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“There’s not much to do but wait at this point.”
“Right.”
“Is there anyone else to call?”
I look over at my mom. Our relationship might be complicated, but for a woman who’s prided herself on never being alone, there’s something especially heartbreaking knowing I was the only one who would come to her side.
“No, there’s no one else.”
The doctor nods and then steps out, leaving me to the quiet beeping of my mom’s heart monitor. I pull the chair in the corner of the room up to her bed and sit, holding her hand, which is unusually cold.
Or is it? I guess I wouldn’t know. I can’t remember the last time I held her hand.
The room is bare and sterile, exactly what you’d expect from a hospital room, and something about it feels especially depressing. As the day drags on and my mom’s condition worsens instead of improves, my emotions start to get the better of me. My mom and I may have had a complicated relationship, but I never imagined I’d be in this kind of position.
I don’t want to be here alone. I should’ve taken Dom up on his offer.
I pull my hand from my mom’s and reach for my phone in my purse. It takes me longer than it should to pull up Dom’s contact and finally press the button because my hands are suddenly shaking, and my chest heaves with barely restrained sobs. It’s like that day at the restaurant when my mom walked away from me but a million times worse, and I don’t really understand why I’m losing it like this.
It only rings once before he says, “Laney?”
The smooth cadence of his voice is an instant balm to the fear that is wreaking havoc through my system.
“I need you,” I say, my voice hoarse and barely audible.
He’s immediately on alert. “Where are you?”
I tell him and then hang up because I can’t stop shaking or speak through the tears streaming down my face. My fingers are suddenly freezing cold—in fact, the whole room feels cold and achingly lonely. I bury my head in my hands and rock back and forth in the uncomfortable chair for I don’t know how long before strong arms wrap around me.
I look up into Dom’s bright blue eyes, his jaw clenched like granite, as he lifts me up, holding me tight against his body before settling in the chair with me in his lap, just like he did the last time I saw my mom. His arms tighten around me, and I’m infused with his warmth. I wiggle my arms from where they’re trapped against his chest and wrap them around his neck, holding him as close to me as I possibly can.
“Thank you for coming.”
“There’s nowhere else in the world I want to be but wherever you are.”
Thirty-Six
We’re sitting with our bodies parallel on the sturdy cot the nurse rolled in for us, Laney tucked into my side with her head resting on my shoulder. They were going to force her out, but being semi-famous has its perks, and I was finally able to use all the media attention on me for something good. Laney’s mom still rests in her bed, the heart monitor and the stuttered rise and fall of her chest the only signs she’s still alive. She hasn’t woken in the twenty-four hours that we’ve been here, and unfortunately her condition hasn’t gotten better, so it’s been a lot of waiting for what seems like more bad news every time the doctor comes in here.
The TV is on, playing quietly in the background on an entertainment news channel since there’s nothing else on. I’ve got my eyes closed when Laney stiffens against me. I open them at the same time she grabs the remote to turn up the volume, her eyes glued to the screen.
“It looks like there’s another Hollywood baby on the way. Jen Summers just announced she’s pregnant, but the real question is: Who’s the father? Not long ago, she was caught having an affair with none other than LA Wolves cornerback Dominic Smith.”
“It was quite the scandal, Steve. If you recall, her husband caught them in the act.”
My teeth grind together as the two entertainment news anchors—are they even called news anchors if they only sling rumors and gossip about what’s going on in Hollywood?—speculate about whether I’m the father of Jen Summers’s baby.
Laney pulls away from me, standing up and walking toward the door before I can even reach out to grab her.
“I’m getting some water,” she mumbles right before she swings the door open and disappears into the hall.
I run my hands over my face before pushing myself up to standing and chasing after her. “Fuck this,” I mutter, annoyed and irritated Jen is letting this bullshit go out to the media after I made sure her name wasn’t slandered further while I tried to fix my reputation.
Her baby is not mine, and she knows it.
“Laney, wait,” I call out, right as she rounds the corner into a small room that has a couple of vending machines and a few chairs for those looking for quiet.
She doesn’t even spare me a glance. “What is it?” She’s trying to act unaffected—not well, but trying nonetheless—but the resignation in her voice still guts me.
