Page 146 of A Temporary Forever

Fuck, I love this woman. The idea of losing her burns like acid in my stomach. Our unresolved conversation from the kitchen hangs above me like a sword of Damocles.

But my attention needs to be elsewhere. On another beautiful person who I grew to love without even realizing.

I sit beside Mia. “Your mom will be okay. She’s sleeping right now, but they’ll let you see her soon.” I pull her to me and kiss the top of her head.

Her breath hitches with unshed tears. “Will you stay?” The vulnerability in her voice punches me in my stomach.

“Of course.”

“Mia!” A woman’s voice rings through the air, and my daughter shoves her empty cup into my hand and rushes over to the newcomer.

She’s about my age, wearing a blue MTA shirt, and Mia wraps her arms around her similarly to what she did earlier with me. I guess I’m about to meet the aunt.

I stand, dunking my cup into a bin, and approach them gingerly. The woman frowns at me from above Mia’s head.

“I called my dad.” Mia turns her head to meet my eyes.

In a beat of silence, the air between us fills with my uncertainty, and by the look of it, a lack of trust on the aunt’s part. Reese’s sister glares at me.

“Caleb van den Linden.” I extend my hand.

She shakes it. Thank God for that. Today has brought enough drama. “Greta Morgan, I’m Reese’s sister. Reese didn’t tell me you were in touch.”

“Mom didn’t know,” Mia says quickly, and then covers her mouth like she could shove the words back inside. “I-I… Am I in trouble?”

“Of course not,” I say.

“Little bit,” Greta says at the same time.

I sigh, and Mia looks at me with so much remorse and anxiety on her face I want to wage a war to makeher feel better. At this rate, I’d obliterate half of Manhattan with all the shit happening.

“Are you mad at me?” Mia looks down.

For the first time since Mia’s call earlier, I’m sure of something, at least. “I’m not mad at you at all.”

Her shoulders relax visibly, and it spreads an unreasonable wave of relief through my chest. It’s lost in a sea of worry and unanswered questions, but it’s there.

“Where is Reese?” Greta asks.

“Sleeping at the moment. We can see her in about an hour, when they move her from the ICU.”

“Mia, can you wait while I talk to Caleb?” Greta’s voice leaves no room for argument.

“I’ll stay with her.” Celeste joins us.

God, I’m grateful she’s here with us.

Not only is she somehow present at every right moment, but she’s not intruding. The silent support I never knew I needed. All while tomorrow’s interview is hanging over our heads.

“This is my wife, Celeste.” I introduce her to Greta.

As someone who never believed in marriage, the pride those words carry shocks me. But this is not about being married.

This feeling spreads to every corner of my cynical heart and mind, because I’m married to this woman.

Celeste leads Mia back to our seats, and Greta and I find a quiet waiting room that’s empty, by some sheer stroke of luck.

“Reese is a good mother,” Greta hurls at me the minute the door closes behind us.

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