Page 183 of Untying the Knot
Gratefulness passes over her eyes as I guide her out of the hotel room with our bags in hand. When we make it to the lobby, there’s a black SUV waiting for us. I hand off the bags and then help Myla into the car. Tears are streaming down her face. Once buckled up, I shoot off a text to Banner, asking him to grab Myla’s dress and my suit from the hotel room and anything I might have left behind and let him know I’ll be in Chicago for the foreseeable future.
Then I put away my phone as Myla hangs up. When she turns toward me, she falls into my arms and bawls.
I don’t ask questions.
I don’t say anything.
I just hold her and hope it’s not as serious as it sounds.
ChapterTwenty-Three
MYLA
Present day . . .
Tears clouding my eyes, I push through door 210 and find Nichole lying in bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines, her head wrapped in gauze.
Her balding head.
When I was on the phone with her, she told me that her doctor found cancer in her liver, not her breasts, but her liver. They came up with a plan of attack, and she’s been going through chemo . . . alone. She said she was doing fine up until this last round. She felt so nauseous, and so weak that she passed out in her kitchen and hit her head. She woke up to a puddle of blood and immediately called emergency services to get her.
The thought of Nichole lying unconscious on the floor makes my stomach twist in knots.
The worst part of it all, though? She has stage 4 liver cancer. These treatments are, as she called it, a last-ditch effort.
I can’t even consider what that means, not at this point.
I run up to her and quickly take her hand in mine as I lean against the bed. “Nichole,” I say through a shaky breath. “I can’t . . . I can’t believe this happened. I just saw you two weeks ago. How could this have become so grave since I last saw you?”
Her lashes flutter open, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes. The minute she sees me, they fill up with tears. “Chemo, it happens fast. I started my first treatment the week before I came to visit.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I nearly yell but hold back, knowing she doesn’t need that right now. I take in her bandage and the rest of her body. “How are you feeling?”
“Banged up. Exhausted. Not myself.” She glances around and asks, “Where’s Ryot?”
“Out in the waiting room, as he wanted to give us some privacy.” I now take a seat on her bed and very softly say, “I really wish you’d told me.”
“I know.” More tears fall from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says right before I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t make you cry, I’m just . . . fuck, Nichole, I’m trying to wrap my head around this, and none of it is making sense.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it too, and clearly not doing a good job.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I should have. But when I found out, you were just going through so much that I knew this news would tip you over the edge and force you to make a one-sided decision to leave Ryot, and I didn’t want that to happen.”
“I wouldn’t have,” I say, even though in the back of my mind, I know for certain that I would have dropped everything to be with Nichole and take care of her.
Through tears, she says, “I love you, but you and I both know that’s a lie. You would have used any excuse to leave California.”
“It doesn’t matter because I’m here now, and we’re going to get you better.” I pat her hand, my positivity feeling pitiful in my own ears.
And Nichole’s too as she looks away, unable to look me in the eyes. After a few seconds of silence, she says, “I’m sick, Myla. The prognosis isn’t looking good.”
My throat grows tight, and I try not to let that sink in.
Stage 4 liver cancer. You can imagine the type of searching I did on my phone all the way to Chicago. I did so much that my eyes turned blurry, and all I saw was that it was bad. Really bad.
