came rushing back.
Of course Jeffrey had stayed while I was sick. What kind of husband leaves his wife while she is fighting cancer?
But now I was recovering.
Maybe he no longer had to pretend.
I sat on the edge of the huge bed and thought about my short hair, the scars, the loose skin, and the body I still struggled to recognize. Maybe the months of being my caregiver had destroyed whatever romantic feelings Jeffrey once had for me.
Around nine, he knocked on my door.
“Want to
