Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Maybe.”
She laughed, a soft despairing sound. “I thought you didn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Waste time on empty platitudes.”
He shifted slightly and adjusted his hold around her body. She felt the weight of his cheek come to rest at the top of her head, his beard catching some of the messy strands of her uncombed hair.
“Well, I need a few comforting platitudes myself right now,” he said on a sigh. “Cyrus is strong, Lilah. A fighter. Maybe he’ll pull through this.”
She sighed shakily. “You’re such a liar. But… thank you.”
Cyrus Beckett slipped away quietly and peacefully that same night. Lilah and Ben were right by his side when he took his last halting breath and passed from this world into the next.
At first, Lilah was panicked and confused by the lack of urgency and activity when the cardiac monitor flatlined and went off into that sustained monotonous beep that signaled the cessation of a heartbeat.
“No,” she gasped in horror when she realized what the noise meant. “No.”
Dr. Mendelssohn stepped into the room, accompanied by a nurse—Calvin—who’d been nothing but kind and considerate to Lilah and Ben through the interminable night.
The doctor stepped over to the bed and stopped the horrible noise, before checking her grandfather’s vitals. His mouth was drawn into a tight line and he slanted Lilah and Ben a quick sympathetic look before taking notes on her grandfather’s chart and checking his watch before murmuring to Calvin, “Time of death: three forty-four a.m.”
Calvin checked his watch as well and nodded. “Confirming time of death at three forty-four a.m.”
“No,” Lilah moaned. She pushed to her feet and was peripherally aware of Ben coming to his more slowly. “Why aren’t you doing something? Bring him back. Please, please bring him back.”
“Mrs. Templeton, you grandfather signed a DNR—uh, that’s Do Not Resuscitate—order. Do you understand what that means?” She nodded automatically in response to the gentle question. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Cyrus was…” Dr. Mendelssohn shook his head with a small sad smile. “He was a great man. And he’ll be missed.”
Somehow this DNR thing felt like the final betrayal and her legs gave way. She felt Ben’s strong arms closing around her, saving her from falling, and was aware of him asking her if she was okay. But she could barely hear him beyond the angry buzzing in her ears.
Gramps was gone.
He was really, really gone.
He’d been her only family, her rock, the one person who had truly loved her above all others in this world and now he was gone.
And all she was left with was a fake marriage and husband who borderline despised her.
She heard the high keening cry of grief and was embarrassed to know that it came from her, but there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop the wail of pain and loss. Ben turned her in his arms and held her tight and knowing that he felt this loss as keenly as she did, Lilah accepted the solace of his embrace and tried her best to offer some modicum of that same comfort in return.
She squeezed him tightly and wept inconsolably in his arms and she could only hope that Ben let go of his rigid self-control long enough shed a few tears as well.
EIGHTEEN
Not a sustainable situation
“Blake’s here.” Ben’s voice was muted but firm. “I think you should see her. She’s worried about you. We all are. C’mon, cupcake, you haven’t gotten out of bed since the funeral. And that was three days ago in case you’ve lost track of time.”
“I don’t want to see anyone,” Lilah said. “What are you doing?”
The indignant exclamation came when Ben unceremoniously yanked the thick, warm comforter off the bed, leaving her curled up in a defenseless fuzzy pajama clad little ball in the middle of the denuded bed.
“You’re getting up and heading into that bathroom to brush your teeth and take a shower. For your sake as well as mine. I can’t keep sleeping next to your increasingly rank body.”
“You’re welcome to sleep elsewhere,” she told him with a petulant glare, sitting up, her slowness screaming her reluctance to him.
“It’s my bed.”
“Fine!” she said, getting up and acknowledging privately that maybe she had been in bed for too long when the room rotated drunkenly around her. “I’ll move to the spare room.”
Of course, she could always move out completely, but the mere thought of that right now was too emotionally taxing.
His flat, unimpressed stare told her exactly how he felt about her response.
“You sleep with me.”
“Me man! You woman! Woman do what Man say!” she said in a deep voice, mocking him. She thumped her chest for good measure and felt alive for the first time since Gramps’s death ten days ago.
His lips twitched, but he kept his expression schooled to absolute neutrality.
“Now you’re getting it,” he said with a satisfied nod and she rolled her eyes, trying hard not to be amused by him.