3 BOOK BUNDLE "Her Last Love Affair", "Her Last Love Affair: Breathing Without You" AND "Her Last Love Affair: The Final Journey" (11 page)

“It was just meant to be sex,” she sniffed, lifting her face
to his.

Realizing that he probably no longer needed clarification,
Reece suddenly felt very uncomfortable with where her confession was heading.

“I didn’t…I didn’t bargain on the way I feel about you,” she
explained. “I want you, Reece,” she said, wiping tears from her cheeks, which
were just as quickly replaced with fresh ones. “But I know we can’t be
together.” The world began to spin again and Allie was forced to close her
eyes. “I can’t do that to you,” she murmured. “I can’t hurt you.”

“Allie,” Reece soothed, one palm slowly circling her back,
while the fingers of his other head massaged her slender thigh. “I’m not sure I
understand.”

Opening her eyes, Allie tried to focus on him. “I’m sick,
Reece,” she repeated. “I’ve got leukemia,” she added. “I’m dying.”

Reece’s mouth fell open, as he felt Allie’s head flop back
onto his shoulder. “I don’t…” he whispered. “You can’t…” he fumbled. “Allie.”
He spoke her name reverently, as he pulled her tightly against his chest. It
was only then that he wondered why she’d gone suddenly quiet. The tears had
stopped. “Allie,” he nudged, lifting her face to him and finding her head much
heavier than it should be. “Allie,” he repeated, panicked by her closed eyes
and listless form. “Allie,” he tried more urgently, as he scooped her off his
lap and laid her out on the bed.

Quickly, Reece placed his ear next to her mouth and was glad
to feel soft, shallow breaths. His eyes landing on the jeans he’d abandoned by
the edge of the bed, he leapt for them and started to turn each pocket inside
out. Eventually, he grasped his cell phone and punched three hurried numbers.
“Come on, come on,” he quietly muttered. “Yes,” he sighed with relief when the
call was answered. “I need an ambulance.”

by

Clara James

Copyright © 2013 by Clara James

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Her Last Love Affair II: Breathing
Without You

All rights reserved.

This book is protected under the
copyright laws of the United States of America.
No part
of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording and faxing,
or by any information storage and retrieval system by anyone but the purchaser
for their own personal use.

This Book may not be reproduced in
any form without the express written permission of Clara James, except in the
case of a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages for the sake of a review
written for inclusions in a magazine, newspaper, or journal—and these cases
require written approval from Clara James prior to publication. Any
reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is
prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

A
llie McLaren has spent her entire life striving
for one goal: to be the best in her chosen profession. It drove her to work
much harder than any of her classmates at school, it caused her to devote hours
of free time to her internship, it prompted her to lose any semblance of a
social life she might have had. But she succeeded. By the age of thirty one,
she had become a highly respected investigative journalist; considered
unorthodox and ‘difficult’ by some, but regarded as one of the very best by
almost all.

Life seemed to be working out just as she had planned, until
the day she discovered she’s suffering from leukemia. Suddenly, she began
questioning the path she’d taken, the choices she’d made and the opportunities
she’d missed. Determined to make up for the fact she’d spent her early
adulthood avoiding the fun her peers had enjoyed, she decided to live the rest
of her life very differently.

Allie wants to experience sex with no strings – something
she could never do before, but something made instantly easier by the death
sentence hanging over her. She set about reconnected with old flames; guys who
had been interested in her, but she’d never had time for and even a few she did
have brief relationships with. She enjoyed the freedom of sexual expression
with no guilt, no shame and no sense that she was damaging her future. But then
she made the mistake of agreeing to meet up with Reece, her first boyfriend and
the man who had taken her virginity.

Despite her personal rule to only see each man once, she
couldn’t stop thinking about Reece and slept with him several times – swearing
silently, every night, that it would be the last. Eventually, tired of lying to
him about the bruises he’d noticed and the weight that had been dropping off
her; she broke down and told him that she’s ill. After the emotional
confession, she lost consciousness.

Stubborn

H
er mouth felt very dry, as though it were stuffed
full of cotton wool. Unconsciously, her parched tongue darted over even drier
lips and she muttered groggily. Her eyelids felt incredibly heavy as she
attempted to prize them open.

“Allie,” a gentle, deep voice mumbled. To her, the sound of
her name seemed thousands of miles away.  But it was also familiar, she was
sure she’d heard it spoken that way before.  Unsure why, she found herself
comforted by it. “Allie,” the voice repeated, this time she detected a
desperation in it.

