Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 144696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 723(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 482(@300wpm)
He paled further, though I wouldn’t have thought it possible. When he spoke, he was wounded. “Sophie... I’m in a real crisis here.”
“I know you are.” I tried to sound sympathetic and firm at the same time. “That’s why I want you to get help.”
He broke down then. I was getting strangely used to his tears. But there was a divide between us that seemed to grow wider with every passing day. So, when I held onto him, I wasn’t just comforting him. I was trying to keep him with me, against the internal tide that would inevitably pull him away.
It only took one threat, and Neil called his therapist.
“You have a therapist?” I asked him, surprised. Neil always seemed so pulled together, I couldn’t imagine him needing therapy.
Scratch that: I couldn’t imagine him thinking he needed therapy.
“You go through a divorce and see if you don’t need someone to keep you sane,” he cracked mildly. We were in the kitchen, making protein shakes while prep went on in anticipation of dinner. We’d found that giving Neil protein a couple hours before a meal kept him from getting queasy at dinner time, and he could hold down more food.
“I would really rather not,” I replied, smiling sweetly at him over the top of the blender. I had to raise my voice to be heard, so I waited until the blades stop to say, “I like you too much to kick you to the curb.”
“Even when I’m being a self-pitying jackass?” He was embarrassed about his meltdown the night before.
I wanted to reassure him and tell him that it was nothing to be ashamed of, but I wasn’t going to do that until he actually saw his shrink. I didn’t want to give him an excuse not to go. “Not even then.”
“It might help for you to see someone,” he suggested. “You’ve been horribly isolated here, away from your friends and... because of me.”
“I don’t mind.” I didn’t mind not thinking about it, either. Because that was way more comfortable than confronting it head on.
So, maybe I did need to see someone.
I sighed. “You’re probably right. I hate to ask you for anything right now, but I have no idea how to find someone like that. It was a big enough hassle looking for a gynecologist.”
“I can ask Terry if he can recommend someone. We should keep couples’ counseling in mind, as well.”
“Ah, togetherness,” I said with a dreamy sigh, and at least that got a laugh out of Neil.
He looked over his shoulder at the kitchen prep going on around us, and lowered his voice. Although, to be perfectly frank, I don’t think anyone who worked in his house really cared what we did, so long as they got paid and we left them alone to do their jobs. “I wanted to apologize for what happened last night. My denial of my condition put you in an uncomfortable position. I shouldn’t have behaved as though I resented you, or you were at fault.”
“I didn’t perceive it that way at all,” I said, hitting the pulse button on the blender a few times around my words. “I know you imagine yourself as this cool, composed guy no one can figure out, but for an enigma, you can be super obvious some times.”
“Let that wait a moment,” he said, taking me by the hand and pulling me toward the kitchen door with another glance at the staff around us.
When we stepped into the hallway, he said, low so he wouldn’t be overheard, “I’m not just sorry about the way I behaved. I’m also...” He sighed in annoyance.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, and I reached up to touch his face, because he looked so frustrated and lost.
“I’m upset because I’m not able to meet your needs, sexually. I was fully prepared for the fact that my sex drive would be affected by chemotherapy, but I hadn’t thought as much about how this must affect you.” His brow furrowed. “How long has it been since you’ve even masturbated?”
“I’ve masturbated!” I hissed in outrage. I was embarrassed by the question, but not because I was ashamed to admit these things to Neil. I just didn’t want to have to own up to the fact that my solo sex life hadn’t exactly been wild lately. I didn’t want him to feel guilty over that, too. But while he was sick, I didn’t feel all that sexy.
“Really? When have you had the time in the past month? You worry over me like a mother bird in her nest.” He wasn’t scolding, just concerned.
“Maybe I’m not in the mood.” I shrugged. “It’s this whole thing where my boyfriend has cancer.”
“I’m aware that you’re under an enormous amount of stress due to my condition. But you can’t spend so much time fretting over me that you don’t take care of yourself.