How Much I Love by Marie Force

Chapter 6

WYATT

Ifeel sick. Leaving Dee is the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long time, especially since all I want is to be with her, even if we only talk. I love talking to her. I’ve been lucky these last seventeen years. I’ve never met a woman who made me want more, so I was able to skate through life relatively unscathed, protecting my fragile heart from anything even close to heartbreak.

Until now.

I want to rage at the sheer injustice of having finally met a woman who checks all my boxes, only to have to walk away from her to spare us both from eventual disaster. I simply cannot subject her to the reality that is my life—and I can’t do it to myself, either.

But God, I want to, and oh, how I ache from knowing I just can’t.

In the Uber, I text Jay to let him know I’m on the way back to his place.

Hit me up when you get here, and I’ll buzz you in.

Will do.

I didn’t want to leave Dee. I would’ve given anything to spend another night with her, even if nothing else happened between us. Just being in the same room with her gives me a feeling of joy I’ve never experienced before. It’s the highest of highs—and it’s the best sort of high, the all-natural kind.

I’ve watched my brother and friends fall in love, settle down, give up their freedom for the chance to spend forever with one person, and I’ll admit I just didn’t get why they’d do that. Since meeting Dee, spending time with her, sleeping with her and then thinking about her obsessively for months, I’m starting to understand.

If they feel for their partners the way I do when she’s nearby, then I see why they’d take the plunge if it means holding on to that amazing feeling for as long as they can.

The traffic is light, and I’m back at Jay’s place fifteen minutes after I left Dee’s. I shoot him a text to let him know I’ve arrived.

He replies with instructions on using the keypad next to the door and then buzzes me in.

I take the elevator to their floor and step off. The first thing I notice is Jay standing in the doorway, holding the door open for me. He’s wearing only a pair of basketball shorts, which has me wondering if I got him out of bed.

“Sorry to be a pain,” I tell him when I walk past him into the apartment.

“You’re not, but we need to talk.” He nods to the deck. “Outside.”

What’s this about?

“You want some seltzer or something else?”

“Seltzer is fine.”

“I’ll meet you out there.”

I leave the sliding door open for him, and he joins me a minute later with the seltzer for me and a beer for himself. He slides the door closed behind him.

“What’s up?”

“I guess that’s what I want to know. What’s going on with you and Dee?”

“Nothing.” Even as I say that single word, the ache intensifies. “Now.”

“What does that mean?”

“We spent time together after the wedding.” I tell him the truth because he’s one of my closest friends, and I refuse to be the source of trouble between him and his new wife. “But that’s all it was.”

“You seemed pretty damned into her tonight if that’s all it was.”

“I was into her. I am into her, but reality has reared its ugly head to remind me of why that’s not possible. I was honest with her.”

Jason’s eyes widen with surprise because he knows I don’t tell anyone the whole truth about myself. “You told her—”

“No, I said it couldn’t be anything more than fun.”

“What’d she say to that?”

“She was okay with it until she wasn’t. Things were getting a bit… intense… between us when she called a halt to it. After everything that happened with her ex, she doesn’t want to set herself up to be hurt again.” I take a sip of my seltzer, hoping it’ll wash down the massive lump in my throat. “I guess she’s not really into the casual thing with guys.”

“She was with her ex for years.”

“There you have it.”

I move to the rail and look out over Biscayne Bay, where the faintest hint of moon silvers the water. After living most of my life in the desert, the lush beauty of South Florida amazes me. I’d never been here before Jay’s wedding, but the place has touched me in more ways than one.

“Are you bummed?”

I shrug because that’s what he expects me to do. “No biggie.”

He joins me at the rail. “I’m calling bullshit on that.”

“How come?”

“I’ve known you a long time, seen you with a lot of women, and I’ve never once seen you act around one the way you did with her earlier.”

His observation makes me feel a little too seen. “How was it different?” I ask, even though I already know. I want to hear it from him.

“You never took your eyes off her. You hung on her every word. You laughed like I’ve never seen you laugh with anyone.”

Every one of his observations makes me sadder than I already was for what can never be. “It wouldn’t be fair, Jay. To either of us.” I lean my elbows on the rail and sag against the concrete, letting it hold me up. “One thing I’ve never been is unrealistic, and we both know I’m living on borrowed time and have been for a while now.”

