The wait was the worst of it. Every delayed minute a tortuous twist of his frayed nerves. He filled the endless time with business calls at first. Graduated to emails on his black berry next, then practiced deleting numbers of women he intended never to call again. He reorganized web apps and downloaded a few. That filled maybe thirty minutes. With no other options he moved on to light reading. No magazine article between the countless pages he leafed through cleared his mind. Not a fucking sports magazine in the bunch. Nope, he’d read Women’s Health, McCall’s, O, and learned how to beat PMS then learned what men ‘really’ want—bullshit!

The safest reads were the National Geographic’s. Not the kind he’d sneak as a kid that featured indigenous tribes of women with their tits on display and bones through their noses. A thirteen-year-old boy’s Playboy magazine. No, most of the pages were more articles and research than pictures. Boring! The fourth one, had some cool locations for sailing. Chet smiled thinking of Dena on his sailboat as it coasted the turquoise waters along the Mediterranean Sea. Now this he could get with. He tossed it on top of the other NG’s settling into the sweet images of Dena and that sexy bronzed body of hers in a bathing suit. He had the pleasure once of seeing her in one and it early knocked him on his ass. The curves, the flat petite waist, an shaped for a man’s hands. She was and is the sexiest creature he’s ever had the pleasure with. How’d he’d settled for just casually knowing her pleasures confounded him. He smiled. His Dena, he was going to give her the world, make up for all the bullshit she was suffering through now. She’d see.

Soon the cold reality overshadowed his fantasy. If Dena did have cancer the breast he loved would be no more. Their lives would forever change. Chet checked his watch again with growing anxiety. He couldn’t believe it had only been three and half-hours now. He was certain it was five. He combed his fingers back through his thick locks and tried again to summon patience.

Waiting was the worst of it….so far

The door opened. His eyes lifted, a little hopeful. But the short stocky nurse with a messy chignon that she tried to smooth when their eyes met called for another patient. He had a half mind to sweet-talk her into letting him in. It wouldn’t be hard. It was never really hard. Except lately his silver tongue did nothing but piss Dena off. Fuck it! He should march on in. He should be in there. From the parking lot to the elevator ride up he tried to convince her, reason with her, even threaten her, but she refused. Ultimately he had to respect her wishes. Though he didn’t want too. Now sitting was all he could do. The worst. Sitting. Waiting. Worrying.

“Bored?” a woman’s voice thick and sultry came in a whisper from the left. Chet dared a look at the source. He’d been so consumed with his own bullshit he hadn’t seen her arrive. She was a striking brunette with the bluest eyes, swept under dark lashes that any red-blooded man would drown in. She smiled sweetly, crossing her legs. The action drew her skirt up an inch to reveal her creamy marble thighs. “The magazine, you looked bored. Are you done?”

“Sure…yes, I’m done.” He said reaching to hand it over.

“Thank you.” She accepted it graciously. He caught a hint of her fragrance as she leaned over. “I’m Gabriella.” Chet nodded at the greeting. He looked up from her glossy pink lips, over the slender bridge of her nose, then again into her eyes. The invitation for a deeper conversation sparkled as she lifted a perfectly arched brow. He didn’t bother. Though admittedly to look away was a forced effort not a natural one. Dena’s question still haunted him. “How do you know? HOW DO YOU KNOW!! You got a certificate? You graduate from the school of assholes to the college of heroes? Where’s the proof? This? Us?” she laughed at him.