CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LILY
TWO DAYS LATER
They won’t tell me what happened.
I remember the pain. The screaming. The fear.
I remember hearing the first, sweet cry from my son’s throat.
I remember the miracle of Calder’s voice, the proof that he was alive.
But after that, there’s only darkness.
I woke up yesterday morning in the hospital. Calder tells me they were able to get an air ambulance out to us at the estate, but he won’t give me any more details than that about what happened two nights ago after he made it to the house. And there’s a desperate, hollow look in his eyes when I ask, so I don’t press him for details.
Honestly? I’m not sure I want to know.
And truthfully, it doesn’t matter. Calder is alive. I’m alive. And our son is here. So much has happened in the past couple of days, and none of it feels real.
I look down at the tiny little human in my arms. He’s perfect. Even though he arrived a couple of weeks before his due date, he’s still round and healthy. He emerged with a thick crown of dark hair, and his eyes are a dark gray. He has all of his fingers and toes—I’ve counted them multiple times—and he has the softest skin and the sweetest smell and he’s everything I ever could have hoped he would be.
He’s sleeping now. And somehow it’s the most fascinating thing in all the world.
The door swings open, and Calder stands there, a bag in his hand. For a moment, he just stares at us, almost as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. And then he breaks into a wide smile.
“I brought you a cheeseburger from the cafeteria,” he says, raising the bag.
My stomach gurgles in response—I’m starving, and that sounds perfect.
“Thank you.” I look back down at the bundle in my arms. I don’t want to take my eyes off of him. “He just went back to sleep.”
Calder approaches the bed. I shift slightly, trying to give him room to sit without waking our son. He settles softly down beside me, wincing slightly as he slides his arm around me.
“You really need to go get yourself checked out,” I tell him. After a lot of begging, I got him to tell me what happened to him and his car on the night I gave birth. I still can’t believe he walked away from that accident, let alone swam through the flood. And of course, stubborn fool that he is, he’s now refusing to let any of the doctors have a look at him. He refuses to spend any more than a few minutes away from my side.
“I’m all right,” he tells me. “It’s just a few bruises.”
“It might not be—”
“I’m not leaving you,” he says. “And that’s final, Lily.” He tightens his hold on me and pulls me back against his shoulder.
I don’t argue. Honestly, I want him here with me. I thought I’d lost him. Now every moment together feels unspeakably precious—especially now that our son is here, too.
“I can’t stop staring at him,” I whisper.
Calder reaches over and sweeps his thumb gently against the little one’s cheek. “He’s got your nose.”
I smile. “And your hair.”
“And your chin.”
“And your mouth.” My grin widens. “I haven’t decided whose ears he has yet.”
A chuckle rumbles through Calder’s chest. “Let’s hope he got your ears.”
“There’s only one thing he needs,” I say. “A name.” As much as I’d like to keep calling him Bubble forever, I’m not that cruel. The time has finally come for us to make a decision.
Calder doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and then he turns his head and brushes his lips against my cheek.
“You did all the work,” he says. “You should pick his name.”
“I didn’t do all the work,” I insist. “If it weren’t for you, I would have—”
“Probably given birth here in the hospital, rather than scared and alone in our parlor.”
His bluntness startles me—though it’s clear he went through hell that night, this is the first time I’ve heard him blame himself.
“That’s not true,” I tell him. “It’s not your fault the bridge flooded. You’re a hardheaded man, Calder, but even you can’t control the weather.”
“I couldn’t have stopped the flood, but I could have been there when your labor started. Or at the very least, I could have picked up when you called me. If I’d known what was going on a little earlier, I might have made it back in time.”
“You did everything in your power to get to me,” I say. “You put your life at risk. You might have died out there.” Even just admitting that out loud makes me shiver. The anguish of that night is still too fresh. “I thought I’d lost you.”
His arm tightens around me. “I thought I’d lost you. God, Lily, when I saw all that blood…” He swallows. “I should never have left the estate in the first place, not while you were on bed rest. I should have been there for you. Instead, I was too busy trying to fix the mess I’d made.”
