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“Wish me luck,” Luke croons as he walks out of the room.
I grab my purse and coat and start to leave Eric’s office to wait for Luke in the lobby when I turn around.
“Eric,” I say, only to find he’s already standing in front of his desk and looking at me as if he, too, wanted to say something.
I speak first. “About how things ended at the engagement party, I apologize. My life is messy, and it’s in no way conducive to a relationship. I led you on at a time when I’m not ready. Not for a proposal or a one-night stand—or as it turns out, for a romance of any kind. My friends thought I was, and my mother prays I am, but I’m just not there. I haven’t been for a really long time. You deserve to meet someone wonderful. I hope you find her.”
“You were always honest with where you stood. I pushed a bit.”
“Maybe in another time, I would have given myself more freely, but the truth is, I’ve been tied up for a long time.”
“I can see that.” He moves closer as he slides a hand inside his suit pants. “Jillian, I do want you to be aware of what a diagnosis like this could mean. Caring for someone with Huntington’s can destroy even the best of hearts.”
“Ainsley’s my daughter. I wouldn’t blink at tending to her.”
“I’m not talking about Ainsley.”
I understand what he’s referring to. “As you said, Eric, one step at a time.”
He grimaces in understanding. “I wish you the best. The next time I see Luke will probably be for his blood draw, so long as he passes our examination. I don’t give these tests lightly. If he’s positive and already made such rash judgments in the past, be careful of what he could do if the worst turns out to be true.”
His warning is felt through my soul, like a vise is gripping it tightly. “I know.”
I head down to the lobby to get a bottle of water.
As expected, the appointment is long, and Luke texts that he’ll meet me when he’s done.
I take a seat at a table near the hospital’s café near the main entrance.
I’m sipping my latte and scrolling through a website discussing the use of in vitro fertilization to eradicate genetic disorders when the nearby elevator chimes. It’s sounded quite a few times since I’ve been in here, but the clanking of heels, paired with the intense smell of Baccarat permeating the air, I look up with a snap to see my mother approaching me.
She slides her sunglasses off her face and looks down at me with disdain. “What are you doing here?”
My phone falls off my leg and onto the floor. I retrieve it and place it in my bag. “How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t. Are you here to see Eric?”
“I just saw him.”
She folds one arm and gestures with the other with the flick of her wrist. “That’s wonderful. I’m glad to see you’re getting further acquainted.”
I sit back and cross my legs. “Actually, we won’t be seeing each other anymore. I’m here with a friend who has an appointment with him.”
“With a geneticist? What kind of friend?”
I lift my chin and declare, “Ainsley’s father.”
Her perfectly squared, chiffon-covered shoulders drop. “Ainsley’s father. Please. I’ve had enough of the theatrics from you, Jillian. You …”
She blinks excessively while fiddling with her sunglasses. Her shoulders curl in as she opens her hands and waits for me to tell her I’m joking. Her eyes dart around the room and then back to me as she squeamishly lowers her head, angling it out and waiting for me to continue.
I don’t.
She takes the seat beside me and leans in real close. “That ridiculous story you told me the other day. That …” Her brows lower as she tilts her head and keeps her voice even lower. “That story wasn’t true, was it?”
“It was,” I say with a deep exhale.
Her sunglasses fall to the table as her hands splay out while she processes this information. The cringe of disgust in her face is evident.
