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Book: Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) by Mary Crawford
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Authors: Mary Crawford
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soul-searching.”
“MARK, I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT you’re here this morning. Doesn’t your trial start this morning?” I ask, looking out the front door. I’m barely able to make out the neighborhood in the early morning dawn.
He glances down at himself in his casual outfit and asks, “I suppose you wouldn’t believe I was just out for a run?”
“If it wasn’t five in the morning and I didn’t live 17 miles from you — oh wait, Ketki told me that it’s actually 17.93 miles from you — I might actually be more inclined to buy your story. However, it is actually five in the morning on a really big day for you. Shouldn’t you be sleeping or inhaling copious amounts of coffee or something?”
“Can’t do that,” he states simply.
“Can’t do what?” I ask, far too sleepy for this conversation.
“It would be rude, because you can’t,” he answers.
“It’s not that big of a deal. You know my eating habits are weird. You didn’t have to deprive yourself just for me. None of that explains why you’re here,” I reply, as I go over to the round hanging chair and sit down, tucking my feet under me.
“When we talked last on the phone, you seemed pretty nervous. I thought that you might want some company until Jade and Diamond can get here,” he explains.
I start to weave the fringe on the blanket that I pulled over my legs as I admit, “I am nervous. I’ve hardly ever gone to the doctor before this, let alone had surgery. The whole experience is strange to me. It’s a little overwhelming.”
“I’m so sorry I can’t be there for you,” Mark says running his hand through his short cropped hair and pacing around my small living room. “I put Ketki in summer camp because I thought the trial might hit this week, but there was no way to plan for this too.”
Something about Mark’s meltdown over my cancer strikes me as funny — perhaps it’s because it’s five o’clock in the morning — and I let out an audible snicker as I respond, “Of course you couldn’t plan for this! When exactly were you supposed to plan for it…before you met me?” I ask, challenging him on his logic.
“Still, you don’t have anybody. I should be there for you. It’s the right thing to do,” Mark argues.
“Not that I’m judging anybody — because, you know I’m not in any real position to do that — you and your friends are the weirdest people I’ve ever met…and that’s saying something because I was raised in a cult .”
He looks like he’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or cross-examine me as he comments, “I think I’ll ask more questions before I decide whether I’m offended.”
“No, seriously… look at it from my perspective: I’ve been alone for a really long time — pretty much all by myself wandering through life. One day, I stop to get a tattoo because I got some spectacularly good news and instead got pitched onto a path that completely changed my life. Okay, it’s not like that’s never happened to me before. I’m used to the rug being pulled out from under me.”
“I’m so sorry for whatever role I’ve played in making this worse for you,” Mark murmurs as he walks toward me to give me a hug.
I hold my hand to stop him as I continue, “It was a little strange, but not the strangest thing that happened that day. I walked away feeling scared and lonely, thinking to myself that normal people can call their mom and get chicken soup and have a good cry. The oncologist that I went to see was kind of a jerk about the fact that I didn’t have any support system around me. I couldn’t explain to her without completely baring my soul. You’ve met the woman, you can understand why I didn’t want to disclose anything to her. She didn’t listen to me then, just like she didn’t listen when she started randomly cutting parts of me away.”
The muscle in Mark’s jaw visibly tightens as he responds, “Well, you don’t have to deal with that jerk anymore. You
“MARK, I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT you’re here this morning. Doesn’t your trial start this morning?” I ask, looking out the front door. I’m barely able to make out the neighborhood in the early morning dawn.
He glances down at himself in his casual outfit and asks, “I suppose you wouldn’t believe I was just out for a run?”
“If it wasn’t five in the morning and I didn’t live 17 miles from you — oh wait, Ketki told me that it’s actually 17.93 miles from you — I might actually be more inclined to buy your story. However, it is actually five in the morning on a really big day for you. Shouldn’t you be sleeping or inhaling copious amounts of coffee or something?”
“Can’t do that,” he states simply.
“Can’t do what?” I ask, far too sleepy for this conversation.
“It would be rude, because you can’t,” he answers.
“It’s not that big of a deal. You know my eating habits are weird. You didn’t have to deprive yourself just for me. None of that explains why you’re here,” I reply, as I go over to the round hanging chair and sit down, tucking my feet under me.
“When we talked last on the phone, you seemed pretty nervous. I thought that you might want some company until Jade and Diamond can get here,” he explains.
I start to weave the fringe on the blanket that I pulled over my legs as I admit, “I am nervous. I’ve hardly ever gone to the doctor before this, let alone had surgery. The whole experience is strange to me. It’s a little overwhelming.”
“I’m so sorry I can’t be there for you,” Mark says running his hand through his short cropped hair and pacing around my small living room. “I put Ketki in summer camp because I thought the trial might hit this week, but there was no way to plan for this too.”
Something about Mark’s meltdown over my cancer strikes me as funny — perhaps it’s because it’s five o’clock in the morning — and I let out an audible snicker as I respond, “Of course you couldn’t plan for this! When exactly were you supposed to plan for it…before you met me?” I ask, challenging him on his logic.
“Still, you don’t have anybody. I should be there for you. It’s the right thing to do,” Mark argues.
“Not that I’m judging anybody — because, you know I’m not in any real position to do that — you and your friends are the weirdest people I’ve ever met…and that’s saying something because I was raised in a cult .”
He looks like he’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or cross-examine me as he comments, “I think I’ll ask more questions before I decide whether I’m offended.”
“No, seriously… look at it from my perspective: I’ve been alone for a really long time — pretty much all by myself wandering through life. One day, I stop to get a tattoo because I got some spectacularly good news and instead got pitched onto a path that completely changed my life. Okay, it’s not like that’s never happened to me before. I’m used to the rug being pulled out from under me.”
“I’m so sorry for whatever role I’ve played in making this worse for you,” Mark murmurs as he walks toward me to give me a hug.
I hold my hand to stop him as I continue, “It was a little strange, but not the strangest thing that happened that day. I walked away feeling scared and lonely, thinking to myself that normal people can call their mom and get chicken soup and have a good cry. The oncologist that I went to see was kind of a jerk about the fact that I didn’t have any support system around me. I couldn’t explain to her without completely baring my soul. You’ve met the woman, you can understand why I didn’t want to disclose anything to her. She didn’t listen to me then, just like she didn’t listen when she started randomly cutting parts of me away.”
The muscle in Mark’s jaw visibly tightens as he responds, “Well, you don’t have to deal with that jerk anymore. You
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