Page 58 of Someone to Watch Over Me

“I can’t get over how much she looks like Jaden.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I love it. I really do. It’s just sort of… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“The other day, Xavier made a face that was all Sadie. It was one of her trademark expressions that just appeared out of nowhere and flattened me for five full minutes. It was the craziest thing.”

“You never mentioned it.”

“You’ve been a little busy, babe.”

“Still, you should’ve told me.”

“It was a good thing. Everyone says he looks like me, but for that brief moment, he was all her, and I loved it once it stopped hurting like a bitch.”

“Yeah, that’s it… I love that she looks like him, but it hurts, too. Makes me miss him even more than I already do. He’d be flipping out over her, and he’dlovethat she looks like him.”

“After seeing some of your Jaden videos, I can almost picture his reactions to her. I’m sure he’d be flat on his face in love with her the way we are.”

“Thank you for loving my little girl.”

“She’s our little girl, and I’ll always love her the way you love Xavier. He’s so happy to have a baby sister.”

“Life is so effed up and crazy and also beautiful and amazing, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. Since you proved to me I have nothing to worry about with you and pregnancy and childbirth, we should have one together.”

I groan as he laughs. “Talk to me about that when I can pee without wanting to scream from the pain.”

“Will do.”

“Look at you, conquering your fears and living your best life.”

“Thanks to you and our babies. Love you so, so much, Wynter.”

“Love you, too, Adrian.”

Lexi

I hatemy job with a fiery passion. It’s so boring! All I do for eight straight hours—with half an hour for lunch—is enter data into spreadsheets. I have no idea what the numbers mean or how the information is used by the organization. They don’t include me in any of the meetings at which they crunch the data I import to make decisions. That’s fine with me because I don’t care what they do with the information.

I don’t even understand the mission of this place. Something about connecting companies with qualified contractors or some such thing.

Whatever. I do my job and collect a much-needed paycheck every two weeks. Other than one woman who’s become a sort-of friend, I barely talk to anyone over the course of a day, which is fine. I’m not looking to make more friends.

My boss, Erika, is nice enough, but I don’t have much contact with her, except by email when she forwards the daily reports from which I gather the data that’s then inputted into the spreadsheets. If I never see another spreadsheet, that’ll be fine with me.

Earbuds are essential to my sanity. I listen to podcasts and music, which help me survive the long days. I think I’ve listened to every grief podcast in existence, which is both helpful and depressing at times. Whatever it takes to pass eight hours of drudgery, even if I’m sobbing at my desk. No one pays any attention to what I do, so I’m free to sob as needed.

I’m three hours into what promises to be another endless day because I’m tired after waking up every few minutes—or so it seemed—to make sure Tom was still breathing. He was fine, but I’m an anxious wreck. Worrying about him has triggered me. I decide to lean into it and let it be what it is until he’s back to full health. After that, if the anxiety is still an issue, I’ll reach out to the therapist who was so instrumental in getting me through Jim’s illness and death. I haven’t seen her in quite some time, which she says is a good thing. It proves I don’t need her the way I once did.

Erika startles me when she suddenly appears in my cubicle. I haven’t seen her in two weeks, so I’m taken aback.

I remove my headphones. “Hi.”

“Hey, Lexi. Could I see you in the office for a minute?”

What the hell? I haven’t been in her office since she interviewed me. “Um, sure.” I save my work, because God forbid I should have to redo any of it and get up to follow her.

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