Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
And I should probably have the number of the funeral home she picked ready, just in case she doesn’t wake up at all…
“Hang in there, you two,” Elaina says, backing away. “We’re going to get through this together. Like the doctor said, this is a great hospital. Mount Sinai has a wonderful reputation, and I have faith that Margaret is going to get the care she needs to make a full recovery.”
Mount Sinai…
Something clicks in my brain, cutting through the fog of panic and pain.
Did I ever tell Elaina that Mom was at Mount Sinai? I mentally replay the moment when Katie called, the few words I spoke before hanging up…
I would bet a few million that I didn’t say which hospital, but when we got in the cab, Elaina just…knew.
She knew.
How the hell did she know?
I look up sharply, but she’s already walking away.
I try to tell myself that I’m being crazy, that there’s no way Elaina could have known about this. Even if for some insane reason, my mother decided to share her surgery plan with my fiancée instead of her own child, Elaina would have told me.
She absolutely would have…right?
I press my palms against my thighs, fighting the urge to go after her, to demand answers. But I can’t move.
Can’t breathe.
Can’t do anything but sit here wondering how many other secrets she’s keeping and if my mother is going to live to explain why she felt compelled to cut me out of her life at the eleventh hour.
eighteen
ELAINA
I’m a liar, a horrible, monstrous, boyfriend-betraying liar!
No, you’re not! You were keeping a promise to a dying woman. Hunter can’t fault you for that. Just explain what happened. He’ll understand.
“No, he won’t,” I mutter as I hurry through the cafeteria toward the outdoor patio on the other side.
I sure as hell wouldn’t. If my mother had told Maya that she was getting experimental surgery, and Maya had neglected to share that news with me until my mother was in a coma, I would have lost my shit on her. And we’ve been best friends since we were practically fetuses.
Hunter is never going to understand. His mother is the only person in the world who really matters to him. For me to come between them, to damage that bond in a way they might never be able to repair…
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I push through the doors onto the steamy, hot, but mercifully empty patio. Even the smokers have abandoned their usual posts in the late afternoon summer swelter, leaving me alone with my guilt and the cell clutched in my trembling hand.
I have to talk this through with someone I trust before I completely spiral.
But who? Sully is somewhere in Asia on a trip with Weaver, and I don’t have the bandwidth to figure out time zones right now. Besides, no matter what time it is in Korea or Japan, Weaver would be right beside her, and I can’t afford to let one of Hunter’s best friends learn the truth about what I’ve done before he does.
Sydney always gives great advice, but she’s in the middle of some crazy stuff at work—that’s why we’re meeting for coffee tomorrow instead of drinks today to rehash all the details of my pitch meeting. Grace is a solid option—we’ve been texting more than ever since I moved to New York—but as much as I love Grace, she’s not part of the old guard. Our friendship is still fairly new, and I’m afraid she might pull punches that should be delivered straight to my solar plexus.
I need someone who’s going to be straight with me, even if it hurts.
Which leaves Maya.
Maya, my oldest friend, one of the sweetest people I know, and a disturbingly frank giver of feedback when a situation calls for brutal honesty. She’ll tell me if I’ve fucked up beyond repair.
All I have to do is muster up the gumption to confess my sins…
My thumb hovers over her contact for a moment before I screw my courage to the sticking point and hit call.
“Well, hello there, stranger,” Maya answers on the second ring. “I was just having a treat and thinking about you. How’s the pastry class going? I know it’s a French pastry-baking intensive, but I’ve been praying that you’ll learn how to make these medialuna things I’ve been buying at the Argentinian bakery. They are so delicious, Elaina. Like a normal croissant, but with more butter and sugar and deliciously wicked secrets inside.” She makes a happy sighing sound. “This one has a dulce de leche center. And it’s homemade, I can tell.”
“Sounds amazing. I’ll have to see what I can do.” A smile trembles on my lips for a moment. As miserable as I am, it’s good to hear her voice. “But sadly, I’m not calling with a pastry update. I…” My voice catches.