Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Grayson blushed. While he loved talking about Reid, talking about their sex life was a bit awkward for him. He wanted to respect her privacy, which Dr. Littleton understood. But Grayson grasped that the questions weren’t invasive, only meant for healing and processing the ordeal he’d been through.
“Reid’s amazing,” he said. “We met with the wedding planner and tasted some cakes the other day. I never knew I was a ‘white cake with raspberry filling’ type of guy, but I am. We talked about the whole ‘cake smashing in the face’ thing, and I told her I thought it’s a bit disrespectful and I didn’t want to do it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because she will have spent so much time perfecting her look for the day; I don’t want to ruin it because someone along the way thought smearing cake on your bride’s face would be a funny tradition. It’s rude.”
“How did she feel?”
“Grateful. She thanked me, which she didn’t need to do, but I get it.” Grayson ran his hand down the front of his pants. “I love her, with this heart, my other heart.” He shrugged. “But sometimes I look at her and . . .”
“And?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind she’s the one for me. But when my heart aches, it makes me question whether I should even be here right now. Someone died so I could live, and what if I’m not living up to their potential? What if they were this amazing person who walked grandmas across the street, who donated time at the soup kitchen or the clothing drive. What if my heart is telling me I’m failing at being the person it was intended for?”
Dr. Littleton stood and went to his desk. He typed on the computer, strummed his fingers on his desk, and then nodded.
“This is going to sound off, but listen to what I have to say,” he told Grayson. “There is zero scientific proof that organs can change your personality, memories, or how you feel. However, it seems to me that your very healthy heart is experiencing some emotions you’re unfamiliar with, right?”
Grayson nodded.
“When you’re with Reid, what do you feel?”
“Elation, happiness, gratitude, satisfaction,” he told the doctor. “Love, desire, like I want to be with her all the time. Everything I denied myself in the beginning, it’s still there and stronger. But sometimes, when the ache is strong, I question what’s missing, because I feel like something is definitely missing from my life right now.”
Dr. Littleton came back to his chair. “I think what you’re experiencing is referred to as cellular memory. Many doctors disagree this even exists, as research is limited.”
“What is it?”
“Cellular memory allows your body to remember how to fight diseases. In terms of an organ, in this case, your heart, it had to remember how to function in a new cavity. The transplant team made sure you had a normal heart rhythm and blood flow. However, some scientists have taken cellular memory to also mean that donors’ memories, feelings, likes, and dislikes are stored in those cells and then remembered by the recipient.”
“In my terms, please?”
Dr. Littleton laughed. “In a nutshell, you could be experiencing memories from the donor.”
Grayson let the statement germinate. He didn’t think it was possible, but then again, he wasn’t a doctor, and what Dr. Littleton had said sort of made sense. If that was the case, would someone who drank beer and received a new liver suddenly stop? Could his heart hold memories and feelings of its life before the transplant?
Nah, Grayson wasn’t buying it. What Dr. Littleton said didn’t make sense. There was no way an organ could remember emotions. Something else had to be going on.
That night, when he and Reid crawled into bed, they lay on their sides, looking at each other, with only the moon beaming its bright stream of light through their window.
“Are you okay?” Reid asked. She ran her hand through his hair. He kissed her palm and then held her hand against his heart. It thumped wildly, passionately for her.
“Ever since the summer, there are times when I’m incredibly sad sometimes,” he started. “I’ve woken up from dreams I don’t remember, crying. And my heart.” He covered her hand with his. “It aches sometimes.”
“Have you talked to your doctor?”
He nodded and then spoke his reply. “I’ve passed every test,” he said. “Every image shows a reactive, healthy heart.”
“Are you having second thoughts about us?” she asked, with a hint of sadness in her voice. Grayson leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.
“Not even remotely.”
“Okay. Then what is it?”
He moved closer to her, closing the gap between them. He needed to feel her presence, to be in her space and share in the natural calmness she carried with her.
“I don’t know,” he told her. “I saw Dr. Littleton today. He suggested that maybe the heart is remembering the donor, and that’s what I’m feeling.”