Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108650 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I bristled at the mention of that dark time, and the way Neil had framed it as though I’d somehow burdened him during it. “I’m sorry, I’d just become a parent overnight. I didn’t even get a chance to read a baby book. I was caring for Olivia and putting her needs first, the way I was supposed to.”
“No. That’s not what being a parent is.” He shook his head, frowning as he corrected his own statement. “All right, yes, it is. In part. But if you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of anybody else. What you’re doing is ignoring your own needs to worry about the needs of others. People you just met this week.”
“It doesn’t matter when I met them. They’re family,” I insisted.
“Would they do the same for you?” he asked.
The question hit me hard. So hard that it impacted me physically. I dropped onto the couch, tears springing to my eyes. I wanted to be furious at Neil for asking the question, but he wasn’t the one who’d hurt me. It was the truth that had wounded me.
“Oh, Sophie.” Neil got up and came to sit beside me. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s fine.” It wasn’t. “You weren’t trying to hurt me. And you’re right. I don’t know if they would do the same for me. But that’s not the point.”
“Then, what is?” he asked, the lines of concern never leaving his face.
“The point is, I would feel wrong if I didn’t help. And I would feel…incomplete. I know I’m only doing this because of my messed-up feelings about my father. But that’s for me. If I want to keep that, or do something that makes me feel better about that, then that’s my choice.” I couldn’t expect him to understand, but I could trust him to respect my feelings.
“Those aren’t the worst motives I’ve ever heard. Or had for my own actions.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry. I went a bit overboard. I know you’ll do the responsible thing and see your doctor when we return to New York. And I know that I’m overbearing and overprotective in a way that husbands should not be over their wives.”
“Or any human being,” I added for him.
“That, too,” he agreed reluctantly. “But it’s not entirely selfish. Yes, I need you, more than I probably should. But more than anything, I want you to put yourself first when it matters. I want you to care for yourself the way you deserve to be cared for. Especially when I can’t.”
“Because I won’t let you,” I added dryly.
He grinned. “I didn’t say it.”
“You might as well have.” I heard my text alert ping from the next room. “Hang on.”
I went to my phone, dreading with every step exactly what I knew I would find waiting. It was from Susan. I opened the message and braced myself.
Just got out of appointment. Headed back to hotel. Mom and Molly want to talk.
What did that mean? Did they want to talk to me, or did they want to talk to each other?
I texted back, Talk to me?
I waited a long, long time for the response, which was just, yes.
Text when you get here. We can meet in the lobby. I tossed my phone across the bed. I should have started making myself presentable, but I just stood there, questions piling upon questions and drowning out any reasonable possible answers. It was like I’d just gotten pulled into a conference room by some cosmic HR person, and I didn’t know if something was misspelled on my W2 or I was being let go.
Let go? That was the worst word choice my brain could have landed on. Because I feared that this might actually be the end of the line. The kidney was probably the only connection I would ever have to them. Now, that connection was gone.
Eventually, I made my body move. I put on jeans and a clean shirt and headed down to the lobby, because pacing the suite wasn’t doing me any favors. Neil stayed behind at my request, and he didn’t argue, which I appreciated. Despite his occasionally paternalistic behavior toward me, he did trust me to handle some things on my own.
My text notification pinged while I was in the elevator, so I wasn’t surprised when I stepped off to spot Sasha and Molly in the sitting area.
I lifted my hand in a half-hearted wave then slid my hands into my pockets as I approached. “Hey.”
“Hi, Sophie,” Sasha said. Molly just looked glumly at the floor.
I sat in the uncomfortable armchair across from her and leaned down, futilely trying to catch her eye. “I’m so sorry, Molly. If I’d had any idea that I couldn’t donate—”
“It’s all right.” Sasha didn’t sound disappointed or sad. Just exhausted.