What's Left of Me

Chapter Fifteen

I wake up just before nine. My leg is tangled with Parker’s; my hand is across his stomach and my head rests on his shoulder. The covers are pushed to the floor and our naked bodies are entwined in the middle of the bed.

He doesn’t move when I shift next to him, pushing my hair out of my eyes. The wig has shifted all the way to the right side, almost falling off my head. Looking over at Parker’s still sleeping form, I sit up and readjust the wig—blowing out a long breath as I do. That could have been difficult to explain.

Sitting all the way up, I shift my legs so they’re on the edge of the bed. Just before I’m able to stand up, Parker’s arms come from behind me, holding me in place, and causing me to jump and let out a small squeal.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I laugh.

“Nowhere.”

“Good, then get back in bed with me.”

I do. I snuggle back up next to him. Twisting my hair, I put it over my shoulder so it’s out of the way.

“Aundrea. Last night …”

Last night was amazing.

Fulfilling.

Deep.

Boundless.

Honest.

My mind fleets back to last night ...

“Aundrea.”

He whispers my name between each kiss he trails down my body. I lie before him naked but for my necklace—exposed—and he tells me over and over again how he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

I don’t think about my port once. Not even when his fingers run up and down my body, or when his mouth nips and kisses every inch.

His fingers glide over my port eventually, when he tries to move my necklace out of the way, which causes me to freeze.

Looking down at me questioningly, I tell him it’s a bump from hitting the edge of a door. It’s a lame excuse, and probably not even feasible, but it’s the best I can come up with on the spot, and with a gorgeous man naked between my legs.

He doesn’t question me. Either he doesn’t care, or he’s too preoccupied with what’s happening between us to question me.

The room is pitch black, so I know he can’t see it to question further. I know the necklace helps too—making it seem less than what it really is.

“Please, Parker.” He keeps teasing me, lightly brushing my skin with his whiskers. “I want you, Parker.”

Parker slides his body back up mine. When his eyes are locked on mine, he moves inside me in one, slow, motion. I feel anxious as he spreads me apart, filling me.

“Damn, baby.”

I let my eyes roll back, feeling the tight sensations pull him deeper. Once he’s all the way in, he doesn’t move. His touch on my face makes my eyes drift open. His beautiful blue eyes are looking down into mine. My lips are slightly parted, and my breathing is shallow. With our eyes still locked, he pulls out of me, almost all the way, before he slowly moves back in. He does this a few more times until I can’t take it anymore. Letting out a small whimper of pleasure, I beg for more.

I want more.

“Shh, baby.” He lowers his lips back to mine. Our mouths work together as our bodies move as one—connected.

I try to pull him closer to me, tugging on his back, hips, neck, and hair.

Our bodies rock in slow motion. This is nothing hot and heavy like our first time.

This is passionate.

Tender.

We don’t need words. Our bodies do it for us.

It’s beautiful.

When I feel the pressure building and my muscles tightening around him, Parker begins to move faster.

“That’s it, baby.” His fast movements are never hard. He continues to thrust into me gently, but with the perfect amount of force.

When I cry out his name he captures it, muffling the sound with his lips. He finally slips his tongue into my mouth, and I meet his greedily. Not wanting it to end, I bring my hands up, wrapping them around his neck. He continues to slowly move in and out of me until he finds his own release.

We lie there panting, our bodies stuck together with our sweat.

“Parker …”

I can’t continue. I don’t know what to say that would make this moment any more special. Well, I can think of three words.

“Aundrea?” he says, breaking my thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Did you hear me?”

“No. I’m sorry, what?”

“I realized that last night we didn’t use anything.”

I think of what he means. Protection. What do I say? It’s okay; I can’t get pregnant.

“It’s okay, I have that taken care of, and I’m clean.” There. That’s not really lying. It’s honest, but vague, and I’m being very honest about the clean part. I have to have multiple STD checks with all the treatment I do.

“Well, still, I shouldn’t have been so greedy. I didn’t think you were coming last night, or I would have brought something.”

I turn into him, resting my hands on his chest so that I’m looking down at him.

“Parker. Really, it’s okay. I promise. We’re good.” I give him a quick kiss, then get up to get dressed.

He asks me to join him in the shower, and I tell him how much I want to but my parents are coming today and I need to get back. He begs me to stay, so it tears me apart to tell him no. I want to. So bad.

Parker tried to get me to take off my wig various times last night and I insisted on keeping it on. He pushed this morning, too, but I played it off.

“Do you really have to go?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” He looks as if he wants to say more, but doesn’t. “Call me later?”

