Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“Did you like hanging out with us?” I ask.
He looks up at me, a big grin on his face. “Better than listening to Vera yell at the people reporting the news.”
“How would you feel about living here all the time?” Enzo asks, his tone gentle and curious.
Taylor frowns, making my heart plummet. “I don’t want to.”
Tears well in my eyes, but I force a smile. “It’s okay.”
“I just…” Taylor looks down at his hands. “I just wouldn’t want to leave. I think it will hurt too much.”
Daniel slides out of his chair and sits on his knees in front of Taylor. “What if we kept you forever?”
Taylor jerks his head my way. “Forever?” Then he frowns again. “I’m sick, though. People don’t want a sick kid.”
A tear races down my cheek. “Do you think a healthy kid wants a sick mom?”
He scowls. “Any kid would be lucky to have you as a mom.”
“But not you?” I challenge, another tear leaking out.
His bottom lip wobbles. “Especially me, but…” He starts to cry. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
I hug him to me. “We want you to be ours, Taylor. We’ll make it happen as long as you want this.”
“I do,” he sobs. “So much.”
When we pull apart, Daniel takes his hand and then takes mine. “Being sick doesn’t make you less of a person or any less deserving of a family.”
“What happens if I get worse?” Taylor asks, frowning.
“Then you have us to get you through it,” Daniel says. And then he winks. “I may be Dr. Dum-Dum, but I know a thing or two about helping sick patients.”
“So what do you say?” I urge, smiling at him. “Want to be sick together and make this old man wait on us hand and foot?”
He giggles. “Would I be Taylor Dum-Dum?”
“Totally. You don’t think I’d be the only one taking that silly last name, do you?” I tease, tickling him.
“Hey now,” Daniel says. “Dum-Dum has a nice ring to it.”
“Yes,” Taylor agrees. “I want to live with you guys. Even if I have to change my last name to Noodle Butt.”
“You said butt.” I snort.
Enzo chuckles. “You definitely fit in with these two clowns, Tay.”
Taylor simply beams.
And all the broken parts in my body don’t matter because my heart just got fuller.
“Do you think they’re coming?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.
Daniel lifts his brows. “You really think they wouldn’t?”
I force out a laugh. Truth is, I don’t know. Dad and Landon were so stoic when I told them about my being added to the transplant list. Quiet and almost emotionless. To their defense, I dropped it like a bomb and then had to get to class. It’s been a week since I told them and a lot has happened. My life has been a whirlwind of readying our house for Taylor.
He’ll be ours soon.
Officially.
We’ve filed all the paperwork, went through the appropriate channels, and done the home study. It helps knowing a social worker, a few really good attorneys, and a judge. Daniel is well-connected in this community and when he needs a favor, they all come through to make it happen. Once the paperwork is complete, we’ll pick up Taylor and bring him here for good.
I’m thrilled.
And nervous.
I don’t know anything about being a mom. All I can do is try to be half the mom my own mother was and I feel like I’ll do okay. Plus, no one gets Taylor like I do. We connect on a level no one else does. He’s my dialysis buddy.
“They better hurry up,” I grumble. “Chicken is almost done.”
Daniel hugs me to him. “They’re coming.”
I’m just pulling away when I hear my dad’s voice. “Lauren!”
I jolt and turn just in time to see Dad barreling for me. He nearly tackles me with a hug. His grip is tight as he lifts me off the ground.
“Dad!” I cry out. “What’s gotten into you?”
“He won,” Landon says, entering in behind him.
“Won what?” I ask.
Dad finally releases me and yanks a folded piece of paper out. His eyes are wet with tears as he unfolds it. It’s not the same paperwork Daniel received, as his was a simple blood test that showed we were incompatible. This paperwork is a genetic tissue typing blood test result issued from my transplant coordinator.
“I was a fifty percent match,” Landon boasts, “but Dad still won.”
I blink in confusion.
“The best match for the recipient is six out of six antigens matching,” Dad says with a wide, teary smile.
“A zero mismatch,” Daniel utters from nearby.
“All six markers match,” Dad says, kissing my forehead. “You’re getting a kidney, baby girl.”
I’m frozen.
Stunned.
Simultaneously upset and overjoyed.
“Daddy…” I choke out a sob.
“Don’t say a word, sweetheart,” Dad says, pulling me back to his chest. “The transplant coordinator said we’re not out of the clear, but we’re off to one helluva start.”