Petite Madeleine: Drew's Story (Meadows Shore Book 3) (20 page)

She was still in the emergency room when he arrived at the hospital.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m better after some fluids. They did some blood work and an ultrasound. The uterine wall was unusually thick, which is why I’m bleeding so heavily.”

“Why did it get that way?”

She shrugged. “They’re not sure. The doctor wants to do a D and C, and an endometrial biopsy.”

“A biopsy?”

“It’s probably nothing, but…”

He squeezed her hand. “But…”

“Tamoxifen saves lives, a lot of lives, or at least it buys survivors time, but a small percentage of women who take it develop endometrial cancer.”

“That’s why they want to do the biopsy?”

“Yeah.”

“What are they waiting for?”

“They’re waiting for an operating room to become available. This isn’t an emergency.”

He pulled up a chair near the bed, “Whatever it is Cassie, we’ll get through it.”

“I’m afraid, Drew. The last time they were sure it wasn’t anything, and it turned out to be a malignancy. This time, they’re not so confident.”

He brushed her hair back from her face. “I’m nervous about what you just told me, too, but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. Let’s try to take this one step at a time.”

She nodded. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Of course I came, and I’m not leaving this place without you. Have you called your parents?”

“No. I’m going to tell them after it’s over.”

“Cass, are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think it's a good idea.”

“Why not? I’m a grown woman.”

“I know, but it’s not the way you’ve behaved with them in the past. And it’s not going to make them any more comfortable about your health. They’re always going to think you’re hiding something from them. It’ll end up making you crazy.”

“They’re going to want me to get a hysterectomy.”

“Cassie.”

“You weren’t there last time.”

“No, but I’m here this time. Right by your side, and nothing’s going to happen, no decisions are going to be made by anyone but you. Nothing’s happening that you’re not comfortable with—not one damn thing. Not as long as I’m still breathing.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll support whatever decision you make about your parents or anything else, but since we’re in this together, you’ll always get my unsolicited two cents.”

He listened while she hummed softly for about ten minutes, completely unaware that she was doing it. “You’re right. I’m hiding again. If I tell them after, they’re never going to trust anything I say about my health. They’ll worry needlessly all the time, and I don’t want that. I need to call them and tell them. It’s the right thing for them, and for me.”

He handed her his phone. “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Is Dad around?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Maybe you could put me on speaker so I can talk to both of you at the same time. Yes, I’m sure, everything’s fine.”

When it got to the part of the conversation where she said, “Please don’t come now, let’s wait for the results.” Drew sat on the bed and wrapped both arms around her from behind, and pulled her close to him.

“We’ll call as soon as we have more information. I’ll have Drew call you. Yes, as soon as we know anything. I promise.”

She hung-up and squeezed his arms. “Thank you.”

“Don’t ever thank me for standing with you. That’s where I want to be, always.”

A nurse came into the room to tell Cassie that they were ready for her downstairs.

“I love you, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“I love you. Go get some food or a coffee,” was the last thing she said to him while they wheeled her out of the room.

* * *

She stirred before opening her eyes.

“Hey sleepyhead, you’re awake.”

He saw her prodding her belly, and his heart clenched. “Everything’s still there, sweetheart. The doctor came by, and she’ll be back again later. She said the uterine lining was thick, thicker than they like to see, but there was no reason to worry. The preliminary pathology report was fine. They’ll have more information tomorrow, and the final report in a few days.”

“So happy. Would you call my parents?”

“Already done.”

“Thank you.”

“What time is it?”

“About two.”

“Anything good happen while I was asleep?”

“Will and Ella came by. They’re both in D.C. this week. And Reece called, said to tell you that she hasn’t changed her mind about the ruffled frock.”

Cassie smiled. “Reece.”

“Cole offered to talk to the doctor if there’s anything you don’t understand—said he’s happy to. And everyone else has been calling and texting. Sending you good wishes and love.”

“Luke?”

“Nah. But I’m sure he’s talked to my brothers.”

She nodded and squeezed his fingers.

Drew sat at his desk, basking in the afterglow of last night, and admiring the picture on the front page of the newspaper taken right after the epic win. The Blues were the American League champs, headed to the World Series. He could hardly believe it. And with Cassie now living in Boston, he was walking on air. He smiled at the paper. The photographer caught them right after Cassie leaped into his arms last night.

His cell phone had been going all morning, and now his desk phone was at it too.

