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“We could call her Beth,” Lauren said with a smile. “But what if it’s a boy? What was your grandfather’s name?”
“Jonathan.”
“I like that.”
I felt a rush of emotion that caught me by surprise. Was this what love felt like? I had never felt like this before. In college, I had felt myself beginning to fall for Lauren, to care for her, but it was nothing like this. This was much deeper, stronger. I wanted to tell her I loved her, and I thought about how I should do it.
Then, my phone rang.
“Don’t answer it,” Lauren dared me.
But I did.
It was Uncle Albert, informing me that my mother had been rushed to hospital after she collapsed at home. The housekeeper found her, apparently. A possible heart attack. I heard the news and felt detached from it somehow.
“Thank you for informing me,” I said, rather formally, realizing we’d have to leave. Even here, my mother had managed to reach me and tried to destroy my happiness.
As soon as I told Lauren what had happened, she got up and packed our things. She wanted to leave right away but I insisted that we have breakfast first.
“You need your strength,” I said.
But my reasons were entirely selfish. I wasn’t ready to leave our forest den, our little hideaway among the trees. It had been fantastic, these past two days with Lauren, all alone, rekindling our relationship and finding that our bond was stronger than it had ever been.
“We have to get to the airport,” Lauren said, anxiously looking at her phone.
“She’s stable and in hospital,” I said. “We’ll get there soon enough.”
I couldn’t tell Lauren about my suspicions, awful as they were. But I couldn’t discount completely that my mother had somehow orchestrated this medical emergency to get me back to the city and to the company. She must have realized that I could not be separated from Lauren and had to find a way to force my hand, bring me back to the city.
But I wanted to hold on to the romance that Lauren and I had found in Colorado. As she walked ahead of me towards the door, I caught her hand and made her stop. She turned to look at me, a question in her eyes.
“I love you, Lauren,” I said quietly. “Whatever happens in New York, whatever happened in the past, I want you to know that I love you.”
“Oh, Matthew,” she flew into my arms, kissing me. “I love you too.”
“I want us to be together, like this.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s get our own place in the city. Will you come back to me, live with me at my hotel?”
“Are you seriously not going home?”
I didn’t know how to tell her that the cold brick house where I had grown up had never been a home. I’d never felt comfortable there and I was beginning to think that I’d never belonged there to begin with.
“Home is where the heart is,” I said and kissed her again, holding her against me for the longest time.
While she went on ahead to the car, I checked my phone for messages.
Then I called the hospital and asked for the doctor who was treating my mother.
I waited while they called him to the phone.
“Dr. Horowitz? This is Matthew Waterstone.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Waterstone. Your mother is resting and comfortable.”
“What happened to her? Did she have a heart attack?”
