The Billionaire Throuple

Andreas Santiago [Part 5]

PART V: TIL DEATH DO US PART
[One Month Later]

My health has been on a constant downturn. Each week, my world keeps getting smaller. I haven't left the house since my family dinner three weeks back, I haven't been upstairs for two, I've been stuck in the guestroom for one and now I don't bother getting out of bed.

The doctors weren't lying when they said my heart condition is progressive. It's been a rough ride watching my own body turn against me. I know I should be in a hospital, but that's not where I want to close my eyes for the last time. There's no place I'd rather spend my last days than here with Sam. I want his face—his smile—to be the last one I see.

He spends every waking moment with me. Even though that's not more than four or five hours of laying in bed, face-to-face, I'd never ask for more. I have every detail of his face memorized, down to the spots where fuzz won't ever grow on his smooth jawline to how his skin folds when he changes expression.

I love Sam so much and I'm scared of leaving him, but I need to. He's stopped leaving the house to make sure I won't die alone. It's not fair to keep his life on pause like this. While he won't admit that's the reason, there's nothing else it could be. I'm not saying he's given up on a heart transplant, but he's smart enough to be prepared for when that doesn't happen. I've come to terms with it, so the transplant doesn't matter anymore. My only concern is making my last days count, to go out the right way, getting right with everyone, making sure all the people who matter know that I love them.

I press the call button on the edge of the bed. I don't need anything, but I promised Sam I'd let him know whenever I wake up. He wants to spend every moment he can with me and I want that too. The only time I hold off is to make my last phone calls. It's not that I don't trust him, I don't want to put him through the pain of watching me as I prepare to let go. I promised him I wouldn't stop fighting and I won't, but there aren't many downturns in health left between here and death.

I don't have any more calls to make. I've been through all the tough ones with family and old friends, even Philippe. The last person I need to talk to is Nemo. I sent him a text message begging him to come over. I want to talk to him in person. After how long I've been hiding my condition from him, I owe him that much

I wanted to tell him before I started making calls, but he hasn't been around for the past week or so. I'm not sure why, but if he came over, I wouldn't have to tell him. I'm well beyond the point of hiding my condition.

It's possible that Nemo knows and it's why he's staying away. I'll give him until the end of the day before I leave a voicemail. While it'd hurt to find out he's waiting for me to die, I couldn't blame him. It's up to him how or if he wants to remember me. I won't be around to hold a grudge and I can't deny that I'm depressing to look at. I can't say more than a few sentences without stopping to catch my breath and everything below my heart is swollen.

My bloated belly bothered me the most until my legs swelled to the point where it hurts to think about getting out of bed. I can walk and I'd try to if a fire broke out, but I'd probably die of a heart attack before I made it out.

Sam comes sprinting through the guestroom door and stops a foot away from the bed. He sets a large manila envelope down on the end table and carefully lays down beside me. He kisses my forehead and slides his hands up and down my body, gently caressing me. His unconditional, loving touch could bring me to tears, but I hold back for his sake.

There's nothing more important to me than him remembering how happy he's made me. I am happy. The tears I'm not shedding would be happy tears. I love that he still wants to touch me even when my own body disgusts me.