Struggling, she wrenched her eyes open and was instantly
blinded by a bright light, which was reflected off plain, clinically white
walls. Blinking back the spots that danced on her over her vision, she moaned
in protest at the sensory assault. “Wh-” she grumbled, the instinct to close
her eyes waging war with the one that demanded she find out what was going on.
Then the world began to slip sluggishly into focus. She found herself peering down
at her own arm; at least it looked like her arm. There was a small, white
plastic tube attached to the inside of her elbow and two lines running from it.
Her gaze followed those lines, down a stretch of blue bedspread and then up an
aluminum IV pole. Finally, her eyes found the clear plastic bags where the
trail from her arm stopped.

“Allie,” the voice nudged again, while warm fingers grasped
her wrist. “Can you hear me?”

Confusion was evident on her features as she turned towards
the sound. When she managed to lift her focus to Reece’s face, realization
dawned. She remembered the heavy blackness that descended on her, but she also
remembered exactly what had happened before that. “Hi,” she tried to mutter,
her mouth uncooperative and her throat coarse.

“You need a drink?” he asked, already pushing himself to his
feet and reaching for a jug that stood on a bedside table.

Allie couldn’t tell how long she’d been in the hospital bed,
but she recognized Reece’s clothes as the ones he’d worn when he came to her
apartment; the ones that were stripped off just before they’d made love. And
clearly they had been tossed back on in a hurry, because his shirt was inside
out. She watched his hand tremble slightly, as he poured some water into a
paper cup and then brought it to her lips. Gratefully, she parted them and
allowed him to pour the liquid into her mouth. It was a little warm, but it was
the best water she’d ever tasted. “Ahh,” she sighed, leaning back on the large
pillow behind her head. “Thanks,” she managed to sleepily mumble.

“I’m so sorry, Allie,” he softly muttered, his face dipped
toward the bed. He slowly sat down, running a hand through his light brown
hair, which was sticking up awkwardly at the back. “I...I...” he stuttered,
obviously wanting to say something, but seemingly unable to find the words.

“It’s not your fault,” she replied, shaking her head as best
she could with a limited reserve of energy. “I should never have started seeing
you again.”

“No,” he instantly responded, the word blurting from his
lips more forcefully than he’d intended. “No,” he repeated in a softer tone.
“I’m not sorry about that, and you shouldn’t be either.”

“Then what are you sorry about?” she asked.

Reece’s stubble covered jaw fell slack and he silently shook
his head. Again, his eyes snapped to the bedding, while he clutched the paper
cup tightly between his thighs. “I lied to the doctors,” he said slowly. “They
wouldn’t let me stay with you, so I told them I was your fiancé.”

Unbidden, a small smile quirked at Allie’s lips. “That’s
okay,” she drowsily assured him. “When can I get out of here?” she added, the
question belied by the fact that she was nestling against the pillows cozily.

“They...umm,” Reece continued, ignoring her query in favor
of explaining his apology. “Because I said what I said, they told me how you’re
doing,” he stated rapidly, as though he were taking the band aid approach;
ripping it off as quickly as possible.

“And how am I doing?” Allie asked calmly, as if the reply
was actually inconsequential to her.

“Umm,” Reece hesitated, a desire to be honest with her
warring with his drive to protect her. “Not so good,” he admitted weakly. He
twisted sharply as the door swung open. Breathing a sigh that he hoped didn’t
sound too much like relief, Reece nodded amiably at a man in a dress shirt and
white lab coat.

Allie’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the door and she
peered warily at the man at the foot of the bed.

“Ms. McLaren,” the doctor greeted her with a smile. “I’m Dr.
Luitger.”

Allie guessed the man to be in his late forties, he was
starting to gray around the temples, but had a deceptively babyish face. He
stood at around six feet and wore blue jeans beneath his lab coat, something
she would have liked in a doctor; but at that moment she couldn’t stand doctors
of any description. She gave him a noncommittal grunt and a curt nod.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Dr. Luitger continued. “How
are you feeling?”

“You tell me,” Allie quipped in return.

“Well, we’ve given you some fluids,” he responded, remaining
calm in the face of her annoyance. “You should be feeling a little better than
before.”

“I guess so,” she conceded, shuffling to sit upright. She
hadn’t minded seeming vulnerable in front of Reece; after all, he’d known her
since she was fifteen, there was very little he hadn’t already seen. The
doctor, however, was a stranger, and Allie could never allow him to see her
weakness. Giving herself a mental slap around the face, she demanded her body
remain alert.

The doctor slipped a hand in his pocket as he watched her
sit up straight in the bed. “That’s good,” he acknowledged with a sincere
smile. “But it’s not all good news, I’m afraid.”