“What if you’re the one who defies the odds?”

“I already have, and you know that. The average life expectancy after transplant is eleven years. I’m at seventeen. I should’ve had issues long before now.”

“But you haven’t because you take such immaculate care of yourself.”

“Yes, I do, but eventually, reality will catch up to me, and then what? A sudden death that’ll traumatize everyone who loves me or another agonizing wait for a donor that may or may not materialize, followed by months of recovery and the roller coaster of possible rejection. I can’t bear the idea of that for myself. How do I drag someone else into that?”

“I’m sorry, Wyatt. It fucking sucks.”

“Yep, but it sure does beat the alternative.”

He laughs as I recite the refrain that sums up my life rather perfectly. I’m thankful for every second I’ve gotten since someone else had to die to give me the chance to live. I never forget how close I came to dying or how lucky I am to still be healthy. But I also never forget that the odds are stacked heavily against my good health lasting indefinitely.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got better things to be doing than hanging with me. Go to bed with your wife.”

“She’s out cold by now. I’m glad to get the chance to hang with you, just the two of us. It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”

“Yeah, too long.”

We had all the fun in med school. Jason is the first friend I made after regaining full health, and I appreciate that he’s never treated me like an invalid, even after I told him the truth. My parents and doctors insisted that someone at Duke know the whole story in case I ran into trouble. Shortly after I met Jay and bonded with him, I decided he was the one I’d trust. I’ve never regretted that decision.

“I’m sorry you’re bummed.”

“It’s okay. I’ll survive. Well, until I die, anyway.”

“Don’t say that. I believe you’re going to be the exception to all the rules. You already have been.”

In all the years since my transplant, I’ve only thrived. From the first minute I woke up after the twelve-hour surgery, I felt reborn. I’ve never once come close to rejecting my donor heart or had any sort of scare. My case has been covered in numerous medical journals as a true success story.

Anytime another longtime transplant patient passes away, the media calls to interview me. Somehow, I’ve become the “poster child” for successful heart transplants. But even the poster child will one day have his day of reckoning, and I’m determined not to take anyone else down with me, even if I’m more tempted to break my own rules with Dee than I ever have been before.

“Enough about me,” I say. “Let’s talk about you. How are things?”

“Never been better. The best thing I ever did was take a job in ‘Siberia,’ aka Miami, where I met my beautiful wife and her incredible family. I love it here.”

“I can see that. Marriage looks good on you.”

“We’re enjoying it. Carmen… She’s the best person I’ve ever known.”

“I’m happy for you both.”

“We are, too,” he says with a dirty grin. “It’s funny how I had no interest in marriage for so long, but after I met Carmen, it was all I wanted, to be bound to her forever so she could never get away.”

“She’s not going anywhere. For some reason, she’s crazy about you.”

“I’m a very lucky man.” He leans on the concrete wall, facing the water. “I wish you could have the same thing, Wy. Even if it’s only for a few years.”

His softly spoken words spark a fierce yearning in me, to know what it’s like to be in love, truly in love, for the first time in my life. That could happen with Dee. I have no doubt about it. A big part of me wants to reach out and go for it, to hell with the consequences. But how can I do that to her? How can I ask her to take that kind of risk? I can’t, and that’s the end of it. Better to quit thinking about what can never be than to torture myself with what-ifs.

“I should hit the sack,” I tell Jason, eager to end this conversation and to be by myself after this emotionally draining day. As I follow Jason inside, I realize I never should’ve come back here. That was the biggest mistake I could’ve made, and on Monday, I’ll call Miami-Dade and cancel my appointment to meet with their chief of surgery and other management. I can’t move here and live in the same city as Dee and not see her or want her. That’s just not possible.

“Do you have everything you need?” Jay asks.

“I do. Thanks again for having me.”

“Anytime. You know that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Jay.”

For a long time after Jason’s bedroom door closes, I’m awake, staring up at the condo’s high ceiling. Through the huge windows that make up one entire wall, I see stars twinkling above. Carmen warned me earlier that it would be bright after the sunrise, but I told her I don’t mind that. I can sleep through just about anything, except heartache, it seems.

