“I’m okay,” I say, almost mechanically. I’m putting on a good show of having it all together, laughing and joking with my mom, taking charge by asking all the right questions, trying to be a rock for her. But inside I’m a mess, and I will be until I see my dad for myself.
She smiles as if she sees right through me, but all she does is place her palms on my chest and looks at me. “I’m here for you, Liam. Just so you know. Whatever you need.”
Cara seems to know exactly the right thing to say, and I wonder if she’s been through something similar in her life. Before I can ask, my mom reappears, her shrewd eyes taking in the scene she walked in on.
Cara steps to the side, dropping her hands from my waist, but before she can move too far away, I grab her hand and interlock my fingers with hers again. I don’t want her anywhere but by my side right now.
It doesn’t escape Mom’s notice. “So, how did you two meet?” She smiles sweetly at Cara, but I know her curiosity is barely restrained.
“At the swim club,” I say, then laughingly tell her the story of Cara spilling her drink all over me.
“Hmm,” Mom says, her eyes still darting back and forth between us. “And how long have you been seeing each other?”
“Oh, just a few days,” Cara says, waving her hand dismissively, as if we’re barely more than friends.
Fuck that. I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her more tightly to me.
“Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me more,” Mom says, a mischievous smile playing at her lips.
I know she can’t wait to get the dirty details about this woman who is obviously getting to me. Normally I’d do anything to avoid a conversation like this, but right now it’s almost welcome compared to the alternative of sitting around in silence thinking about what’s going on with the doctors and my dad down the hall.
“You know,” she begins, “I don’t think Liam has let me meet a single one of his dates since he was in high school.”
I laugh, trying to make light of it. “That’s because you always mixed up their names.”
Her eyebrows arch. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have changed girlfriends so fast.” She looks at Cara and gives her a conspiratorial little wink. “You know, Liam and his brother had new girlfriends every single week. I never knew what to expect with those two.”
Cara’s gaze flicks to mine at the mention of a brother. Not ready to go there, I change the subject. “So, what about you, Cara? It’s only fair you tell us about all your boyfriends since my mother is intent to air all my dirty laundry.”
She laughs. “I think everyone who has ever seen a tabloid knows all about your dirty laundry, Liam Donovan.”
I roll my eyes and laugh, but for whatever reason, I don’t want Cara thinking about me as that guy. She doesn’t linger on it, though, and entertains us with a few funny stories of how her parents embarrassed her growing up.
My mom sits there and watches us, and when I catch her eye a few minutes later, she has a knowing smile on her face like she sees something I don’t. I give her a questioning look, but she simply keeps chatting with Cara like their old friends.
I know I should be freaked the fuck out that my mom and a woman I’m dating—because let’s face it, it’s more than one date and I don’t intend on this being the last, either, so we’re dating—are sitting here discussing childhood stories. But I’m not. It feels oddly normal.
And I have no idea what to make of that.
Cara
“Mrs. Donovan?” A tall man in a long white coat asks, reading the name from a stack of document in his hands.
“That’d be me,” Liam’s mom says, going up to her feet so fast you’d say she’s still in her twenties. Both Liam and I follow suit, eager to hear whatever the doctor has to say. “Any news?”
“Yes,” the doctor says with a sigh and, for a moment, I ready myself for the bad news. But then he cracks a semi-serious smile and the lines in his face soften. “Mr. Donovan is going to be okay. We’ll still have to run some tests, just for precaution, but this wasn’t a life-or-death situation. You acted fast, Mrs. Donovan, and you got him here in time.”
“Thank God,” she exhales, one hand over her heart, and I breathe out in relief as well, feeling as if a heavy weight had just been lifted off my shoulders. Even though I barely know the Donovan family, I simply couldn’t help but empathize with the darkness of the whole situation.
“Well, he’s going to have to make a few adjustments to his diet, and some physical exercise will help as well. But if he’s willing to make these changes, I believe Mr. Donovan’s heart won’t trouble him that much for the rest of his life.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Liam says and, even though his voice is steady and poised as always, I can notice a slight tone of relief in his words. “Do you think we can go and see him?”
“Absolutely,” the doctor (Dr. Anderson, according to the name tag hanging from the breast-pocket of his coat) nods, waving with his arm toward the long corridor to his right, the one leading to the room where Liam’s father is. “He’s in room 213. But make it quick, please. Mr. Donovan needs some rest today.”
“Will do,” Liam replies, and then he turns on his heels and starts marching down the corridor, his mother and I trailing after him. Stopping in front of the room with the 213 number plaque, Liam grabs at the handle and turns it, pushing the door open and stepping inside carefully.
The room is small, but there?