Love Me Like This: The Morrisons Page 11

  She wanted to beg him to take her somewhere private where they could finish what he was starting. Instead, she forced herself to say, “What kind of information did they ask for during the evaluation?”

  With obvious reluctance, he drew back. “I met my independent donor advocate, and we talked through my physical, mental, and emotional well-being.”

  “Did you tell your advocate that we’re together?”

  “I sure as hell did. I told her I love you, that I’ve always loved you, and that I would do anything for you.”

  It was one thing to hear him say those words to her and only her, but to know that he’d said them to a stranger was overwhelming. “Did you also tell her—” God, she hated to ask this, but she had to know just how forthright he’d been with the counselor who would be instrumental in helping him decide whether to actually go through with donating a kidney if they were a match. “About your mother?”

  “I did.” Grief flashed in his eyes for a split second before he said, “I told her I would have done anything to save my mom and that I’ve been working like hell for the past five years to come up with a cure.”

  “Did she think that maybe there was some kind of…transference going on? With me?” She fumbled for the right words, not at all convinced that she had them. “That maybe because you couldn’t save your mom then, you’ll do anything to save me now, even if it means putting yourself in danger?”

  “Taylor.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll never stop missing my mom, but even if I had been able to save her, I would still want to do this for you. With you. Which is why I passed the evaluation with flying colors—and the physical they gave me too. We’ve already moved on to the informed-consent part.”

  She knew what informed consent was all about, where they made sure donors fully understood the risks and benefits of being a donor, how it could affect their lives both now and in the future, and that they could delay or stop the process at any time, even on the day of surgery, if need be.

  “The good news,” he continued, “is that there happens to be a donor in Yountville who said she’d be happy to tell her story and answer any questions I’ve got. Instead of just talking on the phone, I’m going to head over to her house to talk in person. It would be good if you came too.”

  “I don’t know.” She really didn’t, could barely tell which way was up anymore. “Maybe it would be best if you went by yourself.”

  “I know you’re still trying to wrap your head around everything,” he said in a gentle voice, “but surely meeting a past donor in person and seeing how well she’s doing—and how happy she is with her decision to donate—will go a long way to helping you let go of some of your concerns.”

  Feeling even more like she was on a runaway train than she had since getting her diagnosis, she said in a slightly desperate tone, “We don’t even know if you’re going to be a match yet.” She was trying not to borrow trouble, but it was so hard…

  “I’ve got this feeling in my gut.” He took her hands and laid them on his chest so that she could feel the beating of his heart. “And here too. I know we’re going to be a match. And when it turns out that I am, my advocate is confident she can fast-track everything. Instead of the process taking up to six months, she’s going to pull out all the stops to get the transplant scheduled ASAP. The only possible holdup would be the final approval from the Human Tissue Authority, which could take a couple of weeks. But as soon as we have that, we’ll be good to go.”

  All her life, Taylor had been swept along by other people’s plans. By their decisions. She couldn’t let that happen again. Especially now, when it wasn’t just her health, her life, her future at stake.

  “Justin, please, you need to slow down.”

  “And just stand by twiddling my thumbs while you get sicker? No way.” He was as passionate as she had ever seen him. “You know as well as I do that the sooner I get all the tests done and confirm my compatibility for the transplant, the sooner you’ll be better.”

  She couldn’t argue with that, but she could point out a different truth. “You didn’t come home to spend all your time and energy on lining up doctors and tests. You were supposed to have this week off from stress, from labs and hospitals, so that you could spend time with your family and enjoy your brother’s wedding. You only have a few more days before you head back to Germany. You should make the most of them with the people you love.”

  He tugged her even closer then, as though he didn’t want anything at all keeping them apart. “That’s exactly what I’m doing—I’m spending my time with the person I love most of all. You. And I’m not going back to Germany. I’m due a break anyway, and like I said yesterday, I can set up a lab here.”

  There was nothing she wanted more than for him to stay here with her. But she couldn’t be selfish. “It will take time to set up a new lab and to find scientists you want to work with. Your research is too important to be stalled like that.” Frustration bubbled up and over. “This is one of the biggest reasons why I didn’t tell you about my diagnosis! Because you have a life. An important one that you can’t give up for me.”

  “Once you’re better, I can turn my attention back to finding a cure for breast cancer. But the fact is that my mother is gone and no amount of research will ever bring her back.” He was as fierce and as frustrated now as she was. “She’s gone, Taylor, but you’re still here. And I’m damn well going to do whatever it takes to make sure you stay that way.”

  She tried to hold back her tears, but with Justin’s arms around her, she couldn’t stop the breakdown. And she knew why—she felt safe with him. Safer than she’d ever felt with anyone else. Safe enough to stop trying to hold herself together every single second and give in to a few seconds of feeling shattered and scared.

