“Everything okay?”
I hold the photo up for Adam and wipe away tears.
“She had a little boy. Anthony,” I murmur.
“Wow. He’s so tiny.” He smiles. “Shall we go to the hospital?” he asks.
“How’s your mom?” I frown.
“Tired. They’ve altered her dosage, which is why she’s so vague. She’s asleep. We’ll come back next week.”
I nod. “Okay, then. Let’s go meet Anthony.”
“How long was she in labor?” he asks as we walk outside.
“I’m not sure. I spoke to Mom before and she wasn’t. Julian was on a plane, flying home. Maybe he waited for his daddy?” I grin.
“Maybe.”
I catch the flash of sadness in his eyes at the mention of his friend. They still hadn’t managed to repair the damage to their relationship.
Julian moved back to Seattle a few weeks ago, to be closer to Lily and the baby, but he was still tying up loose ends over in Vegas, which mean a lot of traveling back and forth.
He and Lily weren’t together, but they were determined to bring up their son together. I respected both of them a lot for that. The change in Lily over the last few months has been incredible. She’s like a different person. I guess having someone else to put first does that to you.
I get into the car when Adam opens my door. He walks around the front, then slides into the driver’s seat. I keep thinking about that photo and that little boy. I knew parts of the story, not really enough to be able to piece together what happened.
“It must’ve been hard for you, growing up.”
He glances at me, surprised by the sudden change in subject, but then he nods.
“It was,” he admits. “I lived with my aunt, not my mom for most of my later childhood, but the earlier years, before Tom …” His voice trails off. “It was hard, because we were too young to understand she wasn’t well.”
He stares straight ahead, as if he’s trying to find the right words. I reach over and slip my hand into his. I still shiver at the feel of his touch. I wish I knew what to say to him, but I don’t.
“I remember lying in my bed, listening to Tom cry out for Mommy, who’d locked herself in the closet because the voices were back,” he murmurs. His other hand grips the wheel tightly. “I took my anger and frustration out on other things. I did whatever I had to in order to survive. And then to forget.”
“What happened to Tom?” I ask softly.
“She killed him.”
He sighs, his jaw clenched. He breaks his hand free from mine and places it on the wheel too. He shakes his head, then rests it back against the seat.
“That night, she was convinced people were after us, and that they were going to torture us.” He swallows, pressing his lips together. “She thought if she did it first, she could spare us the pain. I came around. I woke up and saw Tom curled up on the floor next to me. I tried to …” He pauses. “It was too late.”
“God, I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “Mom was upstairs, in bed. She was unconscious, but they revived her.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper. He smiles at me and slips his hand into mine.
“You don’t need to say anything. It is what it is.” He shrugs.
“So many times, I blamed myself,” he whispers. “I was an angry kid. I know I made things even harder for her.”
“You were just a kid,” I remind him.
“I know, but I promised him I’d be there for him. Earlier, on the day he died, I was getting high in the park. At age seven,” he says with a harsh laugh. “I came back and she was out of control. Maybe if I’d stayed home …”
“It probably wouldn’t have made a difference,” I finish for him.
He shrugs. “I’ve forgiven her, but I know she’ll never forgive herself. The guilt eats away at her, until she gets so depressed that she’s suicidal.”
“I’m sorry,” I say honestly. “I hate that you had to go through all of that.”
“Now that I’ve succeeded in making this the most depressing six-month anniversary possible—”
“Anniversary?” I repeat, cutting him off.
My cheeks heat as I smile at him, because I had no idea. He winks at me and then he chuckles.
He nods. “Yep. Six months ago, today, you serenaded me—”
“You know, I really hated you that first day.” I grin. “So, unless we’re celebrating that, it’s not our anniversary.”
“You didn’t hate me,” he replies confidently. “You were head over heels for me the second you saw me. It was written all over your face.”
“I’m pretty sure it was shock and horror all over my face.” I laugh. “But okay. Happy anniversary.”
I lean over and kiss him, grazing my lips past his. He caresses my neck and presses his mouth firmly onto mine. I shiver, loving the way my heart still races when he kisses me.