glad it happened. I really hope you had a good time reading about Nolan, Loren, Jordan and Wendy. I had a friend who passed away in 2012 from cancer, my best friend, and I guess this is me giving her the happily ever after she deserved. I’m so sorry if you were team Nolan and Loren, but Wendy cried out to me the second she entered my head. She deserved her man.

  So, now to the goods. I’d like to sincerely thank the people who mean the most to me, my husband and children. Without their constant support and love, none of this would be possible. There would be no dream to live because without them, my dreams wouldn’t exist. Thank you, boys, for making me the woman I am today and loving me despite my flaws.

  Ray and my boys … my family … you’re the reason for everything. There will never be enough words to tell you how much I love and appreciate you.

  Maddy Sassy Pants - My “left lobe” … you’re the greatest friend a girl could have. Thick and thin, you’re there for me when others would have turned their backs. For that, I’ll always be grateful. Your friendship, advice and support mean so much to me. I’m waiting to wake up and realize you were only a figment of my imagination. Having you in my corner, in my career and personal life, is probably the single most wonderful things that’s happened since I entered this community. Toxic raisins, Rosicrucian, Mexican strip clubs, Prison Sisters, Louie Bitches For Life, islands, injas, and skirts. Love Always, Ashford Littleman, II

  Lacy, my amazing assistant. For so many reasons I love you, but the biggest reason is because you love me. You’re such a wonderful person; I’d truly be lost without you. No, really, I’d be fucking lost somewhere.

  My fantastic agent, Marisa, who never turns my ideas away, unless they suck. Thank you for never sugar coating my work, giving it to me straight, making sure I always get a fair shake and allowing me to be your trouble maker. Now, let’s make some magic.

  Nicky – because Hozier is amazing and without you, I’d have no idea who that man is. I love you. That’s all. I just love you. And you stay up late with me.

  My street team for pushing my books down your throat. I swear, I don’t even ask them to do that. They have minds of their own, and each time they tell me how much they loved one of my books, I get butterflies in my stomach. These girls are my rocks—my aces. I love you all.

  My editors, Tiffany Tillman (Claim 1 and 3) and Ellie from Love N Books (Claim 2) … do I even need to say it?!? Without you guys, my books would be rubbish. Comma riddled, misspelled words and sentences that don’t make sense to anyone but me. Thank you for making what I do look pretty.

  The bloggers, readers, fangirls, and everyone in between. I really hope this never gets old. There would be no way for me to do what I love without you. Even if we’ve never spoken, your support drives me to keep pushing forward, even when I think nobody is going to read a book, you guys swoop in and remind me of one very important thing. It’s for me that I write and for you that I publish. Thank you for allowing me to live my dream each and every day.