  “I wish I just felt one thing, one way, instead of shifting all over the place from second to second,” she said, her words slightly muffled against his chest. “I’m happy. I’m scared. I’m hopeful. I’m guilty.” She lifted her face to look at the man who was her best friend and her lover. “I’m desperate for a donor, but I’m also desperate for that donor not to be you.” She wanted to scream in frustration. “Now that we’ve found each other again, now that we’re finally together, why can’t everything be easier? Why can’t we have just a little bit of happiness without all of this?”

  * * *

  Justin hated to see Taylor cry, even though he knew bottling up her tears would only make her feel worse. Thank God he was here to stroke her hair, to wipe the tears away, to hold her, and to make sure she knew that he was always going to be here for her, no matter what.

  When he’d left the hospital just minutes ago, he’d been so sure, so certain that everything would be okay. He’d felt so positive. But he’d stupidly forgotten that he wasn’t the only one who needed to make decisions about their future.

  Whether she realized it or not, Taylor had always been her own woman, with a strong mind and purpose and sense of right. Sure, he could dig out every trick in the book to try to persuade her to do things his way—and, honestly, at this point, he wasn’t ruling anything out. Not when her health was on the line. But deep in his heart, he knew better.

  He knew the right choice for him. But Taylor needed to make her own decision about what was right for her.

  “I’ve gotten your shirt all wet,” she said as she wiped away the rest of her tears with the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath, she said, “How about we grab a cup of coffee at the Student Union before we head back?”

  There was so much more he wanted to say to her, a dozen additional arguments he had ready to get her to see things his way. But she’d already told him to slow down, and he needed to heed her warning, or risk pushing her away.

  The thought of losing Taylor’s love gutted him, down to the marrow.

  Not yet trusting himself to say anything that wouldn’t put her on the defensive, he simply held her hand as they headed over to the campus café. While t
hey walked in silence, he remembered what the transplant coordinator had told him—that hope, fear, sorrow, and love were at the heart of nearly every organ transplant. The woman had explained how hard this decision could be for people in Taylor’s position, and how Taylor’s biggest fear was likely that he would be harmed during or even recovery.

  He’d listened carefully—at least, he thought he had. But the truth was that when he’d come back outside to Taylor, he’d still been barreling through her life, and her choices, like that bull in the china shop.

  As they ordered then waited for their coffees, he made a silent vow to be more understanding of where she was coming from, even if it wouldn’t change his decision about wanting to be her donor. He’d always respected Taylor’s opinions and her beliefs. He couldn’t use loving her and wanting to help her as an excuse to act differently now.

  She was desperate for some simple happiness. He racked his brain to think of something fun they could do to give them a few hours of respite. No question about it, they needed something to make them laugh and take the pressure off for a little while. Thankfully, that was when his eye caught on a flyer stapled to the announcement board on the opposite wall for the St. Helena Grape Stomp Competition.

  He sent a quick text to his sister, then turned to Taylor once he had Maddie’s reply. “What do you say we do a little grape stomping?”

  Clearly lost in her thoughts, Taylor looked at him in confusion. “Grape stomping?”

  “Yup.” He grinned at her, pointing at the flyer. “There’s a competition in your town this afternoon that’s got our names all over it.”

  “It sounds fun, but I don’t want to take advantage of Maddie’s generosity.”

  “She’s happy to cover for as long as we need her.” He held up his phone so Taylor could see his sister’s reply to his text asking if she could stay a few hours longer. “It’s right here, in her own words—she’s having a fabulous time and baking in your kitchen is just what she needed after a crazy week working in the city.”

  Seeing the spark in Taylor’s eyes, the one that told him she wanted to go stomp some grapes even if she thought she should go back and relieve Maddie of her kitchen duties, he decided now was one of those times when it was good to be a bit of a china-smashing bull. “It won’t take long—and then once we’ve won the big prize, we’ll head straight back to your B&B.”

  “My mother always did think you were a bad influence,” she said, but she was smiling as she said it. A smile full of enough relief that he knew a break from the stress of any further tests or big decisions for an afternoon was exactly the right thing.

  Hopefully, everything else would become equally clear very, very soon.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Taylor couldn’t believe they were about to stomp grapes. Only Justin could have gotten her out here, with her jeans rolled up to her knees and her feet bare.

  They were standing together, her back to his front, his arms wrapped around her waist, as they waited their turn. Ten teams had signed up for the competition. Although there would be several small prizes given out to the groups that squeezed the most juice out of the grapes with their feet, it was obvious that this wasn’t really a competition, but rather a chance for the community to come together to celebrate the vineyards and the wines for which St. Helena was world famous. Several people Taylor had met during the past months had already come by to say hello.

  Today, she didn’t hesitate to let everyone know that Justin was her boyfriend. And not just because he’d told her that he was planning to set up a lab nearby so that he could stay with her in St. Helena. The miles between California and Germany had never truly been the issue. They could have weathered that if they had to. Perhaps someone on the outside looking in would think that their relationship had moved really fast in the past forty-eight hours—from making love to declaring their feelings to making big career and location changes. But they’d had eight years to build to where they were now.

  Eight years of longing. Eight years of secret loving.

