Page 99 of You Had Me At Thirteen

I rest my chin on his chest, taking in his beauty. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it to be honest. ‘Yeah?’

His eyes search mine. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

He shrugs, a look of guilt crossing his face as he rubs the centre of his chest. ‘I knew you were upset about Carla, so I dragged it on.’

‘You’re kidding?’ I push myself up, using his chest.

‘You thought I was cheating on you.’

‘I… I just thought…’ A tear slips down my cheek. ‘I cried over you.’

Wren wipes my tears, his eyes softening. ‘I know. I’m a dick. But I was angry. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?’

I nod. ‘Of course, I can. I’m sorry too.’

My brain fails when Wren grins at me, the full impact of it slamming into me like a damn runaway train.

‘Good, because I’m starving after that round of cardio. Once you feed me, we can go again.’ He wiggles his eyebrows at me while tickling my ribs.

‘You’re insatiable,’ I say, squirming in his grip as I attempt to escape him.

‘Only for you baby.’ He kisses the tip of my nose. ‘Food now?’

I shake my head at the man squeezing my heart so tight it may burst.

After a few moments, Wren jumps up to wet a towel to clean me up, then we get dressed again, deciding that pizza is the way to go. Once it arrives, we sit at the kitchen table to eat.

When a couple of slices of pizza have filled my stomach, I sit back, feeling content. ‘How long is Carla here for?’

Wren places his half-eaten slice down before taking a sip of his drink. ‘Not sure. A couple of weeks maybe.’

‘Is she here for your mum?’

He nods. ‘She’s going to be her palliative care nurse until… you know.’ His voice trails off as he stares at his plate.

My stomach knots as I think about Deb, and I take Wren’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

He presses his lips to the palm of my hand, but says nothing else.

When we’ve finished eating, Wren gathers the plates and puts them in the dishwasher. As he moves around the kitchen tidying up, I watch him, my chin in my hand, my heart fluttering in my chest. I had him pegged so wrong for so many years, but it almost feels like a lifetime ago. With Wren, I feel every emotion under the sun.

It’s like melting and freezing at the same time.

FORTY-THREE

Wren

* * *

It’s been a week and a half since I found out Mum’s medication isn’t working as it should. My eyes burn from another late-night reading through those goddamn medical textbooks. I understand most of the medical terminology bullshit, but there’s nothing else in them that gives me any hope.

So, when I’m not with Matilda, I’m searching through every bit of information I can find online as well. The only other thing I’ve found involves alternative medicine. The placebo effect, traditional Chinese medicine, high-dose intravenous vitamin C, you name it, it’s there.

But what the fuck am I supposed to do with all that? I need to talk to my mum, work out a plan of action now that Plan A has gone to shit. We’ll move on to Plan B, Plan C, Plan fucking XYZ if we have to.

One minute I think I’ve accepted my mum’s mortality, the next I’m combing through every piece of information I can find in the hopes something will smack me in the face. I’ve read plenty of stories where people on their deathbeds are spontaneously healed from cancer that had previously riddled their bodies down to skin and bone. I just can’t lose her, so I’ll keep searching for the holy grail until the day she takes her last breath.

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