Page 116 of The Lessons

She held my hand and squeezed.

Natalie

As I sat with Ryan, sipping bad, waiting-room coffee, I tried to figure out why I was here. Why I was sitting in this waiting room? Was it because I was concerned about Ainsley? Was it because I still wanted to know, needed to know, why he’d lied about doing such a horrible thing with Dr. Lerner? Or was it because I just wanted to see him?

Yes.

Yes to all of the above.

I got up and started to pace around the small waiting room. I paused on the opposite side of the room, studying a chart about diabetes prevention.

I looked over at him.

He was still hunched over, staring down at the floor, his leg bouncing. Okay, now was not the time to pummel him with questions; he was clearly very distraught.Ormaybe it would help distract him from worrying.Yes, distraction.Maybe this was actually the perfect time.

I walked back over to him and sat down. “Hey, Ryan?”

He turned to me and smiled weakly. “Yeah, babe?”

Babe? He called me babe. Did he mean to? Or was he just tired and distraught? I looked back at him and those deep, sad eyes?Well, it almost made me lose my train of thought.Focus, Reese!

“Do you want to talk ab—”

And like fucking clockwork, a doctor decided this was the perfect moment to appear. “Mr. Andrews?” she asked, looking up from her clipboard.

Ryan’s head whipped up, and he quickly stood to meet the doctor.

“I’m Ryan Andrews. Is she okay? What happened?”

The doctor gestured for him to follow her. I started to follow them both. “Sorry, hun. Family only.”

Ryan glanced over at me and then back to the doctor. “She’s my wife.”

The doctor nodded and held the door open for me as I tried to keep my eyebrows from hitting the ceiling. I mean, I knew it was only so I could go in with him, but still…

“Doctor, are you going to tell us what happened?”

The doctor looked at us and then down at her chart. “I’m sorry, Mr. Andrews. I thought someone had briefed you. Miss Andrews had another suicide attempt.”

ChapterForty-two

Natalie

Anothersuicide attempt? Ryan had said she suffered from depression, but…wow.

Ryan’s lips moved into a hard, thin line. “Wrists or pills?”

“Pills. A neighbor found her this morning when they needed her to move her car. Looks like she OD’d around three or four in the morning.”

Ryan rubbed his face with both hands and sighed. “She was always a night owl.”

“And she still is. She’s a very lucky girl, Mr. Andrews. I’ve never seen anyone survive with that much benzodiazepine in their system.”

“She’s been on them for a long time,” Ryan said, flatly again. He seemed defeated rather than relieved.

I glanced up at him and whispered a question. “What’s a benzodi-di—”

“Benzodiazepine. Anti-anxiety medication,” he whispered back.

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