  She might be confused and conflicted about plenty of other things in her life, but her feelings for Justin were perfectly, beautifully clear.

  Laughter and hilarity rang out while the first couple made an absolute mess of their barrel of grapes. Resting her head against Justin’s chest, she let herself relax for the first time all day. The song “Stomp Them Grapes” was playing on repeat, while a couple of large-screen TVs had been set up showing the I Love Lucy episode where Lucille Ball made stomping grapes look like the funniest thing in the world.

  Taylor laughed as she watched Lucille Ball go totally crazy in the grape vat—one of the teams competing was actually dressed up as Lucy and the grape stomper—and it felt good to feel “normal” for a little while. The morning’s coolness had given way to a wonderfully warm afternoon, and Taylor loved being able to bask in the sun as she closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sky.

  It would be all too easy to let herself dwell on bad lab reports and blood work, to forget about fun while she spent all of her time weighing difficult decisions. Justin was right. Not only did they need a break from the heaviness of it all, but being here today as a part of her new community served as yet another reminder about the good decisions she had already made to quit her office job in Palo Alto and move to St. Helena.

  “They’ve just called our team name,” Justin said, his breath at her ear sending a delicious shiver through her despite the warmth of the sun. “Are you ready for Team Super Stomp to dominate?”

  She spun into his arms, laughing at the team name he’d come up with as she kissed him. “I love you.” She never wanted him to forget it, didn’t want him to think that her reticence to accept his offer to be her donor meant she didn’t care for him more deeply than she did anyone else. “No matter what.”

  He gazed into her eyes, making her feel as though they were the only people for miles, even in the middle of a big crowd. “No matter what.”

  Hand in hand, they walked over to their barrel, which had already been loaded up with dark purple grapes. “Your goal today,” the volunteer in charge reminded them, “is to extract the most juice out of measured amounts of wine grapes. I’m assuming you will be the stomper?” he said to Taylor, making his guess based on her rolled-up jeans and bare feet. “Please step into the foot wash.” Turning to Justin, he said, “Your job as the swabber will be to stand outside the barrel and catch the juice in this bucket. Don’t hesitate to reach inside the barrel to assist your stomper to ensure a free flow of juice through the screen and out the drain spout. Got it?”

  Justin nodded, the beauty of his grin making Taylor’s heart flip inside her chest.

  She’d been a fool not to tell him about her diagnosis months ago when she’d first found out. And she’d been an even bigger fool to let their friendship slide away after he left Stanford for Germany. She’d never make a mistake like that again. No matter what happened from here on out, she would never take Justin’s friendship, or his love, for granted again.

  What they had, she now understood, was the most rare and precious thing in the world. Something to fight for, against all odds.

  “Stomper,” the volunteer said to her, “please take your position inside the barrel.”

  Justin held on to her hands as she carefully made her way up the stairs and onto the mound of grapes. “It feels so weird,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the strange feel of the fruit already popping apart beneath her feet. She took a step and realized how slippery it was.

  “Your hands go here.” Justin placed them on the side rim of the barrel so that she was leaning over slightly at the waist in his direction. “As long as you keep holding on, you should be steady. But don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

  “I know you won’t,” she said, then bent down a little farther so that they could kiss.

  The volunteer held up a stopwatch. “Five-second countdown. Five, four, three, two, start stomping!”

  Justin
’s kiss had sent so much happiness shooting through her, that the second she was let loose in the barrel, she became a wild stomping machine. Grape skins and dark purple juice flew in every direction, most of it up onto her jeans and T-shirt and the bare skin of her arms, legs, and face—but also onto Justin, who wasn’t at all spared by standing outside the barrel, holding the bucket under the drain spout and cheering her on.

  “No one can stomp grapes the way you can, Taylor!” he yelled. “You’re amazing! You’re unstoppable! You’re a Super Stomper!”

  Though she was majorly out of breath, she couldn’t stop laughing. Stomping grapes was one of the grossest—and most fun—things she had done in a very long time. Grape juice was flowing from the barrel into Justin’s bucket with such speed that he barely had time to put it down and pick up another one before it overflowed. The crowd had gathered around them, and soon, Justin was leading the group in a rousing chorus of “Super Stompers! Super Stompers! Super Stompers!”

  She had nearly run out of steam when the stopwatch dinged again. Still laughing, Justin pulled her out of the barrel and swung her around. He kissed her until she was even more breathless, and when he finally let her go, she stumbled slightly, directly into the path of their two full buckets of grape juice.

  Both buckets knocked into one another, then bumped out in the opposite direction, toppling over before anyone could stop them.

  “Oh no.” She looked at Justin with wide eyes. “I actually thought we might have a chance of winning.”

  “It’s okay.” He hugged her tighter. “We’ve already won the biggest prize of all, don’t you think?”

  He was right. Even when they’d been only friends back in college, she’d already felt like she’d won the lottery. Who else had a best friend so smart and funny and sweet and caring? And now, with love on their side, surely they could triumph over even the most difficult problems. Couldn’t they?