Page 7 of Silver Lining Love

I handed her my license and checked my phone to make sure that Whitney hadn’t tried to call me while I was parking. She hadn’t.

“Third floor. You’re going to take a right after you get off the elevator. You’ll see signs for the family room. That’s where she should be.”

I nodded and followed the directions.

When I opened the door to the waiting room, I saw Whitney standing in the corner, speaking to a doctor in a white coat. Her face was the same color as his coat, and she was shaking her head back and forth.

“No, that’s not…she can’t be…”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Foster. We did everything we could.”

Fuck.My stomach dropped as I rushed to her side. When she saw me standing beside her, she crumbled into my arms.

“She’s gone. He’s gone. They’re both gone,” she cried against my chest.

I looked up at the doctor. His expression confirmed what she’d said.

My arms wrapped around her as she sobbed into my shoulder. And then, I did what I’d told myself not to do in the car, I promised her that it would be okay. Not once, not twice, but over and over again. I repeated a promise I had no business making. I don’t know how much time passed; it could have been minutes or hours, but the next thing I knew, a nurse walked in and touched Whitney’s arm.

“I can take you back to see her, to say goodbye… if you want.”

Whitney inhaled a shaky breath and nodded as she followed the woman out of the room. Before the door closed, she looked back at me. “You’re not going to leave, right?”

“No. I’m not going to leave.”

I’ll never leave you.

This time the thought didn’t take me by surprise. I knew that it was a fact. I would never leave her.

3

WHITNEY

“Not all heroes wear capes.” ~ Gamma Mary

6 MONTHS LATER (Present Day)

My chest tightenedas the walls around me closed in.

Breathe, I told myself.

I just needed to concentrate on my breaths.

One, two, three, four,I counted as I inhaled.

One, two, three, four,I counted as I exhaled.

I filled the pan with water and tried to hold the nervous breakdown that I’d been on the brink of having every second of every day for the past six months at bay. One day, I would give into my emotional crisis and let myself feel all the feelings that I needed to feel.

“But today is not that day,” I whispered beneath my breath as I set the pan on the front burner of the stove and switched on the heat.

I looked at the time. It was five o’clock in the evening. I had two hours before bath time. After that, there were stories to be read, glasses of water to get, excuses for not wanting to go to sleep to be had and getting Benji down after his final bottle of the day. The entire bedtime process for three kids took roughly two hours.

Four more hours. I just needed to make it until nine, and then I could have a glass of wine and cry. That was what I looked forward to in my days now—getting to have a glass of wine and crying…alone.

But first, there were things to do. I ran the checklist through my head and I grabbed the noodles and spaghetti sauce from the cabinet as my mind raced.

Dinner. Dishes. Laundry. Homework.

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