A couple of days ago, I might have still blamed him for the role he played in my mom’s departure—or at least torn him a new one for deciding to move her into a hotel behind my back—but his actions seem like such a small thing now. He didn’t put my mom on that plane. He tried to stop her.
“It wasn’t your mess,” I tell him. “My mom made her own choices.” My gaze drifts back to my son. I will never leave you. Never. “I should have listened to you all along. You knew she would only hurt me again, and even though I knew deep down that you were right, I just couldn’t let her go. I wanted so badly to believe she’d changed, and I refused to acknowledge the truth—even when it was right in front of my face.”
“Lily, you should know—”
“Wait,” I say. “I need to make things right between us. To apologize for how I’ve behaved. You were only looking out for me, and I just turned everything into a fight. I’m sorry, Calder. I’m sorry for being so blind and so emotional. For making the last few weeks so much harder than they needed to be.”
“Actually,” he says, “it’s me who should apologize. Lily, there’s something you should know.”
Something about his tone makes me twist to look up into his face. “What?”
“There’s more to the story with your mother than I told you the other night,” he says, and his dark eyes soften slightly. “I believe she genuinely wanted to get to know you. To mend the wounds between you.”
I can’t believe that now, after she’s walked out on me a second time, he’s suddenly changing his tune about her. That he’s actually coming to her defense. “I don’t understand.”
“She was keeping a secret from us, Lily. I only found out about it just before she left.” His gaze searches mine, and I suspect he’s trying to gauge whether or not I’m emotionally stable enough to hear what he’s about to say. “She didn’t want me to tell you, but I refuse to keep it a secret from you.”
“What is it?” I ask, suddenly apprehensive. What could my mom have been hiding?
“She’s sick,” he says softly. “Dying, actually. She said it was cancer, but she didn’t give me any of the details.”
I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. It takes me a full minute to find my voice.
“Cancer?” I finally croak. My mom is dying? So many emotions flood me at once that I have no idea what I’m supposed to feel.
Calder is frowning. “I shouldn’t have said anything yet. I should have given you a few days—”
“No. I’m glad you told me.” Even if I’m feeling paralyzed right now. “I just… Are you sure?”
“She might have been lying to me, but I don’t think so.” His fingers slide down my arm. “If she was planning to leave all along, why didn’t she just take the money I offered her?”
We’re going to have to talk about his little bribe attempt later, but I don’t want to dwell on the subject right now.
“She left a note,” he goes on. “But it was in my pocket in the storm, and God knows where those pants are now.” Apparently he stripped down to his underclothes before attempting to swim his way back to the estate—but though I would have liked to see my mom’s last message, his life means so much more to me. If he had to lose the note in order to get back to me safely, then I’m willing to live with that.
“It’s all right,” I say, bringing my attention back down to the baby in my arms.
“I can tell you what it said,” he continues. “It said that her heart could be at ease, knowing we’d found each other. That she didn’t want you to spend the next year focusing on death, but rather on the life you were bringing into this world.”
Tears burn in my eyes. God, will I ever regain control of my emotions?
Even though I longed for her love, it was easy to hate my mom. To think of her as selfish and flighty. To be annoyed by her probing questions and tactless comments. But now I see her as a confused, vulnerable woman only trying to make things right when faced with the prospect of her death.
“It’s not fair,” I whisper. After all this time, we could have fixed things. We could have had some time together. “We should try to find her. She shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”
“Lily, I don’t think she wants to be found.”
On top of everything else, this is too much. I pull my son in closer. She could have been here. She could have met her grandson. We could have done something—helped her pay for treatment, or supported her after surgery, or even just been there for her. Anything is better than this. I feel so helpless. The thought of her being off somewhere by herself, of her dying alone somewhere across the ocean, makes my chest ache.
The little miracle in my arms shifts in his sleep. His tiny mouth opens slightly, but he doesn’t make a sound.
You’re needed here, I remind myself. You have a life to nurture. It’s your turn to be a mother now, and you need to be here for your son.
And I will. If I have to make a choice, then I will always choose my son.
In the meantime, though, I lean back against Calder and let the tears fall.