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Oh, yes.
She moved with him, breathing his name, kissing him, touching him, surrounding him.
Time stood still and there was only Maggie, only these incredible sensations she was making him feel. His desire for her blazed through him, his heart pumping fire through his veins. His need consumed him and he heard himself call out her name as she exploded around him, as the rush of his own release nearly stopped his heart.
She kissed him, so sweetly, so completely, and he knew without a doubt that he would love her until the day that he died.
Please God, don’t let it be too soon.
Matt rolled over, pulling her with him so that her head rested on his shoulder. He kissed her again and again, kisses for the sake of kissing, delighting in the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth.
Her eyes were so filled with love, he nearly wept.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She smiled. “I believe you. You’re a good actor, but you’re not that good.”
Matt laughed, but it faded away as he realized what he had to do now. There was no putting it off any longer. “We have to talk.”
Maggie sighed, running her fingers across his chest and arms, already starting to make him crazy again.
He couldn’t do this here. Not like this. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen?” he suggested. “Make a cup of tea?”
Something in his voice must’ve telegraphed his anxiety, because she sat up. “I’m listening,” she said. “Really.”
“Can we go downstairs?” he asked.
She nodded and reached for her nightgown.
Twelve
After putting the kettle on the stove, Matt pushed the kitchen windows closed. The night air had gone from cool to cold, with the wind blowing off the sound. Maggie had a sweatshirt on over her nightgown, but she still shivered slightly.
He sat down at the table, across from her, fiddling with the napkin holder as he tried to figure out how to start.
“Now that we’re down here,” he said with a laugh, “I’m not sure how to say this.”
She reached across the table, putting her hands on his. “Whatever you have to say, it can’t be that terrible, can it?”
He met her eyes. “Mags, it’s about when I went into the hospital. And yes, it’s terrible.”
She looked down at their hands for a moment, and when she looked back up, into his eyes again, there was so much love on her face, it nearly took his breath away. “You know there’s nothing you can say that will make me stop loving you. Nothing.”
“I had cancer,” he told her. There. He said it.
Maggie couldn’t breathe. She stared across the table at him, waiting, hoping, praying for it to be a joke. Any minute now he’d tell her the punchline.
“I was diagnosed,” Matt said softly, “with Hodgkin’s disease.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered. It was indeed a joke, a cruel, horrible joke of fate. “Was? Past tense?”
“Well, yeah,” he said. Then he shook his head. “No, I don’t want to lie to you.” He looked up at her, his face apologetic, his eyes dark with unhappiness. “The truth is, I hope it’s gone, but I don’t know for sure. It’s been almost a year since I had my last treatment of chemo. The odds of a recurrence are pretty high for the first year—”
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