Page 29 of My Sweetest Obsession
Given the way I raced over here after receiving the message, I’m sure my appearance is as much in disarray as my mind is.
“Umm…” I scan the waiting room, but it’s empty. With no sign of Mom, I keep working on drawing air into my lungs and releasing it slowly as I approach the desk. “My mother texted asking me to meet her here. Nancy Usher…”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen slightly, then dip to the paint covering my hand clutching my phone. “She mentioned you would be coming. Let me take you back.”
“Thank you.”
My voice comes out far too unsteady and breathless.
Something Mom will certainly notice if I don’t get my shit together. Quickly.
Pressing my hand over my thundering heart, I inhale deeply again, clearing my throat to dispel some of the tension so I don’t look panicked when I see her.
If her cancer is back, if it’s bad news, I need to be the strong one this time.
I need to be the one who keeps it together.
Because Drew isn’t here to do it anymore.
He was the one who truly stepped up, who took on that caregiver role for her and me when seeing her so sick left me in a dark place where all I could see was the possibility of losing her.
If she needs you, you can do it…
That’s what I tell myself as the receptionist leads me down a short hallway and pauses in front of an exam room with a closed door. “Here you go.”
She knocks once, then opens it wide for me to step in.
As soon as my feet cross the threshold, my eyes immediately go to Mom, who sits in a chair against the wall to my left.
Her gaze connects with mine, shimmering with tears she’s barely keeping at bay. She gives me a tight smile, but unease radiates from her. “Thank you for coming.”
The receptionist tugs the door closed behind me, but I barely hear it, completely focused on Mom and how swollen her eyes look from crying. My stomach tenses, and I shove my phone into my pocket as I cross over to her.
“Of course.” I squat in front of her chair, pulling her hands into mine. “What’s wrong?”
Please, God, don’t let the cancer be back…
After everything that’s happened, I don’t think I could survive another blow like that right now—or ever.
Mom presses her lips together, locking her gaze with mine. And for the first time in my life, I can’t read her. She and Drew were always so much alike—wearing their hearts on their sleeves. But now, a strange mixture of emotions swims in her eyes, and even though I can’t see their color anymore, I can see her uncertainty at the center of them
“I’m fine, honey.” She squeezes my hands. “This isn’t about me.”
“What?”
She glances over my shoulder at something behind me, and I turn my head and freeze.
All the air rushes from my lungs, my heart stopping as my eyes meet Ivy’s, where she sits reclined on an exam table in a medical gown with a blanket draped across her legs and abdomen.
“Ivy…”
Her name comes out like a prayer.
Because it is one.
Seeing her is like witnessing a goddamn miracle in real life because I never thought I would again.
Only I can’t enjoy the moment.
