I nod, smearing the tear off my face.
“Well, okay,” she whispers.
A nurse pops her head in the door before walking in fully. She smiles sadly at me.
“I hate to tell you this, but visiting hours are over,” she says. “Dara is in stable condition and will probably be released tomorrow. You can come back when visiting hours start at ten in the morning.”
“I can’t leave her alone. She was nearly killed. Look at her.”
“Wade, I’ll be fine,” Dara says.
“Sir, I understand,” the nurse says. “I honestly do. But we’re getting ready to move her upstairs to a room. There’s a strict no visitor policy right now due to the state of the world. I hope you can understand that.”
I hang my head.
When I walk out of here, it’ll give Dara time to think. And if she’s smart, she’ll realize that I let her walk into a lion’s cage alone.
It could’ve killed her.
And she deserves better—so much better.
I stand and kiss her forehead, letting my lips linger against her skin. She reaches up and touches the side of my face. I can feel her body shake as she cries.
I don’t say anything. I don’t know what more I can say. I know I can’t verbalize goodbye, so why speak?
She deserves better. So much better.
With a long glance, I turn on my heel and walk out.
FORTY
WADE
I’ve never watched the sun rise from the kitchen table before.
I’m reminded that it’s where Dara likes to have her coffee so she can feel the warmth of the morning rays. No amount of warmth right now can make me feel alive.
Eliza handled me not coming in today well—better than I expected. I’ve avoided calls from Oliver as well as from my mom. The only call I haven’t gotten is the one I hoped to get: from Dara.
My clothes stink like the hospital. The odor is embedded in my hair, and a shower would do me some good. Except I know she’ll call as soon as my phone isn’t right in front of me.
It’s how life works.
I hoped that I would have been able to justify things more by the time the morning arrived. That maybe by dawn, I would think that staying with Dara would work out. That it was the right answer. That she was the one for me.
She is the one for me. The thought of not seeing her again destroys me in a way I know I haven’t fully absorbed. My life is already colder. My heart harder. My soul dim.
But this isn’t about me—it’s about her. It’s about doing what’s best for Dara. And it’s obvious that doing what’s best is not being with me. After all, she got hurt because of me. Because I wasn’t there for her even though I knew that I should’ve been.
My mom is wrong. I will never make a great husband and certainly never a good father.
Why? Why am I this way? I’m so acutely detailed with every other part of my life. I’m regimented. Bold. Decisive. Yet when it comes to women …
They nearly die.
I jump as my phone buzzes. I whip it off the table.
My heart pounds so hard that I can barely concentrate on the words written on the device.
Dara: Rusti is taking me home. I was released. In case you might come by.
I wait for more.
Nothing comes.
Rusti is taking me home.
In case you might come by.
I run my hands over my face and feel my heart break all over again.
She’s done with me. I’ve let her down, and she knows it. It’s unforgivable.
I can’t blame her.
I’ll blame myself for the rest of my life.
She didn’t even ask if I wanted to pick her up. She didn’t assume I would be by to see her. Because she doesn’t want me around.
Because she doesn’t need me.
I get to my feet and text her back.
Me: I’d like to see you today. Just for a little bit. Would that be okay?
Dara: That’s fine. I’ll be at home.
That’s fine.
My heart breaks.
As I learned from my mother, those two words together mean the exact opposite.
I’m fine means that nothing is fine at all.
My spirit falls.
My heart breaks.
My life is effectively over.
Dara
“Do you want to talk or sleep?” Rusti fluffs the pillow under my head. “I’ll lie beside you, and we can chat or nap. Your call.”
I want to sleep. I want to close my eyes and drift off to a time before yesterday when my life wasn’t in shambles.
My face hurts the most from crying all night. The nurse finally gave me something to help settle me, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling.
“Did you actually tell him that you’re pregnant?” Rusti asks, curling up in front of me. “Because I missed that part if you did.”
“He knows.”
“How?”
I don’t know.
“I think the doctor must’ve told him,” I say, my voice hollow.