Page 142 of Billion Dollar Mistake

“Better than I should be.”

He shakes his head. “The accident wasn’t your fault. I’m not here to blame you for this. This is an adult conversation between us.”

“Mm,” I reply, so he knows I’m listening.

“You know I’m sick. And I won’t be around forever. So, I need to make sure she’s with someone who is going to be there through thick and thin.”

“I will, sir.”

He shuffles forward in his chair, hands on his knees. “I’m at a point in my life where I need to make sure you’re going to be there for my daughter in the bad times and good. So if this isn’t what you want, I need you to let her go.”

This is the moment where the father lays down the law and wants to make sure I’m not going to hurt his daughter's heart.

Fuck. I don’t plan to. Her being gone from my life for a few days almost killed me.

“I promise you she’s it for me. I need her in my life. I’ll give up work, money, anything.” I throw my hands up in the air. “All of it just to have her.”

His lips part. “You don’t need to do that. You just need to show her that you’ve got her back. That you’ll be there when I’m gone.”

My throat constricts. I hate hearing him talk about him dying. He isn’t, not now.

“I don’t plan to leave her side ever.” Again.

“Good.” He grabs my shoulder and squeezes it. “You’re good for her. I like you. Now we will give you some time alone with her.”

No. My fear says.

“Thanks.” My heart answers.

“She’s been waiting for you.”

At those words, one fat tear rolls down my cheek.

Chapter 34

Jeremy

I wheel closer to her bed, my gaze fixed on Nova.

Her frail body looks so helpless right now. The door gently closes behind me, leaving only Nova and me in the room.

“Baby,” I murmur, lifting her hand and cradling it in mine, carefully avoiding the IV attached on the back of her hand. I recall the moments when, holding her hand, she would interlace her fingers with mine. Now, she remains unresponsive.

Not having her touch is agonizing and the weight of regret settles heavily on me.

“I’m so sorry.”

I look around at all the machines beeping and making all different noises. Medicine dripping into her vein. That's what’s keeping her in an induced coma.

How long will she stay like this?

“I hope you can hear me speak.” I sigh.

My thumb follows the bumps in her knuckles. I feel so helpless. What can I do to fix this?

“I wish you’d wake up and talk to me. I need to tell you something I should’ve said ages ago.”

Why do we wait until something happens before we realize we should have said something, but we didn’t?

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