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He gives me a pitying look, one that says that he doesn’t believe Isa’s words, but for my sake, he’ll play along. “I’m sure he’ll be very excited to meet the new baby.”
With that, he leaves. Isa sits back down beside me and brushes a lock of hair from my face. “Hey,” she says with a weak smile.
“Hey,” I reply. “I know you don’t really like Drex, but thanks for giving him the benefit of the doubt back there.”
She shakes her head. “No, I should be apologizing to you. What I said after he left was way out of line. I know I should’ve done this months ago, but with everything going on, I—”
I take her hand and give it a squeeze. “It’s fine. I know you said it because you were looking out for me… Just like you’ve always done.”
“It’s not fine, but thanks.” She laughs, but tears glisten in her eyes. “You know, I never really thought love and romance and all that emotional stuff was meant for me.”
“That’s not –” I begin, but she holds up her free hand to stop me.
“I’m fine with it. Really. I’m not sure if I’m the type to settle down and get married. But all my life, I’ve felt a bit like an outsider for it. It sometimes felt like everyone else was speaking a language I couldn’t understand.”
She swallows, tears finally rolling down her cheeks. “You’re my best friend. My sister. And even before I lost my parents, Bianca was like a second mother to me. But then Drex came along, and I was so scared that I’d lose the only family I have left.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, opening my arms to offer her a hug. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
She sniffles and wraps her arms around me. “It’s so stupid and selfish, and I’m so sorry for the way I acted.”
“It’s not stupid,” I whisper and squeeze her tighter, both because we need it and because another contraction hit. “And you have to be one of the most selfless people I have ever met.”
She lets go, stepping back and wiping her eyes. “Thanks for saying that.”
I grab her wrist before she fully backs away. “I mean it. You’ve always been my rock, first with my mom and then with the baby. I love you, and I’d never abandon you or leave you behind.”
“Even if Drex comes back and doesn’t like me?” she asks, her voice small and almost childlike. “You said you guys are fated mates, or whatever. I don’t want to get in the way of that. And I don’t think we exactly got off to a good start on our first meeting.”
I laugh. “The night he proposed, he was already planning to move you into a guest cottage once we got a place together. He loves me enough to know that we’re a package deal.”
“Yeah, and no matter what, I’ll always be on your side.” She wraps her arms around me again and I wrinkle my nose, feeling another contraction. It’s not very painful, similar to the sensation of tensing a muscle. Is it just me or are they getting closer together?
“You okay?” she asks.
I nod. “Just a contraction. I’m fine.”
But actually, I’m not fine. Nothing is fine. The baby is coming, and a war is going on, and Mama is dead, and Drex is gone, and the world just feels so loud and overwhelming that I want to curl up and cry.
Even if the doctor promised that labor won’t hurt that bad, my heart hurts something horrible.
She shoots me a look that says she doesn’t buy it. “Do you need anything?”
“I was working on my baby go bag at home, and then I forgot all about it,” I admit. “Can you get it and some toiletries for me?” I ask. My face flushes. “And, uh, Mama’s favorite perfume.”
It feels a little ridiculous to ask for that. I’m in labor. Things are about to get gross. Between that and baby barf, diaper changes, and clean water shortages, I’m probably going to smell a bit ripe for the foreseeable future. At the rate the war is going, it might be for the rest of my life.
But asking for Mom’s perfume isn’t about smelling nice. It was her favorite scent, Lethe Lillies. When she was healthy and we were at peace, she wore it every day.
Every time I smell it, I think of her during the good times. If I spray some, I’m hoping that it will feel like she’s in the room with me, holding my hand as I deliver the grandchild she never got to meet.
Isa seems to understand because she nods, her eyes full of sorrow. “Of course.” She turns to leave.
“Do you think…“ I begin haltingly as I anxiously wring the scratchy sheets. Isa pauses in the doorway, waiting for me to articulate what I have to say. “Do you think I’ll be as good a mother as she was?”
Isa smiles radiantly. “Soph, you are going to be the best mom a kid could ever hope to ask for. And if somehow, against all odds, you aren’t, their Aunt Isa will smack some sense into you.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, though it’s undercut by another contraction. “Thanks, Isa.”
