Page 42 of Sinful Promises

I was ten feet from the bus when he stepped from the luggage hold. He turned to me and froze. His eyes widened and a wash of darkness crossed his irises. Roman strode toward me with his arms out as if ready to give me a hug.

I let go of my suitcase and held up my hand. “Don’t.”

He tilted his head; his jaw fell ajar. “Dais. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t talk to me. And don’t touch me.” I managed to keep my voice at a simmer. I wanted to scream. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. Somehow, I did neither.

His chest rose and fell as he silently stared at me, his eyes pleading. I shoved my case toward him, and with his eyes burning into my back, I climbed the stairs. One glance was enough to know some passengers were missing.

Fucking useless bloody backpackers.

I did a body count, confirmed we were short by nine, and climbed back down the stairs. My phone rang, and thinking it was someone ringing to say they were late, I jabbed the green button. “Hello, this is Daisy.”

“Hello, Daisy.” It was a man’s voice. “I’m Doctor Alberts. Your mother’s doctor.”

A hole the size of a suitcase opened up in my chest. Was I too late? Was she gone? “Oh, God. Is Mom still alive?”

“She is still alive. But I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Gripping the phone to my ear, I charged to behind the bus so no one could see me, and especially not Roman. “Okay. What is it?”

“I’m afraid her cancer has spread into her lymph nodes.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” I didn’t mean to have so much fire in my response. But I didn’t need this now. Not today. Not ever.

“I’m sorry, Daisy, but your mother is very ill. She is incurable.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Your mother is going to die.”

“I already know that. When?”

“It’s impossible to know when, but . . .”

“Please just give me your educated guess.”

“Maybe a month. Two at the most.”

A boulder dropped in my stomach. Tears spilled down my cheeks. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Squeezing my eyes shut, I sniffed back my emotion. “Okay, Doctor?—”

“Alberts.”

“Doctor Alberts. Thank you for telling me.”

“Do you want to talk to your mom?”

I opened my eyes and Roman was right there. The distress on his face tore my already broken heart to shreds. I turned my back to him and clenched my teeth.

“Daisy, are you there?” The doctor’s escalated voice confirmed he’d feared I’d gone.

“Yes.”

“I asked if you wanted to talk?—”

“No. No, thank you. Not right now. Tell her . . . tell her I will phone as soon as I can. I appreciate your call.” I hung up the phone and flicked away my tears. It took all my might to spin around to Roman.

“Hey, is your mother okay?”

“No, Roman. She’s not. She’s dying.”

He cocked his head and reached out with his hand.

---