Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Now here we are.
Gathered around a dying man’s hospital bed, watching him sleep while machines keep him alive.
It feels wrong to be a part of this. Inappropriate, even, to be taking part in a moment so intimate for this family. I shouldn’t be here.
But leaving Burke’s side also feels wrong given everything we’ve led his family to believe about us. Adding drama on top of tragedy would be traumatic for the Rothwells, and I’m not about to touch that with a ten-foot pole.
I remind myself it’s not about me, it’s not about Burke, and it’s not about our arrangement.
Not here, not now anyway.
This moment is about Redmond, his family, and their potential final goodbyes—nothing more, nothing less.
“Can I get anyone anything?” I break the silence that’s been weighing us down for the past hour. I’m not sure any of them have so much as looked at each other since the doctors let us in the room. In fact, we’re lucky they’re allowing us all to be in here at the same time. Hospital policy typically allows for only two visitors at a time in ICU rooms, but I suppose they make exceptions when there’s an entire wing named after you.
“No.” Burke glances down, acknowledging me for the first time. His nose twitches when he realizes I’m holding on to him, as if he finds it annoying.
I let go.
“Nicola?” I ask. “Dash?”
Nicola ignores me as she takes a seat on the edge of her father’s bed. Dashiell shakes his head no, though he offers a grateful, tight-lipped smile.
Heat creeps up the sides of my neck as I turn my attention to Dorian.
“Dorian, can I get you anything?” I offer, knowing he’ll likely ignore me the way Nicola did.
Between the search for Redmond and the commotion that ensued, I’ve yet to stop thinking about our unfinished conversation. He wanted an answer that I couldn’t give him, and while I was grateful for Yvette’s interruption at that moment, I never expected it to lead to this.
“I should check on the kids,” Dash says. We’d only been here a few minutes when one of the floor receptionists offered to let them wait in a private office, with crayons and coloring books to distract them from what was going on. “They’re probably hungry. And tired. If it’s okay with you, I’ll get us a room at the Marriott down the way.”
Nicola says nothing, only nods. Turning to her brothers, she says, “I’m staying. And you two better stay as well. We’re not leaving his side.”
A neon-yellow sign fixed to the door states that visiting hours end at 8:00 p.m.
I imagine, much like the other rules in this hospital, that won’t apply to the Rothwells.
Dash gives his wife a peck on the cheek before departing, though she doesn’t seem to care or notice. Her tired eyes are glued to her father as if she’s worried his heart will stop beating if she takes a break from watching.
“I’m going to grab some coffee,” I say after Dashiell leaves. “I think there’s a vending machine down the hall.”
My words are met by silence, though I don’t blame any of them.
It’s been a traumatic day, and the three of them are facing the reality of losing their last living parent.
I only wish there was something more I could do for them.
I’m halfway to the vending machine when I remember I don’t have my purse. We left the island in such a hurry that there wasn’t time to grab anything. Reaching into my pocket, I feel for my phone, which I happened to have on me by chance when everything happened.
Gathering a breath, I take a seat in the waiting room.
Those three need a moment alone with their dad anyway.
The TV mounted in the corner is muted on some cable news channel—one with a never-ending scroll at the bottom that makes the viewers feel like the country is one headline away from collapsing once and for all.
With a strong cell signal and nothing but time on my hands, I catch up on text messages and emails and mindless social media scrolling, grateful for the much-needed distraction.
“There you are.”
I glance up to find Nicola standing before me, her hands on her narrow hips as she peers down her angular nose.
“Thought you were getting coffee?” she asks.
I place my phone down. “I forgot I didn’t have my purse with me.”
“There’s a beverage station in the hall for visitors. Free coffee and ice water.” Her tone is neutral, but I can’t tell if she’s being kind or facetious. The woman’s impossible to read. “You’ve been out here a long time. Thought maybe you got lost.”
“I was just giving you guys some space.”
She sniffs, her lips half-cocked on one side. “How gracious of you.”
I’m still not sure what she wants or why she’s standing here, pretending to be friendly when her eyes are shooting daggers my way, but I straighten my shoulders and do my best to appear as unfazed as possible.