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“Of course not,” she says. “Maybe I’ll call them tonight.”
I smile. “That would be nice. They’d love to hear your voice.”
“Derek,” she starts, and then pauses. She takes a sip of water and then starts again. “About Eli calling me Mama—”
I cut her off. “It happens, right?”
“Has it happened before?” she asks.
I shake my head slowly. “No, but it just means that he’s attached to you. We knew that was going to happen.”
“I think that’s another reason why I need to cut my hours,” she says, and my heart aches again. I know there are other reasons she wants to cut back on her hours, and it’s my fault.
She is doing what I wanted all along, pulling away. Last week, hell, yesterday, I would have gladly said yes, so why does it destroy me to hear her talking about stepping back? Leaving us.
“About us, Kenna,” I try to begin, but she holds up her hand.
“I know how you feel about that,” she says, although she doesn’t. I’ve only figured out how I feel about it recently, but I don’t contradict her. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
I keep quiet, not sure what to say next.
“Is there anything you need?” I ask. “Something to eat?”
She shakes her head, and I realize it’s a little gingerly, like her neck is stiff. It’s a symptom I’ve noticed with Eli.
“I can’t keep much down,” she admits. “But if you’d be so kind as to bring some of my books from home...”
“Of course,” I say easily. “Write me a list and I’ll bring whatever you need.”
“Where are the kids?” she asks.
“With my mother,” I say with a sigh. “She’s been helping me out a lot since Eli got sick.”
Kenna swallows. “Maybe you don’t need me as much as you think you do.”
I look up into her blue eyes. “That’s not true,” I say quietly. “We need you at home, Kenna.”
“At least until I go back to school,” she says.
I look away. “At least until then.”
”You didn’t have to come,” she says almost irritably, looking right at me.
I lift my head to look at her again. “You don’t want me to visit?”
Kenna bites her lip. “I didn’t say that.”
I chuckle low in my throat. “You’re contradicting yourself, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” she says softly. “Not if you don’t mean it.”
Her blue eyes are watery.
“What if I do mean it?” I ask in a mumble under my breath, and Kenna blinks at me.
“What did you say?”
I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say, my heart beating too hard. I can’t tell her now how I feel about her. This is not the time or the place. She is in the hospital, inside a plastic bubble and I can’t even touch her. And there’s too much baggage between us. Besides, Kenna deserves someone younger and less jaded. But I am selfish. I want her with me. I want to tell her that I’m falling for her, that my kids love her as a mom, that I want us to give this thing a try and to hell with what is right or wrong with our age gap. But I want to show it to her too. I want to hold her in my arms while I show her with my kiss, with my touch, that she is it for me.
