Page 101 of Interpreter

I’m pacing behind the office door. Both of my boys have been in there for thirty minutes now.

“Should it be taking this long?” I ask Anniston, who seems relaxed in this highly stressful situation.

“Calm down, Mami.” I shrug Felipe off. I can’t calm down, and he shouldn’t be telling me to. If Marcus was in this same situation, we would all have to sit on him to keep him from rushing through the door.

“Do you think it worked?” I ask no one and everyone. Please, God, let it have worked.

“Mija! What’s going on?” My mom’s voice startles me so much that I drop the phone. “Sorry, Mami. I totally forgot you were on Skype.”

Shit. Did I call her, or did she call me? Have mercy, I am losing my damn mind staring at thecloseddoor!Open it!I pick up the phone and hand it to Felipe. I am not the one who should be updating my mom. All I want to do is barrel through that door and grab my boys in a bruising hug. I don’t care if Tim ever hears a single sound again. None of it matters to me. It didn’t months ago, and it sure doesn’t now.

“Anniston,” I plead. “Will you bang on the door and demand they let us in? It’s been half an hour!”

I’m getting desperate if I am asking Tim’s commander to demand answers. No one fucks with her, and if she wanted to get in that door, she, or the men at her side, would make it happen. Instead she gives me a patient smile. “He’ll let us in when he’s ready.”

I don’t give one flying shit if he’s ready. I’m ready to hug him—to kiss him stupid for locking me out of this epic moment.

“I think I’m going to lose it. Pe, do you have your flask on you?”

“Mija!” my mom scolds from thousands of miles away. “Be patient.”

Be patient. Easy for her to say. She didn’t see this man struggle. She didn’t hear the words he spoke about his mother going through this same experience and coming out no better than when she went in. Unlike his mother, Tim isn’t alone. He has a waiting room full of family waiting to rejoice or cry with him. And our little boy is in there, hopefully strong and resilient, just like he’s always been.

Tim hasn’t been able to stay away from Oliver for a minute. Their bond has only grown stronger. Sometimes I’m a little jealous, but then they make fun of me and make sure to include me in some of their things and all is right with the world.

The door creaks open and I leap, only rolling my ankle just a little to get my fingers on the open door. “Whoa there,” says the smart-ass at the door. And they say doctors have no personality. “He’s ready to see you, Milah.”

Oh God. That doesn’t sound good. That sounds like he had to work up the courage and cry it out before he could face me.

I root around in my purse for the tissues I stashed. “Okay.” I take a deep breath. I wonder if Anniston would think it’s weird if I asked her and Pe to hold my hands. Yeah, it totally would be, and then Tim would know that I’m not handling this well, and then he won’t handle it well.

OMG. Stop, Milah. Stop. Breathe and put one new shoe in front of the other.

I nod at the doctor who is partly responsible for my impending meltdown. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

His eyebrows arch like he isn’t so sure, but he opens the door wide until I see that super stubborn man of mine with his head bent and both hands covering the headphones over his ears. I hear Anniston gasp behind me just as I notice Oliver rubbing Tim’s back in soothing circles.

It didn’t work. The look on his face is clear. His eyes are swollen, and his body sways back and forth as if he’s self-soothing. I rush past the doctor, forgetting my mom hollering on the phone. Felipe can deal with her. My only goal—apart from not slipping on this tile—is getting to my man in 2.2 seconds. I get to Oliver first, tucking him into my side and moving toward his hero, who still won’t look at me.

I stroke his back, staying quiet as the door closes with a soft click.

“Milah,” Dr. Callahan says, “why don’t you take a seat over there.”

I’d rather not. Something is going on with my man, and I want to be right here, within arm’s reach. But Oliver tugs me away as Dr. Callahan turns a knob on Tim’s headphones.

Why does he need headphones? I go to ask that exact question when Tim mumbles, “You’re so stubborn.”

I’m stubborn? He should take a look in the mirror. He reigns supreme in the stubborn kingdom. I scoff, standing my ground, watching Tim for any signs that today is a good day or a bad day.

“What is going on? Can someone please tell me what is going on here?” I wanted to say what thefuckis going on here, but Oliver can still hear, and the last thing I want him to hear is me dropping an f-bomb in a stressful situation.

Dr. Callahan, or Richard, as we sometimes call him, smiles at me and it’s joyful.

“The surgery was a success, right?” I just know it was. But why the headphones? “Is it too loud for him?” I wonder aloud, tugging Oliver behind me so I can get a closer look at Tim’s face, which is still buried between his hands. I trace along his long digits, running my hands through his soft hair before tugging his head up and meeting the cutest grin I’ve ever seen on his face.

I arch a brow, my hands signing the words,“What the fuck are you doing, Timaeus?”

His brows mimic mine, and I want to kiss the shit out of him. Right in front of his doctor and Oliver.

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