Page 141 of I’m Already Gone

“They’re beautiful,” I coo, taking them from him and pulling him into a big hug. I close my eyes for a second, wanting to hold onto this moment.

“Daddy says pretty flowers for a pretty angel. That’s you, Mama,” he mumbles into my shoulder.

My heart can hardly contain the flood of love and emotion.

“I’ll put them in water, Mom,” Maddy says, reaching for the bouquet.

“Thank you, sweetie,” I say, running my hand down her hair as she takes them.

Ethan strides over, his hands finding my waist, and he draws me against him. “Hello, my wife. You okay?” His voice is a deep, comforting rumble that makes me feel instantly at ease.

I nod. “Hello, my husband. And yes, everything is fine.” My gaze drifts back to Maddy, who’s arranging the flowers in a vase.

Ethan tilts my chin to meet his eyes. “How about we lend a hand with dinner? You can boss us around if you’re up for it.” He flashes that sexy smirk of his, making it hard to resist smiling in return.

“Yeah, Mom. How hard can it be?” Jake chimes in with a shrug.

“Okay, this sucks,” Jake groans, wrestling with the sticky dough, trying to coax it into the glass pie pan.

“Jake, you’re doing it wrong,” Maddy states matter-of-factly, leaning over his shoulder.

“I’m doing exactly what he’s telling me to do!” Jake protests, jabbing a doughy finger toward the tablet where the YouTuber is demonstrating.

“Here, let me,” Maddy says, reaching for the pan, but Jake pulls it away, blocking her.

“What are you doing?” She laughs, trying to get around his elbow. “Stop poking him.”

“Him?” Jake glances at her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “It’s a freaking glob of dough.”

She rolls her eyes so hard they almost disappear. “It. Whatever,” she sighs. “You have to be gentle with it. You’re overworking it. It’s going to be rubbery. You have to be delicate so the crust can come out flaky and, you know, edible.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert now, huh?” Jake teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

Maddy crosses her arms, not bothering to dignify that with a response, but her expression says plenty.

“This is too funny.” Ethan chuckles from behind the island, dicing the chicken into neat bits while I chop carrots.

“I know. It’s so cute,” I say.

Ollie props his chin on his hands, elbows on the table, silently watching the show. Maybe I should make him some popcorn.

“Ugh! Why does it keep sticking to my hands?” Jake whines, shaking his dough-covered fingers as if they’re possessed.

“Because you have to use flour! I told you that! But you don’t listen!” Maddy snaps. She stomps over to the small bowl of flour, grabs a pinch, and dusts his hands.

“Well, look at that!” Jake exclaims, looking from his now less sticky hands to Maddy, a broad grin spreading across his face. “It actually works!”

She shakes her head, sets the bowl down, and turns to me. “Mom,” she whines, stomping her foot lightly, “are you seriously going to let him ruin the crust? You know that’s the best part!”

I grin, watching my children banter back and forth, soaking in the sound of their laughter. My heart aches knowing that moments like these are limited, but I’m thankful this one will stay with them long after I’m gone.

Something is wrong.

“Lily? What’s the matter?” Ethan asks.

“It… it hurts to swallow,” I rasp, a wave of nausea washing over me. My chest feels like it’s on fire, a searing pain that seems to radiate from my throat, burning me from the inside out. Each breath feels shallow and constricted.

“Hurts to swallow?” he repeats, his eyes wide with alarm. He kneels before me and places his hand on my forehead. “Sunshine? You’re scaring me.”