Chapter 10 - Choosing Each Other, Every Single Day
The 48 hours between the repeat scan and the phone call with the results were the longest of their lives. They didn’t leave the house, didn’t answer the phone (except for calls from Margaret and Rico), spent most of their time on the couch, watching old movies, holding hands, not talking much. They’d said everything there was to say at the beach. Now, they just waited.
The phone rang at 10 a.m. on Tuesday. Nathan was in the kitchen making coffee, and Grace was sitting on the couch, her legs curled up under her, when the caller ID showed Mercy General Oncology. She froze, her hand flying to her mouth, and Nathan ran over, sitting down next to her, and answered the phone, putting it on speaker.
“Hi, is this Grace Brooks?” It was Dr. Patel’s nurse, her voice cheerful.
“This is her husband, Nathan,” he said, his voice tight. “Grace is here with me. We’re on speaker. Do you have the results of her scan?”
“Sure do,” the nurse said, and Nathan’s heart hammered so hard he thought it would jump out of his chest. “Dr. Patel wanted me to call and let you know the spot on the lung is completely unchanged. Same size, same density, no new spots anywhere else. Dr. Patel says it’s almost certainly benign scar tissue. No signs of metastatic disease. No biopsy needed. You’re good to go back to your regular three-month follow-up schedule. Congratulations, you two.”
The nurse said something else, but Nathan didn’t hear it. He dropped the phone on the couch, turned to Grace, and pulled her into his arms, sobbing so hard his whole body shook. She cried too, laughing and crying at the same time, her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him so tight he could barely breathe. “We did it,” she kept saying, over and over. “We did it, Nate. It’s gone. It’s really gone.”
They stayed like that for an hour, holding each other, crying, laughing, calling Margaret and Rico and Lila to tell them the good news, everyone crying on the other end of the line. When they finally calmed down, Nathan stood up, pulling Grace with him, and grabbed his keys. “C’mon. We’re going somewhere.”
“Where?” she asked, wiping her eyes, smiling. “Tacos? You promised me tacos.”
“Later,” he said, grinning, pulling her out to the truck. “First, we’ve got a stop to make.”
He drove her to the same park in Arlington where he’d proposed five years prior, the same bench where they’d sat a few months prior, when he’d put her engagement ring back on her finger. The sun was shining, the fountain was running, kids were laughing and playing on the playground nearby, and Nathan led her to the bench, sitting down next to her, his hand in his pocket.
“Grace Marie Brooks,” he said, turning to look at her, his voice serious. “Five years ago, I got down on one knee right here and asked you to marry me. I promised to love you, to honor you, to take care of you, in sickness and in health. And I failed. For a year, I failed. I let my fear and my anger and my stupidity blind me to the woman I love, to the fact that you were fighting for your life alone, and I almost threw away the best thing that ever happened to me.” He pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket, opening it. Inside was a new ring: a thin platinum band, with a small, sparkling diamond in the center, flanked by two tiny sapphires—Grace’s birthstone. “But I got a second chance. And I’m not gonna waste it. So today, I’m asking you again. Not just to be my wife. But to let me love you, every single day for the rest of our lives. To let me be your partner, through the good and the bad, the sick and the healthy, the easy days and the hard ones. No more secrets. No more running. No more choosing anything over each other. Will you marry me? Again?”
Grace stared at him, her mouth open, tears spilling down her face, then nodded so fast her hair (now a short, curly brown bob) bounced. “Yes. A thousand times yes. Always yes.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger, right next to her original engagement ring and wedding band, and kissed her, the sun shining down on them, the world feeling bright and new and full of possibility.
A year later, Grace was in full remission. Her hair was long again, curly and brown, just like it had been when they first met. She’d quit her job at the hospital and was halfway through her nurse practitioner degree, working part-time at a free clinic for low-income women in D.C. Nathan’s company had finished the Capitol Hill contract to rave reviews, had landed three more big government jobs, and he’d hired a full-time operations manager so he never had to choose between work and family again. They’d moved into the big house in the country they’d talked about, a four-bedroom colonial in Loudoun County, with a big porch, a backyard big enough for a dog and a swing set, and a nursery painted soft yellow, waiting.
On their 10th wedding anniversary, they had a small vow renewal in Margaret’s backyard, surrounded by 50 of their closest friends and family. Rico was Nathan’s best man, Lila was Grace’s maid of honor, and Dr. Patel was there, too, cheering the loudest when they kissed. Nathan gave a speech that made everyone cry, talking about the day he’d stood on Margaret’s porch with divorce papers in his pocket, about how he’d almost lost the love of his life because he’d been too stupid to see what was right in front of him, about how love wasn’t about the perfect dates or the easy days—it was about showing up, even when it was hard, about choosing each other, every single day.
A month later, they got a call from the adoption agency. There was a baby girl, born that morning, 7 pounds 2 ounces, with brown eyes and a head full of dark hair, and she was theirs. They drove to the hospital that night, holding each other in the elevator, and when the nurse handed Nathan their daughter, wrapped in a pink blanket, he cried. He looked at Grace, standing next to him, her face glowing as she looked down at the baby, and he knew. All the pain, all the fear, all the hard days—they’d all led to this. To this perfect, tiny human, to their family, to the life they’d fought so hard to build.
That night, they brought the baby home, laying her in the yellow crib in the nursery, and stood there, looking down at her, Nathan’s arm wrapped around Grace’s waist. “What should we name her?” Grace asked, her voice soft.
Nathan thought for a minute, smiling. “Hope. Grace Hope Brooks. Because that’s what got us through. Hope. And you.”
Grace leaned her head on his shoulder, looking down at their daughter, and smiled. “Hope. I love it.”
May you like
Outside, the sun was setting over the Virginia countryside, painting the sky pink and orange, and Nathan held his wife and his daughter, and knew that whatever came next—good days, bad days, hard days, easy days—they’d face it together. No more secrets. No more running. No more divorce papers in brown envelopes. Just them. Choosing each other, every single day, for the rest of their lives.
And that was more than enough.