“Look, I know,” she blurted, cutting him off before he could
get started. “I’m ill and I’m going to die. Guess what, it’s going to happen to
all of us one day, doc!”

Jutting out his jaw, the doctor scraped his upper lip with
his bottom teeth while casting a glance toward Reece.

The shared look of concern did not escape Allie. “What?” she
insisted.

“Ms. McLaren,” Dr. Luitger began, tipping his head to the
right sympathetically. Allie knew that look and she hated it even more than she
hated the doctors who gave it. “We’ve run a lot of tests and it seems your
cancer is progressing faster than we would have expected.”

“What does that mean?” Allie blurted, firing the question at
him, as though he were a shady politician trying to double talk his way out of
something. “Just tell me what’s going on,” she urged, staring first at the doctor
and then turning her gaze to Reece. He, however, could not hold eye contact
with her.

“You’re getting sicker,” the doctor replied honestly. “And I
would highly recommend that you stay here. We can start you on a robust course
of radiotherapy-”

“And that will cure me?” Allie asked sarcastically, knowing
the answer.

“The truth?” the doctor replied, recognizing in her eyes
that she was not one to be bullshitted. “No, probably not. But there’s a
chance,” he added assertively.

Allie shook her head defiantly, while her right hand moved
swiftly to the IV in her opposite arm and began pulling the needle from her
skin.

“What are you doing?” Reece snapped, leaping to his feet in
an attempt to stop her.

“You really should stay here,” the doctor chimed in. “We
can-”

“You can what?” Allie yelled. “You can prolong things? You
can make sure that I spend my last days in a hospital? I don’t think so.”
Ignoring Reece’s pleas and the doctor’s advice, she yanked the tubes away from
her arm and tossed them aside. Then, she pulled the covers back from the bed
and began to slide out of it.

“Aren’t you at least going to listen to him?” Reece argued.
“Don’t you want to know what your options are?”

“I know what my options are,” she muttered darkly, as she
fought with the scratchy gown in an attempt to keep herself covered as she slid
off the tall bed. Keeping her back to the two men, she also held one hand
bunching the gown at her buttocks. “Do you know how long?” she asked, looking
up into the doctor’s green eyes.

He fiddled with the edge of his coat, considering the
question. “It’s impossible to be exact about these things but, if it continues
to advance as it has, I’d say you’ve got a few months.” He was frank, direct –
exactly what Allie had asked for. He’d believed the young woman in his care was
simply in denial and hoped that learning the cold hard facts would cause her to
reconsider her rash actions. However, those thoughts were quickly wiped from
his mind, when he saw her give a nod of acceptance.

“Right,” she said. “Well, thank you,” she added, already
moving once more. Sidestepping, so she could keep her naked bottom away from
the doctor’s view, she wandered barefoot across the cold, hard tiles. “Could
you get my things together?” she asked, turning her face to Reece, as she
pushed her back up against the tiny bathroom door.

Exasperated, Reece moved across the floor in three large
strides. He stood not more than an inch from her and tipped his face to hers.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” he whispered. “You can’t just walk
out of here, Allie,” he continued not waiting for an answer to his question.
“You’re really sick, this is serious and you’d be stupid to leave this
hospital.”

“Then I suppose I’m stupid,” she shrugged, emphasizing the
final word as she shoved on the door, stepped into the bathroom and quickly
slammed the door behind her.

Reece could only look at the white panel in disbelief. With
a grunt of frustration, he lifted his palm and slapped the wall just to the
right of the door frame. “Damn it,” he exhaled sharply. “Can’t you do
something?” he said, suddenly tuning his anger at the doctor. Spinning on his
heels he stared hard at the man.

Dr. Luitger scoffed slightly, an incredulous rather than
amused sound. “What do you expect me to do, Mr. Bardell?” he wondered aloud. “I
cannot keep a patient here against her will and I can’t force treatment upon
her.”

“She’s going to die if you don’t help her,” Reece said, his
voice hushed, but his words no less demanding.

“I realize this is distressing for you,” the doctor replied,
shaking his head resignedly. “But this is your fiancée’s decision. There’s
nothing more I can do,” he stated matter-of-factly, as he moved toward the
door. “But if she does change her mind,” he added, turning at the threshold.
“You know where to find us.”

A look of steely determination descended on Reece’s usually
soft features. “She will change her mind.” The words were spoken with
conviction. In his head, there was no room for debate within that statement.
“She will change her mind,” he echoed, as he watched the doctor turn his back
and walk away.