Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“You see what you want to see in women, Gray.”
Shut the fuck up, Max.
I deserve more.
I couldn’t argue with that one. Layla deserved the world at her feet.
Oddly, the one that hurt the most wasn’t even a con. It was the only thing she could come up with as a pro.
I love him, even though I don’t want to.
By the time Layla and I were ready to turn in, I’d had too much to drink and wanted to sleep just so I could pretend tonight never happened. Slipping into bed behind her, I wrapped my entire body around hers. My arms clutched tight around her waist, while my body curved to envelop hers. It couldn’t have been too comfortable for her, but I needed it.
I really fucking needed it.
Pressing my lips to her shoulder, I wanted to tell her everything she was concerned about was going to be fine. But I couldn’t be that selfish.
Instead, I whispered. “I want you to be happy more than anything.”
She turned in bed to face me. It was dark, but I could see her face.
“Gray…I—”
A cell phone ringing cut her off. It took a moment to realize it was coming from the end table on my side. My first reaction was to ignore it, let it go to voicemail. But then I remembered I had a daughter now.
Reaching over and grabbing the phone, I tensed at seeing Max’s name on the screen. It was eleven o’clock at night. I sat up as I swiped to answer.
“What’s up?”
Her voice was shaky. “I just called an ambulance. I’m having a lot of trouble breathing.”
Chapter 32
* * *
Gray
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Shhh…” I stroked Ella’s hair and swayed back and forth with her until her cries began to slow. The front of her hair was soaked with the tears she’d shed. It killed me to see her so upset. And I didn’t like having her in a germ-infested hospital waiting room while doctors finished with Max’s tests. But what choice did I have at one in the morning?
Layla had come with me, even though I’d told her it wasn’t necessary. Looking at her face, I wished I’d tried a little harder to get her to stay. She looked freaked out, and I couldn’t blame her. I was fucking freaked out, too.
When we’d arrived at the Emergency Room, the ambulance had already brought Max in, and a woman from Social Services was sitting with Ella. Max had stopped breathing twice in the ambulance on the way over—completely flatlined. They were able to revive her, but the reality of the situation smacked me right in the face. This is really happening. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But soon enough. And I wasn’t ready for it. Neither was the poor little girl in my arms.
“Mr. Westbrook?” a doctor in blue scrubs called from the doorway of the waiting room.
“That’s me.” I walked over, and Layla stood and joined me.
“I’m Dr. Cohen, one of the oncology surgeons on staff here. Your wife is stabilized now. We’ve inserted a tube down her throat to help her breathe. One of her tumors is located near the esophagus, which caused some food particles to get stuck. Over time they’ve built up and caused swelling, which further compromised her air passage.”
“So she’s going to be fine?”
The doctor frowned. “For today. We’re hoping now that the passage has been cleared, her swelling will go down, and the tube can come out in a day or two. But I must make you aware that it’s just a Band-Aid, Mr. Westbrook.” His eyes drifted to Ella in my arms.
Her eyes were wide open, but she was just staring into space without blinking. I wasn’t sure if she was listening, much less comprehending what we were talking about, but he obviously wanted to be frank and felt he couldn’t.
I flashed my eyes to the doctor, then Ella, then back to him, acknowledging that we’d do our best to speak in code. “Can the blockage be cleared permanently?”
“She has an advanced directive. The typical methods we might try are not available to us.”
Translation—Max had legally called it quits.
“Okay.”
“We have had some success with PDT—photodynamic therapy. A light-activated drug is injected, which collects more cancer cells than normal ones. Then a scope is put down the throat and into the lungs, and a laser light kills the cells we’ve collected. A few days later, we go back in and collect those dead cells. It’s an option, but as of now, not one we have consent for. Perhaps you can talk to her about it once she’s off the ventilator. For now, we’ll need to take it one day at a time. As I said, your wife is stable, so you should probably go home and get some rest. She has some personal belongings with her that you can take or have locked in the hospital safe before you go.”