A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)(94)

“It’s going to be fine, sweets. I have a feeling right here.” She lays her hand over her heart. “You just had that ultrasound. You’re not going to suddenly develop a tumor. It’s probably a cyst or that fibrocystic stuff.”

“You’re right. I’m trying to stay positive, but it’s so hard when I carry the gene.”

Her arms hug me tight. “I know.”

“And I wish Ben were here. I need him now.”

“And that’s why he’s such a jerkface douche.”

“I know.”

“What time are they picking you up?” She’s referring to my mom and sister.

“Nine thirty.”

“Good. I’m ready for you to get this behind you.”

“Me too,” I say.

I walk into my room to finish getting ready. While I’m in there, I decide to send Ben another text, although I don’t know why.



Me: I’m getting ready to go to my appointment. Please answer me. I’m so damn scared right now. I could use your support. Please help! :/



I wait but get nothing. I guess he truly is showing his colors. I know he struggled with Drew, but I’m not asking him to go through cancer with me. All I want is a simple text of encouragement. How can he do this? Was I really that terrible to him? Am I that horrible of a person?

My whole body trembles as I dress. I tug on my jeans and even zipping them is difficult. Hooking my bra proves impossible. I fall back on my bed and force myself to take deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. After a few more, I try my bra again, and still no luck.

“Lauren, can you come in here, please?”

She comes in and sees me sitting there.

“What’s up?”

I hold up my bra in tears. “I can’t get this hooked. I’m too shaky.”

She presses her lips together and takes the bra from me. “Stand up.”

I do and slip it on so she can hook it behind me. “Thanks.”

“You bet.”

I just pull my T-shirt on when Mom and Laney pull up. I inhale and force one foot in front of the other as I make my way to the car. When we get to the doctor, they usher me straight to the ultrasound room. Since this isn’t a new experience for me I know what to expect. The gel is cold and I shiver when she starts. It’s not long before the girl is finished.

“You can get dressed and have a seat in the waiting room.”

They must have put me on the rush list because I barely put my ass in the chair when Dr. Hastings calls us to his office.

All three of us are his patients so he knows us.

“Please, sit.”

Once we’re seated, he begins. “So, Samantha, everything appears to be fine, but I stress the word appears. I’m about ninety-five percent sure it’s benign. But we won’t know without a biopsy. It looks like a cyst or a cluster of microcalcification. With that being said, we have two options, remove the lump, or do the mastectomies. You already know my opinion on this, and I believe you’ve gotten other opinions as well. I would suggest whatever you decide that we get this scheduled as soon as possible.”

I blow out a huge breath and say, “I’m going to have the surgery. The bilateral preventative mastectomies.” This is the only viable option for me and the abject fright I’ve lived with over the last couple of days has formed this decision. Though I hate it, it’s almost liberating to get it behind me.

“I think you’re wise, given the fact that you carry the gene.” Then he launches into the most detailed description of my nipples that I end up tuning him out for half of it. The medical jargon makes my head spin with the facts in trying to make a nipple decision. If I keep them, there’s still a slight risk of getting cancer.

“Laney?” I ask.

“I kept mine,” she says. “They are slightly numb but I figured I could always have them removed later, if necessary. But I have ultrasounds every six months.”

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

“Samantha, I realize this is a big step, a huge decision you’re making. But remember one thing. You’re choosing life over your breasts,” Dr. Hastings says.

“I know. I realize that now. This lump has scared me to death.”

“Let’s get you set up with your surgery and reconstruction then.” I’ve opted to have it all done at the same time.

Again, relief and worry flood me. The logical part of my brain knows this is the right thing to do, but in actuality, I’m scared shitless to go through with it. My sister senses my fear and grabs my hand. “It’s going to be all right. You’re going to be all right, Sam.” I squeeze her hand back.

We walk out and head to the surgery scheduling office with Dr. Hastings. He gives the admin all the information so she can get things started. When we leave, I have an appointment with Dr. Wilson, the plastic surgeon, on Monday and my surgery is set for a week from today.

Before we go to the car, I excuse myself to use the restroom. While there, I send Ben another text.



Me: Please call me. I have news. I’m leaving my appointment and I have surgery scheduled in one week.



Optimistically, I text him the time and place of my surgery.

On the way home, I ask my sister, “Laney, what do you like best about your new boobs?”