Page 7 of This Life and All the Rest
“I didn’t stay on the cot at the hospital, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says with a sigh. “I was here in my own bed.”
“But did yousleep?”
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. The dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes say enough. She chews on her lip, and I watch as her eyes mist. I close the distance between us and pull her and Evie into a hug.
“He’s going to be okay,” I say as Evie giggles and pats my cheeks. “Trent is strong. He’ll pull through.”
Mom sniffles into my shirt.
“It’s been days. What if...what if...”
She starts to cry, and all I can do is hold her and try to temper my anger.
My mom doesn’t deserve this shit. Trent and Evelyn are supposed to be her happily ever after. Her second chance. She’s been through enough heartache, and all I want to do is rage at whatever fucker is pulling the strings behind the curtain. They haven’t even made it to their fifth wedding anniversary. Their daughter isn’t even one yet.
Trent having a massive heart attack was never supposed to happen.
He's young and healthy. Young, healthy people with ten-month-old babies aren’t supposed to have heart attacks and end up in comas.
“Dadadada,” Evie starts to chant, which makes Mom cry harder, and I press a kiss to the mini-monster’s head.
“We’ll see your Dada soon, Squirt,” I tell her, then lean back and make eye contact with my mom. “We will see him soon.”
She forces a smile and wipes her eyes on her sleeve, then pulls away and gives Evie a kiss on the cheek.
“Has she eaten?”
“Fed her a Pop-Tart and some Dr. Pepper on the drive over.”
Mom laughs like I hoped and rolls her eyes.
“She’s got avocado in her ear,” she deadpans.
“She’s gross,” I say with a shrug. “Take it up with the heathens raising her. I’m just the babysitter.”
The mood has lightened, but I’m still on high alert. Listening for movement. Subtly sniffing the air like some sort of rabid bloodhound.
I shouldn’t care that she’s here. I knew she was coming. I had almost forty-eight hours to prepare, but my composure has been all but shot to fuck within fifteen minutes of being in the same space as her.
“When did she get in?” I ask quietly, trying to mask my emotions. I keep my eyes off my mom and dig through the fridge for a yogurt instead of looking at her.
“I’m not sure. Her friend dropped her luggage off here last night around eleven, but Len—Capri—didn’t come home until around five this morning. I think she slept at the hospital.”
I try to ignore the surge of anger I feel.Capri. What a joke.
“Her friend?” I ask, muscles tensing. If she brought that French fuck home...
“Oh, yeah. Sam. Samantha Harper. She picked Capri up from the airport, too.”
I cock my head to the side.
“They’re still talking?” I knew Sam visited Lennon for a while in England when she first moved. I learned about it after the fact. But last I heard, Sam was at Georgetown and Lennon was fucking around in Paris with hippy artists and that French dick.
“Apparently.” My mom shrugs. “I’m glad she has a friend.”
I snort, and Mom hits me with a glare.
“Don’t start,” she warns, her voice low.