“Harrington.”

“Drew, this is Sally Lyons in Communications.”

“Hey, Sally, surprised to hear from you so early.”

“No rest for the wicked. First, congratulations on last night. What a great win.”

“Congratulations to you, too. We’re all part of the same team.”

“I’m calling because we’ve been inundated by media requests about the woman you were photographed with last night. How do you want us to handle it?”

“Normal protocol. We respect the privacy of all our employees, and have no comment.”

“Not sure that’s going to work this time.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, the picture of you two in the paper is adorable, and two, she’s already been identified as George Anteros’ daughter. He’s a high-profile business executive, not to mention he owns a box at Yankee Stadium. I have a feeling the press isn’t going away quietly on this one. They’re like a dog with a bone with this kind of stuff.”

“Assembling a division winning team isn’t enough for them, they need details about the women I date?”

“They’re still furious with you about how the whole thing with Ski went down, and there’s more than one of them who’s out for blood. They’d love to embarrass you about Ms. Anteros’ Yankee connection.”

“I don’t embarrass that easily. I’ll field the calls, just send them through.”

“Please tread carefully, Drew, and call me back if you need our help with this.”

‘Thanks, Sally.”

Fucking press.

His desk phone rang again, a restricted number. Let the fun begin.

“Harrington.”

“Drew, Jim Rogers here. Team looked good last night, congratulations on the big win.”

“Appreciate that. They made the city proud, but we still have a lot of work ahead of us.”

“Got anything for me, man? Any injuries, Ski holding up? I’m all ears.”

“Nah, Jim, it’s early, and I don’t have anything for you. Sorry.”

“One more thing before I let you go … tell me about your relationship with Cassia Anteros.”

“Come on, Jim. A young, inexperienced Blues team makes it to the World Series, and you want to know about the women I date?”

“Everyone wants to know.”

“Cut me a break.”

“You’ve already had your break, buddy.”

“I gotta go.”

* * *

By the time the day ended, Drew had fielded more calls about Cassie than about baseball. They’d won their series handily, but the National League was still battling it out for a champion. Unfortunately, that gave the Boston press plenty of time to delve into matters outside their normal purview. Speaking of Cassie…

“Hey, Cass.”

“Has my favorite GM spent the day basking in the glory of last night’s fabulous win?”

“He has, but he’s talked to more reporters interested in the cute little number in his arms last night than in baseball.”

“I love that picture in the paper. Any chance you can get a copy of the original?”

“I think that can be arranged, but I’ll be expecting a quid pro quo. Something really spectacular.”

“More spectacular than last night?”

“I don’t think even you can top a division championship and a walk-off homerun.”

“That’s not the part of last night I was talking about.”

“Oh, you mean that little thing we did after the game in my office, when you were sprawled across my desk. Or do you mean the thing in the shower while the water cascaded over your gorgeous body. No, wait, I’ve got it. The thing we did in our bed right before I told you I was the luckiest bastard on earth. I bet your cheeks are pink, aren’t they?”

“You are too full of yourself.”

He laughed. “How’s it going at the tearoom?”

“It’s been a very productive day. All the workers showed up on time, even though they stayed up to watch the game. The win’s been big news around here, and they don’t even know my boyfriend is the sexy Blues’ GM.”

“I’ll call you before I leave and we can pick up takeout for dinner on the way home.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Cass, I need to go, my inside line’s ringing again.”

“Harrington.”

“Drew, it’s Sally Lyons.”

“Let me guess, they want to know about my family now.”

“No they learned everything they needed to know about your family when you were hired. They’re still on your relationship with Ms. Anteros.”

“
Jesus.
There’s really not that much to know.”

“They don’t quite see it that way. Do you know she was engaged before?”

“I do.”

“Apparently there are some clips that have been unearthed of the engagement announcement during a Blues-Yankees game.”

“I was there.”

“They also know she’s a breast cancer survivor, and they believe she had a mastectomy.”

“
Fuck!
How did they find out all this shit in one day? She’s a very private person, Sally, this will be upsetting to her, to say the least. Please tell me they have one shred of decency, and they’re not planning to print this stuff about her?”

“I wouldn’t count decency among Jim Rogers’ character traits.”

“Who else has this information?”

“As far as I know, none of the other outlets have dug that deep. Rogers is going to want to play it close to the vest. He won’t want to get scooped on this.”

“Any ideas about how to stop him?”

