Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“No. They need to let me in there. Your mother needs me.”
Leroy grips his father’s shoulder. “Dad, we have to let them work. They’ll tell us something when they can.”
The firmness of Leroy’s voice strikes me. Despite his fear, he’s taking charge—just like Lavonne would want him to. I reach out and squeeze his hand, offering what comfort I can.
All we can do now is wait.
The minutes seem to stretch into hours as the frantic activity in Lavonne’s room subsides. Nurses pass by, glancing our way with guarded expressions. I watch them all through the small window in the door, wishing someone would give us a sign—any indication of what’s happening.
After an agonizing stretch of time, the door opens and a doctor strides out, pulling off his gloves with a tired sigh. His face is drawn and lined with exhaustion.
“Mr. Robinson?”
Bob nods. “Yes? Is she okay?”
“I’m so sorry. We did all we could.”
His words hang in the air like a specter. Bob’s knees buckle under him as the doctor’s words sink in. Leroy catches his father just in time.
“No, no, no...” Bob folds in on himself and he sinks farther into Leroy’s embrace. His shoulders shudder.
“Leroy,” I say quietly, reaching out to touch his arm.
His eyes meet mine, and within them I see a reflection of my own grief—only it’s so much worse for him. This is his mother. The woman who carried him, raised him, loved him as no one else could.
“You may go in to say goodbye,” the doctor says to me.
I nod to Leroy. “You and Bob go in. I’ll wait here.”
Leroy shakes his head. “You go first, See. He’s not ready yet.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. Should I go in? I already saw her. How do I say goodbye?
I brace myself and walk in. Nurses are still crowded around, but the machines are no longer lit.
One of the nurses smiles sympathetically at me. “We’ll give you a moment.”
I nod, tears welling in my eyes as I sit down where I was only moments before, when Lavonne was trying to tell me something. “Take care... of...” she said.
Of Leroy, of course. That’s what she wanted. She wanted us back together. I reach to take her hand. It’s already so cold.
“I love you, Lavonne,” I say. “I’m so sorry this happened. You were so full of life. You didn’t deserve this.” I wipe back a tear. “I know you want Leroy and me together. I...I’ll try, I guess. For you. But I can’t promise. I would if I could, but I can’t.”
A spark flicks into me, seemingly from her hand. I widen my eyes, but then a sense of ethereal calm settles over me. Lavonne is here, in some ghostly way. She wants me happy as much as she wants Leroy happy. That’s what was important to her. Leroy. And me. Not necessarily us together.
She’s here, and she understands.
And I know.
I know that my future is not with Leroy, and Lavonne understands.
EPISODE 147
THE FOUR OF US
Ariel
The world spins as Alex pulls me against him, his kiss fierce and demanding. He tastes like salt and coffee, and beneath it all is a passion I remember from our date.
I return the kiss, curling my fingers into his hair. The intensity makes my knees weak, as if I’m standing on the edge of a thunderstorm about to break. His touch sends shivers through me, and my heart races like the country wind. The world fades away, leaving just the two of us.
Marc didn’t kiss me like this. Zion didn’t either.
Neither did Sebastian.
Alex breaks away, but his hands remain on my waist, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of my sundress. He’s panting lightly, his chest rising and falling against mine.
“Okay.” He grins. “I said I had a few ideas. That was one. How about another?”
I raise a brow at him, breathless. “And what would that be?”
Alex’s smile grows wider. He takes my hand and leads me up the beach to a small cove I hadn’t noticed before. Hidden between two cliffs, it’s a little oasis of calm and privacy.
He sits down on the sand, spreads his legs, and invites me to sit between them. I tuck close against him, my back to his chest.
“We talked a lot on our date,” he says. “I know you like to fish, that you love Southern cooking—especially sweet potato pie—and that your kisses can set a man on fire. But I want to know more. I want to know the way you take your coffee in the morning, what book you’re currently reading, the song that’s been stuck in your head, your favorite color when you were a kid.”
I smile to myself. He said he could fall for me. Maybe he wasn’t kidding.
We’re here, sitting with our heels brushing against the cool sand, talking about our likes and dislikes as though we’re on a real date and not in this complicated game of love.