I have an extraordinary life, a career I busted my ass for and a calling to care for patients that comes from a place of understanding and compassion other physicians can’t possibly have the way I do.

My incredible parents moved heaven and earth to save my life, mortgaging everything they owned to pay substantial medical bills that insurance didn’t cover. Our community raised a lot of money for us that helped with the added expenses that come with serious illness. What was left over, my parents put into an account for me that my grandfather has managed and grown. It’s not a fortune, but it’s a nice little nest egg in addition to what I’ve managed to put away myself.

My parents saved my life as much as the doctors who operated on me. I’m blessed to have the love and support of my entire extended family and friends like Jason, who’ve become like family over the years. I’ve always known I’d never get married or have a family, and I made peace with that a long time ago. Or so I thought. Dee has made me wish for things I’ve never wanted before.

But I can’t do that. I won’t do it—to myself or her.

I turn on my side and stare out at the vast darkness of the bay, waiting for sleep to catch up to me.

My racing mind circles back to an earlier thought about how the media contacts me anytime a longtime heart transplant patient dies. Those interviews are online if Dee were to do a deeper search on me.

God, I hope she doesn’t do that.

DEE

Dr. Wyatt Blake, a board-certified cardiothoracic surgeon at Valley of the Sun Health in Phoenix, Arizona, nationally recognized expert on aortic dissection and replacement and an international expert on the doctor-patient relationship stemming from his personal experiences as a patient.

I dig deeper into journal articles and media stories attached to his name. It takes about forty minutes before I hit pay dirt with a quote from him as a long-surviving heart transplant patient.

I gasp as I read that.

Oh my God.

He had a heart transplant when he was… I do fast math in my head… seventeen. Why doesn’t he have a scar? I no sooner have that thought than I recall the massive, intricate tattoo on his chest that hides the scar.

I spend the next hour at the bottom of a deep rabbit hole of heart transplant websites, reading statistics about life expectancy after transplant and quickly realizing that Wyatt has defied the odds, having lived for years longer than most transplant patients do.

I’m at once thrilled and terrified. Wyatt defied the odds. But how long can that last?

Of those who survive the first year, only half survive to year thirteen. The numbers go down from there. Repeat transplants have an even shorter life expectancy, and most die from rejection issues as well as graft failure and something called relapsing graft vasculopathy.

I read about a man named John McCafferty, who received a transplant in the UK at thirty-nine and lived into his seventies. And then I read about how rare stories like McCafferty’s are, and I begin to get a better understanding of why Wyatt doesn’t do relationships.

Suddenly, I need to talk to him. Before I can take even one second to question the wisdom of continuing down this path with him, I fire off a text to him. Are you awake?

I’m thrilled to see the bubbles that indicate he’s typing and wait for him to respond. Yes, but why are you?

I couldn’t sleep after you left. Can you talk?

Sure. Hang on. Let me go outside, so I don’t bother Jason and Carmen.

While I wait for him to call, I run my fingers through my hair as if I’m going to see him and need to make myself ready. My heart is beating hard in anticipation of hearing his voice. Am I going to tell him what I found out? Will he think it’s a terrible invasion of his privacy?

When the phone rings and I nearly stroke out with excitement, I realize something else. I’m already falling for this guy, which could be very dangerous for my own battered heart. “Hi.”

“Hey. Why are you awake at one-thirty?”

“I was, um, wound up after you left and… Wyatt?”

“Yeah?”

“I googled you again and dug a little deeper this time.”

He groans. “I was afraid you’d do that.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not mad. It’s what people do in this day and age when we want to know the lowdown on someone who’s being mysterious.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I can hear his sigh loud and clear. “Because. I don’t talk about it, except when another longtime survivor dies and the media calls for a quote. Otherwise, I try not to think about it and just do my thing. It dominated everything for the first half of my life, you know? I’ve been determined not to let it dominate the second half, too.”

“This is why you don’t do relationships, right?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t be fair to let someone have feelings for me when I might not be around to make it worthwhile for them.”

“What about John McCafferty?”

“What about him?”

“He lived for forty-something years after transplant.”

“That’s extraordinarily rare.”

“But that could be you, couldn’t it?”

