Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 60

The Walt Is Agonizing-2

At some point-minutes or hours later, genuinely couldn’t tell-the burning transformed into nausea so much that I couldn’t think past it.

They gave me a basin but there was nothing in my stomach to bring up, just bile and stomach acid that burned my throat on the way out as I coughed forcing it out, as I held on tight to the basin, trying to get my bearing.

“Almost done,” Frank said, and I wanted to tell him that “almost” was a meaningless word when you were in this much misery. Almost could be thirty seconds or thirty minutes and both felt too long to me.

“Think about something good,” one of the nurses suggested, trying to help as I glanced at her.

“Think about a happy memory, something that makes you feel safe,”

I tried. I reached for memories of my family, of this morning’s goodbyes, of Rachel and Molly in the garden before everything went wrong.

But what came instead were older memories, memories that I thought I had buried underground lock and key when I left chicago.

Nick as a baby, so tiny in my arms after weeks in the NICU. His first smile. The first time he’d reached for me, the first time he’d said “Mama,” the thousands of small moments that had defined early motherhood before everything got complicated.

Nick at two, running to me when he’d fallen and scraped his knee, absolutely certain that I could fix anything.

Nick at three, insisting on helping me cook even though he mostly just made more mess. Nick at four, telling me unprompted that I was the best mommy in the whole world.

Before Catherine, Before Logan’s betrayal, Before Nick had learned to resent me for keeping him safe.

Those memories hurt worse than the treatment, but I held onto them anyway because they were real and they were mine and no one could take them from me.

“Okay,” Frank said finally, and his voice had that particular quality that meant we’d reached an endpoint. “The infusion is complete. You did it, Sedona. First dose is done.”

I’d survived it. I breathed heavily as I felt the pain reducing, getting smaller and smaller as I began to feel relied.

That was the only coherent thought I could manage. I’d survived it, which meant I could survive the next dose, and the next, until we reached the other side of this and found out whether I’d be one of the twenty, percent that would manage to beat this cancer or if I would die before I got to the other end.

“Your family is in the waiting area,” Frank continued. “They’ve been there the entire time. I’m going to let them know you came through the treatment, but you need to rest now and you can’t have visitors for now. The next twenty-four hours are critical-we’ll be monitoring you constantly for any adverse reactions.”

“Can I… see them?” I managed, my voice hoarse from being sick.

The Wait is Agonizing-2

Tomorrow. Once we’re sure you’re stable. Tonight you need to sleep and let your body process what we’ve just put into it.

He was right, I knew he was right. But the thought of spending the night alone in this sterile room, hooked up to machines, left alone to my thoughts….

“Cameron can stay,” Frank said, apparently reading my expression as he conceded.

“Not in the room with you, that is not possible but he can stay in the observation area right outside. He can see you through the window, and if you need anything, he’ll be right there.”

It wasn’t the same as having him beside me, but it was better than being completely alone.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

They settled me into a different bed-still in the treatment room but this bed was rearranged in a way that I could see the window that looked into the observation room.

Cameron appeared there within minutes, his face drawn but determined, his eyes seeking mine immediately as I felt a little bit of the fear fade away.

He pressed his hand against the glass, and I lifted mine to match it from my side. The barrier between us was frustrating but also comforting in an odd way, it showed that I wasn’t alone, no matter what.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify