Page 97 of The Bodyguard Affair
Her eyes well with tears. “I want that, too,” she says softly. “But I’m scared. I don’t know if I would be okay if it didn’t work out, regardless of all the reasons you want to stay. That’s why I need you to really think about this. I can’t let you make such a huge decision on a whim.”
My heart twinges when her voice cracks a little, and it hitsme hard. She’s scared. Scared to believe in what we have. Scared of what happens if it all falls apart. And to be honest, so am I—only, instead of turning inward to me, she’s turning away.
“A whim,” I repeat, because it feels like anything but. I understand what she’s saying. She needs to know I’m all in. That it isn’t just an impulsive decision I’ll regret. My word isn’t enough.
“You’ve been through a lot the past few months. Everything with your mom and her move to the facility. I think you need some time. Please, take it,” she pleads.
And maybe she has a point. Maybe I do need to think it through.
Chapter 43
Nolan
After Mexico, I can’t sleep without Andi curled up next to me, the pads of her fingers tracing little squiggles and hearts on my chest. Her small body managing to hog 70 percent of the bed and covers. There were so many times I wanted to call her just to hear her voice.
Unfortunately, I don’t have plans to see her until the gala at the end of the week. I’ve taken four days off work to handle the move. While we were in Mexico, the house officially sold to the highest bidder, who offered $75K over the asking price. Emma and I have been busy packing and sorting out all the legal paperwork associated with the sale.
Unfortunately, packing is proving difficult. Mom keeps forgetting about the move and is becoming increasingly agitated about all her belongings being moved. This afternoon, she got upset with me when she came into the living room to find her furniture gone. She’d forgotten she gave us permission to donateit. When I reminded her about the move, she became irate. Honestly, it was really hard to watch. Emma had to come and try to smooth things over.
“We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?” I ask Em. We’re in the backyard, watching Mom putter away weeding the garden while singing. One of the only activities she wants to do.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, but I know it is. For her and for us.” She swings me a questioning glance.
“What if she hates it? What if she thinks we abandoned her?” It’s my biggest fear, along with her forgetting who we are.
Em is quiet for a moment. “You’re really worried about her,” she finally says.
“I always worry, Em. She’s our mom,” I reply, probably more defensively than I intended.
“No. I know you’ve always cared on some level—”
“I…didn’t expect to care this much,” I admit. “I’ve been so angry with her for so long, ever since I was a kid. All I felt was this deep-seated resentment whenever I thought about her, whenever I saw her. I never thought there would be a time I could look at her and not feel that way. Because feeling the opposite, feeling hope, always meant disappointment. And I hate that it feels like she’s leaving us all over again.”
Em sniffs, rubbing her nose with her sleeve. “I know. It’s fucking cruel, is what it is. But it always helps me to remember that, this time, it’s not her choice.”
“I know. I don’t know why that makes it worse.”
“In some ways, it is. But for me, it’s nice to finally know it’s not us, you know? I spent so much of my childhood wondering if there was something wrong with me, wondering why we kept getting passed around.” We sit with that for a few beats.
I squeeze her hand, the way I used to when we were kids. Whenever we’d be shoved into someone’s car, on the way to the next house. “I’m sorry, Em.”
“For what?”
“For leaving you right after high school as soon as I could. I was a selfish asshole,” I admit, still unable to wrap my mind around how I could leave so easily. How I could compartmentalize, throwing everything into my training, my job. Barely even thinking about my family, because thinking about them hurt too much.
“Starting your career and making money was not an asshole move,” she argues.
“Okay, but it was an asshole move to leave again when Mom was diagnosed. You never should have had to step up in the first place. You had a whole family and a husband…and I just fucked off.”
Her lip twitches. “You did. But you came back. You stepped up this summer. I’m really proud of you for that. And mostly, for giving Mom some grace. For spending more time with her, giving her a chance to show you who she really is before it’s too late.”
It feels wrong to be thanked for that. For enjoying Mom’s company on her good days, laughing at her ridiculous stories, even if she can get on my nerves at times. I’m not sure what changed with her over the years, or whether she’s always been this person deep down, but something about her energy is infectious. If anything, finally getting to know Mom over these past few weeks was the privilege of a lifetime.
• • •
I get a call from Deidra at the rescue farm the next day.
“Someone put in an application to adopt Cody,” she informs.Her tone is casual enough, but the words hit me like a sledgehammer to the face.