“Sure, but it’s not likely, and it’s why I made my peace a long time ago with going it alone. It wouldn’t be fair to drag someone else into this situation. I’m like a ticking time bomb at this point. It could all go south anytime.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if it doesn’t go south, and you just live a regular life?”

“That’d be awesome, but I don’t expect that to happen.”

“If it does, you’d spend your entire life alone because something might happen?”

“I’m not alone, Dee. I have a wonderful family, terrific friends and colleagues—”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No.”

I wonder if he hears how sad he sounds. “You can’t miss out on knowing what it’s like to be in love, Wyatt. It’s one of the greatest things in life.” I still feel that way, even after how things ended with Marcus.

“You make me want to say fuck it to all my rules and fall the rest of the way in love with you.”

“Do I?”

“You do. And no one else I’ve ever met has made me want to say fuck it to my rules, Dee.”

Am I swooning? I’m definitely swooning.“Is that right?”

“It is.”

“So, what’re you going to do about this desire to say fuck the rules?”

“Nothing,” he says softly.

“I reject that answer.”

His laughter makes me smile. “Hear me out on this, okay?”

“I’m listening.”

“Say I toss my rules aside, move here and go all-in with you.”

“That sounds pretty good to me so far.”

“It does to me, too. But then say we let things get totally out of hand and get married, and then I start to have problems. It may start as pain in my chest or an infection that refuses to clear up. Or maybe I have a stroke, or one day you wake up, and I’m gone.”

“Th-that could happen?”

“Any of it could happen, among many other things. I don’t want to do that to you, Dee. I don’t want to do that to anyone, so it’s just easier not to go there, you know?”

“I hear what you’re saying. I do. However…”

“What, honey?”

More swooning. “I want you to know what it feels like to be in love, Wyatt. I want you to have that experience.”

“I’d want that more than anything if things were different, but I keep going back to the matter of fairness and how it wouldn’t be fair to let someone fall in love with me, knowing how the odds are stacked against me.”

“What if…”

“You’re making me crazy,” he says with a low laugh.

“Should we stop talking about this?”

“Crazy in a good way.”

“Oh.”

“What did you want to ask me?”

“What if the person you fell in love with was willing to risk herself to give you that experience for however long it lasted?”

He groans. “Dee… You’re lovely and sweet and so sexy. You make me want you just by walking into the room. But I could never do that to you.”

I’m trying hard not to cry. “What if I wanted you to?”

“Sweetheart… If it were going to be anyone, I’d want it to be you.”

“Let it be me.”

His low moan travels through my body like a live wire. “Dee…”

“Wyatt. Let it be me.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve already been through an awful breakup and—”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“He never made me feel the way you do.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it. I was with him for six years, and after the first night I spent with you, I knew I’d wasted all that time with the wrong guy.”

“Stop.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I thought about you constantly after that night.”

“I thought about you, too.”

“Did you come back for me?”

“Of course not. I came back for the job.”

“Are you lying?”

His laughter makes my heart flutter with excitement and anticipation of seeing him again as soon as possible.

“Fall in love with me, Wyatt.” I have no idea where the courage to say these things out loud is coming from. All I know is that nothing has ever felt so right.

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re upset about Marcus.”

“I’m not thinking about him. I’m thinking about you and how I feel when you look at me the way you do and when you kiss me and touch me. I want more of that, more of you, more of us, for as long as it lasts.”

“Dee…”

“Yes, Wyatt?”

“How’re you so calm when I feel like I’m having a heart attack over here?”

That has me sitting up straighter. “Do you? Really?”

“The best kind of heart attack.”

“I wish you were still here with me.”

“So do I. You have no idea how much I wish that.”

“Could I come to get you?”

“I should say no. We should never see each other again.”

“Let me come get you. Let’s spend every minute we can together.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll fall the rest of the way in love with you.”

“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want that. I want you. After everything you went through to have that heart, I want you to know how it feels to lose it to someone else.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’ll hurt me if you say no. Can I come to get you?”

After a long pause, he says, “Yes. Come get me.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour. And, Wyatt?”

“Yes, Dee?”

“You won’t regret this.”

“I know I won’t. I’m just worried that you will.”

“No chance of that. See you soon.”