“Not everyone has your life, Evelyn.”
I lifted my gaze to meet Graham’s somber expression. “Do you envy my life, Graham? I mean … my dad needed a new kidney, and my mom might not be alive in a year. We live paycheck to paycheck. My Jeep needs new tires, and my washing machine is ready to give out.”
“But if you called your parents right now … they’d be in their car on their way here,” he said.
There it was … Graham Porter had so much, but he didn’t have the things money couldn’t buy. He was right. My life was infinitely better. That made me sad for Lila. She deserved a family like mine. I wanted Graham and her to make the family they both didn’t have, but undoubtedly deserved.
“You can be so much better than your parents, but you’ll never have that chance if you don’t make your own family.”
“You can see your wife now,” a nurse whispered from the entrance to Ronin’s room.
I turned toward Ronin, smiling at his peaceful face, his soft brown skin, and his long, dark lashes resting on his cheeks. I had the best life. Ronin’s heart just needed to remember that and keep beating for me, Franz, and Anya. Before following Graham, I kissed Ronin on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
The glass doors to Lila’s room gave us a glimpse of her before we ever stepped foot inside. Graham stopped, taking a deep breath while reaching for my hand.
I squeezed it. “We love Lila the most,” I whispered.
He squeezed my hand in response, keeping his gaze on her. Nothing could have prepared me for seeing Lila with half of her face and skull bandaged, looking so lifeless. As Graham opened the door, the beeping monitor told us she was alive, but it was the only sign of life. I moved to one side of the bed as Graham took his place next to her on the other side.
“L-Lila …” His voice completely shattered.
My hand made a fist at my mouth as the room blurred behind the welling tears. His body collapsed over hers. He took her hand with both of his, resting his forehead next to her head on the pillow. Silent sobs racked his body.
Regret curled its relentless claws into my gut, punishing me for ever doubting his love for my best friend. Everything seemed so petty compared to that moment. How could I worry about her job, her becoming a mother, her losing her independence?
Life was about breaths and heartbeats.
A smile.
A wink.
The squeeze of a hand.
Sunrises and sunsets.
The rest … it was all extra.
When forced to choose what really matters, it all became so clear. This moment. The only moment.
I slipped out of the room, out of sight, and slid my phone from my pocket.
“Hello?” my dad answered in his middle-of-the-night voice.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“Evelyn …” his voice gained a bit more life, a deep tone of concern. “What’s wrong?”
Swallowing hard, I wiped my tears before taking a slow breath. I knew once I started to speak, everything would have to come out really quickly. “Lila was injured while skiing today. It was bad. She had surgery. Now, she’s in the ICU. Ronin saved her, but then his heart stopped beating, and we don’t know why. He’s okay now, but …” Covering my mouth with my hand to stifle my sobs, I fought to find another sliver of composure to keep talking. “I’m not. I’m not okay. I need you and Mom.”
That was it. No apologies for waking them. No apologies for asking my sick mom to make the trip to Aspen in the middle of the night. I knew what it meant to be a parent—that unconditional love thrived on being there for your children when they needed you the most. And while I had never battled cancer, I couldn’t imagine anything short of death itself keeping a mother from her child in pain.
“We’re on our way.”
I let the phone slide from my ear, hugging it to my chest. My heart felt ripped apart in too many directions.
My mom.
My young children.
Ronin.
Lila.
I couldn’t be everywhere at once and everything to everyone. I couldn’t fix all the broken pieces.
For the next twenty minutes, I stood outside of Lila’s room, watching Graham cling to her like a lost child. Unchecked tears flowed from his red eyes as he kissed the exposed side of her face and whispered things in her ear. Sometimes, he closed his eyes and lifted his face to the ceiling as if praying to a god who allowed so many bad things to happen that day.
As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I realized that if God existed, she and her infinite power might have been the reason we were at the hospital and not planning funerals. I didn’t know. But I knew how it felt to not believe in something as improbable as God, yet so desperately needing the hope that something was more powerful than myself and the imperfect and mortal doctors tending to my loved ones.