“Hey,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.
“Hi,” I said back.
“How did Grace do last night?” he asked.
“I don’t think she slept a lot,” I replied. “She was pretty uncomfortable, and I know she was worried about Sam.”
“They’re pretty sweet together, aren’t they?” He peered in through the glass where Grace and Sam were deep in conversation.
“They are,” I agreed, looking at them. “I hope I wasn’t out of line saying Sam could stay with one of us.”
“You weren’t,” he said, though his tone didn’t quite match his words. “We’ll make it work somehow.”
I nodded, shifting my eyes back to Cash. “Any word on Sam’s biopsy yet?”
Cash stiffened and shook his head, but his gaze didn’t meet mine.
“Cash, is everything okay?” I asked.
He turned his eyes back to mine, but he still felt distant, disconnected. “What? Yeah, I’m okay.”
“You couldn't have gotten much rest last night,” I said. “Why don’t you let me take over for a while? We’ll stay with Sam. You go get some rest.”
He looked back to where Sam and Grace were chatting through the glass and then returned his eyes to mine. “Alright. I probably need to catch up with the office too. Just make sure everybody’s on the same page about what information we’re releasing to the press about Sam.”
I smoothed my hands over his chest. “Okay, but promise me you’ll get a little sleep.”
“I will,” he agreed, placing his hand on the side of my cheek, lightly caressing my skin with his thumb. For a moment, I thought he was going to say something else, but instead he pressed a soft kiss to my lips, a longing look in his hazel eyes. “I’ll be back later.”
“We’ll be here,” I promised.
He kissed me once more before starting down the hall toward the elevators, and I watched until he disappeared. The space he’d been occupying turned cold, leaving me wondering if there was something more on his mind.
Twenty-Four
Cash
I madea couple of calls on the drive home to ensure everyone at the label was on the same page about Sam’s condition and what information we wanted out in the public domain. I also made sure that Grace’s name was left out of it. The last thing she and Ella needed were some overzealous fans staking them out. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I felt completely and utterly drained.
I entered through the garage and was met by the usual silence that awaited me. It was something that I’d been used to, but at that moment, the stillness sent prickles of uneasiness down my spine.
The house looked exactly as I’d left it a couple of days before, but it felt emptier somehow. There was suddenly too much space between the furniture, and the walls felt bare. The few memories that hung there felt lifetimes away but at the same time like just yesterday.
This place was supposed to be my refuge from the grief I felt. It was supposed to be a symbol of new beginnings, but sorrow had found me anyway, moving in when I wasn’t looking. It permeated the air, leaving nothing behind but the stench of despair.
When I made it to the bedroom, I sat on the foot of my bed and closed my eyes, rubbing my temples with my fingers. The room was dark except for the slivers of light that filtered around the drapes. When I opened my eyes again, I saw that the light had perfectly illuminated Carrie’s face in the photograph on the dresser.
I drew in a ragged breath as the weight of the last twenty-four hours pulled me under. I was caught in a vicious current of grief, over losing Carrie, over how close I came to losing Grace, over Sam possibly having cancer… over the fact that I could lose everything I cared about all over again. My body shook as the rapids tossed me further and further from the shore until I was just a dot in a sea of sadness. If just the possibility was enough to bring me to my knees, how would I survive if something were to actually happen?
I’d never lost a child before because I’d never been lucky enough to have a child of my own. But there was something about Grace. When I looked at her, she felt like mine or at least what I imagined that would feel like. I’d always heard people describe being a parent as having your heart beat outside of your body.
Was this what that felt like? When I’d seen her in that hospital bed, it felt like all the oxygen had been ripped from my lungs. I’d have laid down my life if it had meant saving her from pain.
Carrie’s picture swam through the deluge of sadness that poured from my eyes as I pressed the heel of my palm into my chest in a vague attempt at stopping the ache that continued to spread. I crawled up the mattress and laid down on top of the comforter, burying my face in the pillow.
Ella’s beautiful face tore through the darkness of my mind, but it only made me weep harder because all I could imagine was what would happen if I lost her too. A montage of events that may never happen played on an endless loop, each with a worse outcome than the last.
“I can’t do this,” I said to the shadows of the room. “God, please help me.” My words came out strangled and weak. “I don’t know how to do this.”
