What We Choose novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Since the Biopsy
Minutes after the oncologist books her chemo, Dessa's fiancé confesses an affair with his colleague, so she makes him drive her to the colleague's ribbon-cutting and tells the whole town, and the man holding the scissors says the colleague is his wife.
"I slept with Sienna."
Nash said it to the steering wheel.
We were still parked on level three of the cancer center garage.
My planner was open on my knees, and I had just finished circling twelve Tuesdays in red.
Ten minutes earlier, a scheduler with a cardigan and a kind voice had read me my next six months.
Port first. Chemo every Tuesday for twelve weeks. Both breasts off the week after Christmas. Drains. Radiation, five days a week, four to six weeks.
I'd written it all down.
Nash had stared at the wall the whole time.
I thought he was scared.
"Sienna," I said. "From work."
Sienna was the woman he mentioned at dinner three times a week. Sienna thinks the harbor project is genius. Sienna got me a better parking spot. Sienna's just a colleague, Dess.
My red pen was still uncapped in my hand.
"How long?"
He rubbed his face with both hands.
"It started the day you had your biopsy."
I looked down at the planner.
August third was two pages back. I'd drawn a little needle next to it, as a joke, because I was trying to be brave.
He'd had a site meeting that day.
I'd driven myself.
"You were with her," I said. "While they were putting a needle in me."
"Dessa, I was so scared." The words came out of him fast now, like he'd practiced them. "Your mom, and then you, and I couldn't breathe. Sienna let me breathe. Just for a second. She listened."
"I listened," I said. "I've listened to you every night for two years."
"That's not what I mean."
"Did you tell her about my cancer?"
He went quiet for so long that a car alarm two rows over started and stopped.
"Yes."
Something cold went down my back and kept going.
"Did you two laugh about it?" I asked. "The bald girlfriend? The one who won't have any boobs by New Year's?"
"No!" It was too loud for the car. "No. God, Dessa, I love you. I would never..."
"You love me."
A noise came out of me that wasn't a laugh and wasn't crying.
"And you slept with her."
He didn't say anything.
He looked at the dashboard clock instead.
5:21.
That was when I understood why he'd been tapping his knee through the whole consult.
Bayline was cutting the ribbon on the Wharf Lofts at six.
His project. His big night. The whole town would be on the plaza.
So would Sienna. She ran community relations. She'd be holding the microphone.
"You were going to make the ribbon-cutting," I said.
"Dess."
"You were going to drive me home, drop me off with my pamphlets, and go stand next to her."
"I was going to tell you after."
"You did tell me after. You told me after the oncologist."
I looked at my left hand.
His grandmother's ring. One carat. He'd put it on me in my dorm room the week before graduation, and three months later I'd packed up my whole life and followed him to Larkhaven.
My mom used to say a woman should know where every dollar and every promise went.
She'd died of this same cancer when I was fifteen.
I twisted the ring off.
It came easily. I'd lost five pounds since July.
I put it in the cup holder next to his iced coffee.
"Drive," I said.
He blinked at me. "Home?"
"The Wharf Lofts. You don't want to be late."
"Dessa, you're upset. You just got..."
"I know what I just got. I have it in writing." I tapped the planner. "Drive, Nash."
He drove.
Forty minutes up the coast, and neither of us said a word.
The plaza was strung with white lights.
There was a jazz trio, a table of champagne flutes and half of Larkhaven in boat shoes.
A wide blue ribbon hung across the new building's glass doors.
Nash parked crooked and reached for my arm.
I got out before he could touch me.
A woman I'd met once at the yacht club came straight at me with her hands out.
"Oh, honey."
She squeezed my forearm.
"I'm so sorry about the cancer. We're all praying for you. Nash has been so brave."
I hadn't told her.
I hadn't told anyone in this town. Not even his mother.
Behind her, two more women gave me the same soft, tragic look.
They all knew.
Up on the little stage, a tall blonde in white jeans laughed into a microphone.
"Thank you all for coming! Bayline loves Larkhaven, and Larkhaven loves us back!"
Sienna.
I knew her from the company website and from one Christmas party where she'd called me sweet.
She saw Nash first.
Her smile got brighter.
Then she saw me, and it didn't change at all.
I walked through the crowd.
People moved for me. The sick girl. Poor thing.
Nash said my name behind me twice.
I went up the three steps to the stage.
Sienna held the microphone toward her chest.
"Dessa! Sweetheart, you shouldn't be on your feet."
"Who told you I was sick?"
She tilted her head. "Everyone's just so worried about you."
I took the microphone out of her hand.
The jazz trio stopped.
"Hi," I said. "Most of you know my name, because Nash told Sienna my diagnosis, and Sienna told all of you."
A ripple went through the plaza.
"Here's the rest of it. Nash has been sleeping with her since the day of my biopsy."
Somebody's champagne glass hit the paving stones.
Nash was at the bottom of the steps, white as the ribbon's bow.
Sienna laughed. It was a light, pretty laugh, the one she'd used for the Christmas party.
"Oh, honey." She turned to the crowd and put her hand on her heart. "She's had such a terrible week. The medication, the shock. We understand. Nobody's angry."
"I haven't started any medication," I said into the mic.
At the end of the stage stood a big man in a gray suit, holding a pair of giant ceremonial scissors.
He hadn't laughed. He hadn't moved at all.
He looked like the only person here who was actually in charge of something.
So I turned to him.
"Are you the boss?"
He looked at me with steady gray eyes.
"I am."
"Then you should know your community relations director is sleeping with your project manager."
The whole plaza went silent.
The big man lowered the scissors.
He didn't look at Nash.
He looked at Sienna.
"Sienna's my wife," he said.
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