“Of course.” I give him a quick kiss, then ask for him to zip my dress back up. He hasn’t bothered to get dressed yet, and my eyes can’t help but roam over his body every time I look at him.

I leave him standing naked in the hotel room with the memories of last night.

“Honey, why can’t we meet him?”

My mom has asked this question no less than fifteen times since I got out of the shower.

“Because. We’re not at the meet the parent stage.”

“What stage are you at?” my dad chimes in.

“No stage. We’re taking it slow.”

“I’d say you’re spending a lot of time together for someone who is taking it slow,” Genna chirps while flipping through her latest cookbook. I give her an evil glare before turning back to my dad.

“Dad, we’ve been hanging out.”

“A lot,” Genna interrupts.

“Will you quit it!” I throw one of her blue and gray couch pillows at her.

“Hey!” she screams, dropping her cookbook to the floor. I laugh, and soon she’s laughing too.

“Okay, you two. Calm down. Dre, why don’t you tell your dad and me about this Parker guy?”

“I already told you what there is to tell.”

“More please.”

My mom is just like my sister. Or rather, my sister is just like her. They always want the damn details of everything. I tell them how I met him at the house when he came over for dinner. Genna still doesn’t know how we really met.

“Dinner’s done!” Jason smiles, carrying in two large take out bags from the local diner down the road. Genna insisted on making a home-cooked meal, but my mom and dad love that diner, so she relented.

“Honey, what time do you need to be at the hospital tomorrow?”

“Eight.”

My dad wants to go with me. He’s only gone to a handful of my treatments in the last four years. The treatments were always during the week when he had to work, so my mom would take me during the day and he would stay up with me, all night if necessary.

“Mind if Mom and I go with you?”

“Of course not.”

I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, which I think is why he never says much about my cancer. He doesn’t normally like to talk about it or discuss it in detail besides the important facts. Shortly after I was diagnosed, I told him I wasn’t scared and that he didn’t need to be either. He didn’t need to tell me that he was. I could see it in his eyes. Genna would tell me how he would drink coffee after coffee during any of my scans or surgeries just so he had something to do.

I would sit on the deck with him late at night, looking at the stars, holding his hand, and comforting him, telling him it was okay. That I was okay, and he didn’t need to worry.

When my cancer came back the second time, his attitude amplified. He became quiet at the mention of anything related to my treatments. I knew he cared, but he didn’t say much. He just listened.

Just before I came to Rochester, I sat outside with him, listening to the sound of the crickets and junebugs flying around. We talked about our family vacations and our home away from home, St. Thomas, in the Virgin Islands. “I’m not scared of death, Dad,” I told him. “I’m scared of not living. I don’t want to die with any regrets that I didn’t get to do the things in life that I’ve always wanted.” He listened when I told him everything I wanted to do and would do when I beat cancer. I’d travel the world, go on a safari, ride The Wild Thing at Valley Fair, go white water rafting, solve a Rubik’s Cube, and maybe float around in the Dead Sea.

That was the first night I saw my dad cry.

Veronica, the older nurse who set me up for my first two treatments, doesn’t work Mondays, so the young nurse that drew my blood last Wednesday is my nurse for the morning. I learn her name is Britney. She always speaks in a soft, soothing voice to the others. It’s sweet, and she’s nice, but it’s annoying. We’re not dead yet, so don’t talk to us like we’re about to be.

“Okay, hon. Counts are really good. I’m going to hook you up now. This should take about four hours. When the machine shuts off it’ll beep once followed by three short beeps. Let me know if you need anything by pressing the call button.”

“Thanks,” I say at the same time as my mom.

Genna went to volunteer at the local library. She hasn’t volunteered since I’ve been home, so I told her to get in some Genna time now that our parents are here.

Once I’m hooked up, my mom tells me about how she’s keeping up with her multiple jobs, as well as the small town gossip: who is sleeping with whom, local burglaries, and who wore what to church. I swear, she must spend every free minute at the hair salon because the things she learns about people’s personal lives are astonishing.

I laugh at the comments and eye rolls my dad gives as he listens to her stories. I decide to change the subject. “Dad, how’s work going for you?”

“Same shit, different day.” He wishes he could retire, or quit. I think he’d be happier working at a hardware store instead of the factory where he has spent the last twenty-five years. It pays well, but it’s stressful.

“How many more days?”

“Thirty-five hundred,” he laughs, shrugging.

It’s good spending time with my parents, even if it’s like this. We catch up, reminisce, and even make plans for me to come home and visit.

When the beeps begin, Britney comes over and turns the machine off. Taking the plastic catheter out of my vein from my port, she tapes a gauze bandage on me for the ride home.