“Stop him, no, but we could take some of the sting out with a press release.”

“A press release is just going to whet everyone’s appetite for the main course.”

“You’re probably right. But it would give you and Ms. Anteros some control over the situation. Talk to her, and I’ll keep my cell phone with me. Let me know if you want me to draft a release.”

“Thanks, Sally.”

“Drew, there’s probably not a lot of time to think about this. I wouldn’t be surprised to see the story in tomorrow’s paper.”

* * *

“Wow! I can’t believe how much progress you’ve made since I was here a few days ago.”

She tugged his arm. “Come in the kitchen! They delivered the ovens, and I’m so excited to use them.”

“Yeah.”

“Is everything okay, are you just tired from a long night?”

“Cassie, let’s sit for second.”

“Okay.”

“Remember how I told you that reporters have been calling all day trying to get information about you?”

She nodded, and he grabbed her hand and held on for dear life. “They know about Ned, the broken engagement, the mastectomy.”

She paled. “
Oh, God!
Are they going to print it?”

“Sally Lyons, the head of communication, believes they are, maybe as soon as tomorrow’s paper.”

Cassie stood up and paced the room, hugging her arms to herself.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Is there anything we can do to stop it? Should I speak to a lawyer?”

“We can talk to whomever you’d like, of course, but I spoke with in-house counsel for the Blues, and to my brother Mark on the way over here, and they don’t think we would be successful getting an injunction. And even if we were, little bits of information would leak out anyway. Apparently the courthouse is like sieve.”

Drew’s cell phone rang, and he glanced at the number on the screen. “It’s Mark.”

“Answer it.”

“Yeah? She’s right here with me. Hold on.”

“Cass, Mark has an idea he wants to talk to us about. I’m going to put him on speaker.”

“Go ahead, Mark.”

“Cassie I’m sorry about this shit, but I might have a solution—it’s not perfect, but—”

Drew was growing impatient. “Just spit it out already, for crying out loud.”

“Jolene Harris is the editor of the Sunday Magazine. She’s trustworthy, and she’s a friend. I bet she’d love to print your story.”

“How the hell does that help us?” shouted Drew.

“Same people who sign her paycheck, sign Jim Rogers’ paycheck. I guarantee they’ll stop his little article from being printed tomorrow if you promise her a full spread exclusive, with glossy pictures of the two of you together. You’re never going to completely squelch it. The best you’ll do is to have some measure of control over what’s printed. She’ll write a story that won’t make you cringe as much as the one he’ll write. I promise you that.”

“This is absolutely the dum—”

“Let’s do it.”

“Cassie, we’re talking the Boston Sunday Magazine. Everybody and their mother reads that. Not everyone reads Jim Rogers’ columns.”

“Mark’s right, if every sordid detail of my life is going to be made public, then I want to tell the story my way. I don’t want it written by some slimeball who has a vendetta against you.”

She reached for Drew’s hand and squeezed. “Mark, please call your friend.”

* * *

Drew was up at the crack of dawn to read the Sunday Magazine. Jolene Harris had sent them a copy of the article last night, and he wanted to be sure what she sent was what had actually been printed. The article had been focused on their love story. His own struggle with depression, Cassie’s engagement to Ned, and her breast cancer were all mentioned, but not explored in depth. It was a tasteful piece that both he and Cassie could live with. In many ways it would have been beautiful if it hadn’t made public so many things they preferred to keep private. But in some ways having everything out in the open was freeing.

The next time they were in the spotlight, like when he asked her to marry him, it would all be moot. And he planned to ask her right after the season was over.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“I’m awake, lolling in bed until my boyfriend brings me the breakfast he promised.”

“I have it right here, just like I promised.”

“What did you make?” she asked burrowing under the covers.

“Coffee, tea, bagels, cream cheese, and grapes.”

“Oh good, you didn’t actually cook anything.”

He pinched her bottom, and she squealed.

“Time to get up, lazy bones.”

“Did you bring the Sunday Magazine?”

“I did. Are you sure you want to read it while you eat?”

“Jolene sent us a copy of the article, so I already know what’s in it.”

“You haven’t seen the pictures. And who knows? Maybe they printed the one with the big wart on your nose.”

She swatted him playfully on the leg. “I don’t have any warts on my nose.”

“If you say so,” he said, sliding under the covers with her, bagels and the Sunday Magazine all but forgotten.