Page 201 of Lose You Twice

Anger boils instantly inside of me, and while I don’t think it’s polite, I’d love to have a little chat with this Sofia. Makes sense why we’re having extra dramatics this morning.

“The next time your birthday happens on a school day, I’ll come eat lunch with you. Maybe even bring you a milkshake?”

The bribe falls flat, and her lips start quivering as more tears fall. “I want a normal family. Like Sofia.”

I sigh, not mentally prepared to have this conversation at seven a.m. “Not all families look the same, Daisy. Sometimes mommies and daddies don’t live together, but sometimes they do. Everyone gets to choose who they love, and they get to be happy together. I wouldn’t want you to stay somewhere you weren't happy and loved, would you?”

She shakes her head, and I smile softly. “I didn’t think so. I love you very much. And so does Mommy, Holden, Justin, and Lily. We love you and think you are so, so special, and we are so lucky that we get to spend every day with you.”

“Do you like being with me even when I try to give Lily a haircut?”

I stifle a laugh, moving to stand and holding out a hand to her. “Well, we would all be happy if we didn’t do haircuts anymore, but it doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

She grabs my hand, standing up, and I pull her into a hug. “You okay now?”

“Yeah. I just get sad sometimes.” She wipes her nose on the sleeve.

“That’s perfectly okay. I get sad sometimes too. Can you go to the bathroom really quick before we leave?”

She nods, heading off toward the bathroom.

Talk about a way to start my morning.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out as my mom finally makes it downstairs, Lily right behind her.

“Daisy okay?” she asks, heading straight for the coffee pot.

“Yeah, one of her classmates’ birthdays is today, and her dad is bringing her lunch,” I explain, looking through my notifications before seeing the one from MyChart.

New Test Result

Everything inside me goes quiet.

Mom must notice because she lowers the coffee pot. “What?”

I stare at the screen. “My ultrasound results are in.”

Her whole expression changes.

Mom’s a nurse. She’s had practice controlling her facial expressions.

Unfortunately for her, I’ve had twenty-one years of practice reading it.

“Do you want to open it?” she asks.

“Putting it off won’t change whatever it says,” I say, clicking the results.

The portal loads.

Daisy comes running back into the hallway. “I can’t find my purple water bottle!”

“Check by your backpack,” Lily says.

“It’s not there.”

“It is literally there.”

Their argument fades behind the sound of my own heartbeat.