“I know how hurt you must be. How betrayed you must feel. But coming here anyway and being with him… it’s so important. And above all else, you know he loves you so much and would never want you to suffer in any way.” She reaches over and takes my hand, the rosary beads in her other hand. Her fingers are cold and thin, and it jars me. When did she get so fragile? “The nurses said you talk to your dad and tell him about your job.”
“It makes me feel closer to him, like I’m pretending he can hear everything I say.”
“I bet he can. And you know he always liked hearing about your work. Even when he pretended not to understand the business parts.” A ghost of a smile crosses her face. “He was so proud of you, Adriana. Is so proud. He’s not gone yet.”
My throat tightens. “I know.”
We sit quietly for a while. The machines beep. The ventilator hums. Outside, the sun is starting to set.
“Tomorrow,” Mom says finally. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“To a Molloy,” she says in a resigned voice.
“Yes.”
She sighs. “I didn’t know about the contract. I want you to know that. Dad never told me.”
“I know, Mom.”
“You know I would have said something. I would have fought him on it. You shouldn’t have to—” Her voice breaks, and she presses her free hand to her mouth.
“It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like my fault. All of it. The attack, the coma, this marriage.” She shakes her head. “I’ve been his wife for forty-three years. I thought I knew everything. But this… this blindsided me.”
I squeeze her hand. “It blindsided all of us.”
“Are you scared?”
The question catches me off guard. I’m supposed to be the strong one now. The one who holds everything together. But I need to have a momentary freakout over these circumstances. I’m allowing it for myself.
“Yes,” I admit. “I’m terrified.”
Mom nods. “Of course you are. You know, when I married your father, I knew what I was getting into. The life. The danger. The secrets. My mother warned me. My sisters warned me. But I loved him madly. So I did it anyway.”
“Did you ever regret it?”
She doesn’t answer for a couple of minutes, just stares at my father. The time stretches so long, I think she might not answer.
“Some days,” she says finally. “When he missed your birthday because of business. When I had to explain to you girls why Daddy couldn’t come to your school play. When I woke up at 3 AM and he wasn’t beside me and I didn’t know if he was ever coming back.” She takes a shaky breath. “But then I’d seehim with you and Luna. See the way he looked at me across the dinner table. And I’d remember why I chose this.”
“I don’t have that. With Lochlan. I don’t love him.”
“Not yet.”
I slant her a sharp look. “Mom?—”
“I’m not saying you will. I’m just saying… don’t close the door before you’ve walked through it.” She squeezes my hand. “He’s not his father. I watched him at the hospital. He seems different from the others.”
“Different doesn’t mean trustworthy.”
“No. It doesn’t.” She turns away to look at Dad and the tubes, the wires, and the machines keeping him alive. “But your father trusted him enough to sign that contract. For whatever that’s worth.”
“Right now? It’s not worth much.”
“I know.” She sighs. “I know.”
