He cups my breast with his palm.
"They're fake."
His brow furrows.
"It's obvious if I take my bra off."
He stares at me like I'm crazy. "You're not the type."
I know.
Epiphany fills his expression.
He understands.
I say it anyways. "I had a double mastectomy."
"You had breast cancer?"
I nod.
"When?"
"Two years ago. That was when it started. It's been a year since I finished treatment. I guess… I guess this is my anniversary."
"That story about your mom?"
"That was true. Just… also true about me."
"Are you okay?"
"Probably. But there's a chance." I swallow hard. "It happens. Even with the preventative treatment."
"Fuck." Something fills his eyes but it's not fear, or pity, or need.
It's sympathy.
"Do me a favor, sunshine. Fill the glass and hand me the bottle."
It takes a bit of maneuvering to do it without climbing out of his lap, but I manage.
He wraps his hands around the bottle.
I hold up the glass. "What are we toasting to?"
"Don't know. Just know we need another round after that."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dean
My throat burns. It's wrong drinking good whiskey this fast.
It's a bad idea, drinking at all.
This conversation is too serious for it.
The trust in Chloe's eyes is too intense for it.