Frosted Midnight: A Christmas Novella by Breena Wilde, !2 NAs of Christmas Page A

we need to go after the cancer aggressively. I think we should operate to remove them and then—”
    “Wait.” I raised my hand. “My doctor told me the tumor I had was inoperable, that the only treatment was chemo. Are you saying you can operate on them?”
    “Yes, Miss St. James, I’m saying I can operate and that I can get most i f not all of the tumors. Once the operation is over, I’ll recommend you go through a round of chemotherapy and that should destroy the rest, leaving your body cancer free.”
    I leaned forward. “And what are the risks of doing the operation ?” Obviously if my doctor said he couldn’t do it that meant it was difficult to say the least, probably near impossible.
    “Well,” she took off her reading glasses and clasped her hands together. “There is a chance you’ll be paralyzed, if not fully then partially from the waist down , and there’s also the possibility that there’ll be complications while you’re on the table and you’ll die.”
    I glanced at Austin finally with raised eyebrows. He was pale and his jaws were clenched together.
    Austin was freaking out.
    Keeping my eyes on him, I asked, “Okay, and if I don’t do the surgery? What then?”
    She nodded as though she expected the question. “Then you’ll live a relatively pain free life over the next three to six months. A year if you’re lucky.”
    Austin closed his eyes and I felt the butterflies burst.
    “How soon do I need to give you an answer?” I turned back to the doctor.
    “The sooner the better.” She clicked a few buttons on her computer. “I can get you in for the surgery on Friday at eight-thirty in the morning, if that’s what you decide to do.” She leaned back. “Mr. Merrick, do you have any questions?”
    He opened his eyes. “No, not at the moment.” Then he stood and stuck out his hand. The doctor took it. “Thank you so much for your time, Vivianne. I really—” his voice broke.
    “It’s my pleasure, Austin. Really.” She patted his hand.
    Austin grabbed my hand and we walked to the door. “We’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow. Will that be enough time?”
    “Yes, that’ll be fine.”
    We left , walked past the receptionist and over to the elevator. Austin pushed the down arrow. I sensed the stress rolling off him.
    “Are you going to be okay?” I asked quietly.
    He glanced over but didn’t respond.
    The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. He pushed the L for lobby and we rode down in silence.
    When we were outside, Austin leaned over taking in big gulps of air. I stood beside him, wondering if he was going to puke. Emma had been sick often enough that I figured I could handle it. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sob that ripped from his chest. It tore into me.
    “Austin,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around him. We were on the sidewalk. People gave us a wide berth and I was grateful.
    He seemed to suddenly realize where we were and stood, adjusted the jacket on his black suit, and grabbed my hand. We walked to his vehicle—a big black truck. He unlocked it and helped me in.
    When the doors were shut he started the car, then turned to face me. “You’re having the surgery.”
    “Excuse me?” I said, irritated by his commanding voice.
    “There isn’t even a question. Of course you’ll have the surgery.” 
    I buckled my seatbelt and turned away from him. “I could die,” I whispered, thinking about Emma. It was a Monday. Emma was almost six months old, and in four days I could be dead. No more seeing her beautiful face, kissing her chubby cheeks, kissing her sweet feet. Nothing. I wasn’t ready for that possibility.
    “You won’t die. You won’t,” he said, his voice full of anguish.
    It almost killed me hearing the pain in his voice. He’d already lost his first love, and now he might lose me. I wished there was a way I could take his pain away. I would do anything in my power to make him happy. Anything.
    “You don’t know that. You