Page 70 of Single Mom's Daddies
I snort a laugh. “They’re…intense,” I say. “But the kids are sweet.”
“And Ivy?”
I don’t want to say the words. “She’s back in the hospital.”
His inhale is sharp. “What happened?”
“She was too tired. Again. Her bloodwork dipped, and they won’t release her until she stabilizes.”
He swears softly under his breath. “She was doing so well.”
“I know.” I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “She misses you.”
“I miss her more,” he says. “Tell her I’ll come by tomorrow. Bring her that fuzzy blanket she likes when she sleeps over. The yellow one. Looks like a dead duck.”
I smile without meaning to. “She’d love that.”
“You holding up?”
I don’t answer right away.
“Saff?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I’m not.”
The silence on the line is thick. Not judging. Not pressuring. Justthere.“You don’t have to be. You just have to keep showing up and pretending for her sake.”
My throat tightens. “I’m so tired.”
“I know.”
“She’s not getting better. Not really. We’re just managing. Waiting for something, a miracle. Hoping.”
“You been doing that a long time.”
“Yeah. And it feels awful, because Ivy’s success means another child’s tragedy.”
His voice is heavy. “I know. It’s not easy because you’re not heartless. You’re a good mom, Saff. Even when you were working in the pediatric office, you were a good mom to the kids in there too. That’s just who you are.”
My eyes sting.
“I’m proud of you,” he says.
“I’m not proud of me.”
“Doesn’t matter. I am.”
I blink up at the ceiling. “She asks about you. She still thinks your cane is a magic staff, like Gandalf.”
He chuckles. “That’s because it is.”
“She really wants you to bring her a cheeseburger next time.”
“You think I won’t?”
“You better not. She’s on a sodium restriction again. And sugar restriction. No candy either, old man.”
He sighs. “That hospital’s no fun.”
