Finding Her Family

“I didn’t know she was right there.” He’d come off as a jerk and he knew it. “But I meant what I said. I don’t want to get involved with anyone fighting cancer. You know my history.”

His mom had died from breast cancer when he was a teenager. He’d watched her fade away day after day. When Sherri had been diagnosed last year, he’d feared the same fate would befall her. Instead, she’d fought and won. He only wished his mother had won her fight, too.

Dez nodded toward the door. “Still, you should apologize to her before she leaves.”

He knew it was the right thing to do. He found Sherri and Page talking in the living room. Sherri gave him a smile before she excused herself, touching his arm as she walked past him. He came forward to face the other woman. “Page, I apologize for what I said out there.”

“Which part? Where you said you wouldn’t date me? Or when you said I was dying?”

He cocked his head to the side and studied her. She looked rail-thin, and the hollows in her cheeks were deep, like those he remembered seeing in his mom’s face. But Page’s eyes snapped with vitality and anger. She was even cute in her black T-shirt that had a lace edge along the bottom and hot pink nail polish on her toes that peeked out of her black sandals. He looked at her directly. “Both?”

She rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, Mateo.”

She turned on her heel and he followed her outside to her car. “Page, wait! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

She stared at him, and he felt as if she was trying to read him. “When you look at me, all you see is cancer. But that’s just something that I have. You don’t really see me, and I wish you would.”

She got into her car and drove off. He watched her leave and then returned to the backyard. When he took his seat, Sherri cocked an eyebrow, and he gave her a shrug. “I apologized.”

Dez took a swig from his beer bottle and pointed at him with it. “You’d be lucky to date that woman, cancer or not. I speak from experience when I say that loving a woman who has survived the worst, only makes life more precious.”

Sherri smiled and put a hand on Dez’s forearm. “It makes you appreciate what you have for as long as you can.”

Mateo sighed and put his napkin back on his lap. “I’m not interested in anyone right now. That’s the truth.”

Sherri stared at him for a minute before reaching out and grabbing his hand. “Okay. We won’t push.” A smile played around her mouth. “We’ll leave that to the aunties.”

Mateo groaned in mock horror but then returned her smile with one of his own. Truth was, Page intrigued him. And though she’d left, the memory of her lingered in his mind.

* * *

PAGE LOOKED DOWN at the speedometer and eased her foot off the accelerator. She’d been driving at forty miles an hour in a 25-mile-per-hour zone. Breathe in, breathe out, she reminded herself, trying to calm her racing heart.

Mateo’s words still echoed in her brain. He didn’t date someone who was dying. She tried to shake off the disappointment, but what he’d said still stuck. She’d always thought he was hot, after having seen him at Sherri’s party last year and then again at April’s a couple of months ago. She’d nearly swooned when he’d asked her to dance. Had reveled in the feeling of his strong arms around her, his hand at her waist. Then the song had been over and he’d moved on. But she’d dreamed of that dance ever since.

She pulled up in front of April’s house and let her car idle for a moment before shutting it off. She got out, walked up to the front door and entered without knocking. “Okay, I’m here. The party can begin.”

April glanced up from the box she’d been packing and squinted. “Have you been crying?”

“What? No. I don’t cry.” She peered at her reflection in the mirror on the wall behind her. She appeared a little sad maybe, but no tears. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Knowing your organizational skills, I left the kitchen for you.” They entered the room together and surveyed the empty boxes waiting to be filled. April sighed. “I can’t believe I’m leaving this place. I’m going to miss it.”

“You’re only moving two blocks over. It isn’t the ends of the earth.”

April had recently gotten engaged to Zach Harrison and would be marrying her fiancé in less than a month. Her friend picked up a box and took it to the nearest counter. “He wants to keep his dishes because he grew up using them. Fine, we can donate mine. But I want my coffeemaker and mug collection. Other than that, I’m not sure what else to bring with me.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to bring whatever makes me happy.” She looked around the kitchen. “But it all makes me happy.”

Page pointed at a spoon that had a slightly bent handle. “Even that old thing?”

April clutched the spoon to her chest. “I eat my morning cereal with it. It’s my favorite.” She chuckled. “Can you believe I’m getting married? Me? Last year at this time I had just finished chemo and was counting down the days to my reconstruction surgery.”

Page put her arm around April’s shoulders. “You deserve all this happiness and more.”

“I am happy with him.” Her eyes got a dreamy look, then she sighed. “Have you decided who you’re bringing to the wedding?”

Page snorted. If there was anything she hadn’t thought about it was a date for the upcoming nuptials. “What’s wrong with coming alone? Besides, as maid of honor, I’ll be too busy taking care of you to think about a date.”

“What about Mateo?” April waggled her eyebrows. “Have you thought about asking him? I’m sure he’d say yes.”

And Page was just as sure he’d refuse. He didn’t date someone dying from cancer. Okay, she had to let that go. But like it or not, the words had hit their mark. “He wouldn’t be interested.”

April crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. I saw the way the two of you were dancing at my party.”

“Just drop it, okay? Me and Mateo are never going to happen.” She opened a cupboard and started to pull out plates.

“But I thought you liked him.”

She paused from wrapping a plate in newspaper and considered her friend’s words. “I think he’s good-looking.”

“And that’s all there is? You just think he’s hot?”

Page put the wrapped plate in a box and leaned against the counter. “No. I think he’s smart. He’s a great lawyer, according to Sherri. And I like him.” She picked up another plate. “But nothing’s going to happen. He doesn’t like me.”

Maybe if she kept repeating that, she’d believe it. And give up the dream of pursuing something with Mateo. She was dying, after all.

CHAPTER TWO (#ua9e4af90-5d66-5641-a76d-f6b5304ca10b)

THERE WAS NOTHING like helping bring a baby into the world. Despite the blood and mess and chaos, no moment felt better to Page. She carefully took the newborn from Dr. Angela Achatz and carried her to the new mom, who wept as Page placed the baby on her chest. “Congratulations,” she whispered, as the mom turned her head to share the moment with her husband.

She watched as the couple had eyes only for their infant girl and each other. Page banished the bitter thought of never having that moment herself and returned to aiding the doctor with the afterbirth. Ever since she’d heard about Chad and his girlfriend expecting a baby, the elation Page usually felt at each birth had dimmed a little. She had started to feel hollow, rather than filled with the usual happiness she’d experienced before.

Dr. Achatz peered at her. “Are you okay, nurse? You look a little pale.”

Page tried to smile and nodded. “Yep. I’ll take the mother and baby to postnatal. Then I’ll check on the status of the mom’s room.”

“Tiffany can do that.” Dr. Achatz motioned to one of the other nurses, who nodded and walked over to the couple to let them know the next steps. “I was hoping you and I could have a chat.”

Page hated to hear what the OB-GYN doctor would need to talk to her about. She knew Dr. Achatz didn’t like that she’d reduced her working hours, but the chemotherapy left her tired and in a brain fog. She’d spoken to her supervisor, Joann, about her fears that her fatigue and weakness would result in her making a mistake or miss a doctor’s orders. She refused to put her patients in harm’s way when she knew the risks involved for herself. She rearranged the instruments that the doctor had used for the labor on the surgical tray.

Her stalling tactic didn’t work. Dr. Achatz crooked her finger at Page and pointed at the sinks, where she started to remove her gloves and wash her hands. “How are you really feeling, Page?”

She got really bored of hearing that same question from well-meaning friends. And was even more tired of repeating the same answer. “Better than the last few days.”

“When is your next infusion?”