Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“Do you want to be present when we remove her?”
“Yes.” No hesitation there either.
“Would you like to call your husband or a loved one when we take off her tubes?”
I thought about it briefly. Cal was in London. Dylan was in med school. Tate was busy running an empire and fighting the crime lords. He didn’t have time for this. Besides, he’d be irritable and selfish, knowing her death meant the dissolution of our marriage.
“No.” I smiled politely. “I don’t need anyone with me. I’ll do it alone.”
“This woman is the baddest bitch I’ve ever known,” Dylan announced ten days later, bursting into Mum’s room with coffees and cider donuts.
I sat at my mother’s side, stroking her hair. It had been over a week since they removed the G-tube and IV hydration, and she was still very much alive and even urinated yesterday. Dr. Fields was puzzled but assured me she wasn’t suffering.
“Ten days without a feeding tube. I mean…wow.” Cal plucked the coffees from their holder, squinting at the names on them and handing me my oat milk cinnamon latte. “It’s gotta be some kind of record, right?”
“It’s surreal to actively wait for your parent to pass away.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I’ll need to extend my leave from work.”
“You don’t owe anyone an explanation.” Dylan plopped on a small blue couch in the corner of the room, pulling her legs into a crisscross. “You are fucking your boss.”
Enzo stood by the door, reading a K-drama on his phone. Well, he claimed it was a book. To me, it looked like straight-up manga porn. “Tsk. Always a lady.”
“You got a problem with my language?” Dylan whirled sideways, pointing at him. “Keep your judgment to yourself, and fuck the patriarchy.”
“What a coincidence. My middle name is Patriarchy.” Enzo smirked. “Wanna go somewhere private?”
“She’s happily married.” I wagged a finger at him. “Don’t flirt.”
“He can flirt, but he’s not getting any,” Dylan announced. “I did get him coffee, though.”
“You don’t know how I take my coffee.” Enzo’s grin broadened. He was letting more of his personality slip past the exterior.
“Okay, guys? We’re in the presence of a spirit who’s currently transitioning to a higher place.” Cal rubbed my back in circles, glaring between them accusingly.
“Her spirit ain’t going nowhere.” Dylan took a pull of her coffee. “This woman is stronger than all of us combined.”
I fluffed Mum’s pillow behind her, checked that her fuzzy socks were pulled up, and put another coat of lip balm on her dry lips. “This can’t be comfortable for her.”
I’d already spoken to a funeral home in Wimbledon. Everything was ready. And as horrible as it sounded, so was I. I had barely left my mother’s side since Dr. Fields took out her tubes. Only briefly to sleep at home. I slept in Tate’s room but didn’t share her condition with him. He didn’t ask.
“Is there any way to accelerate the procedure?” Cal asked softly.
Dylan threw Enzo a sassy look. “Why don’t we ask him? He’s the expert.”
“Stop picking a fight with my bodyguard,” I reprimanded my friend. “And no, unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do. She wasn’t supposed to…last this long.”
Dylan chewed on her lower lip, contemplating.
I turned to them. “This can’t go for much longer, can it? I mean, how long can you last without any food or liquids?”
Cal checked on her phone. “Eight to twelve weeks, according to Google.”
“Jesus Christ.” I massaged my temples. “Mum is stubborn. I’m sure she’ll wait until the very last minute.”
“What’s her full name?” Dylan’s thumbs flew over her phone screen. “I’ll ask my mother to pray. She’s a devout Catholic. Super tight with God.”
“How do you know?” I smiled.
“She prayed I’d find a man who’d love me exactly the way I am, and I did. That must be higher intervention.”
I gave her my mother’s full name.
“That’s not a bad idea.” Cal flashed a tender smile. “We do need a miracle.”
I dug the bases of my palms into my eye sockets. “What we need is an exorcist.”
“That’s unnecessarily harsh. I just got here.” Tate’s voice made me jump out of my skin. He strode through the door, holding bags of takeout.
Blasé and draped in his Kiton work suit, no one would guess the same man had taken five lives over the past four months.
“I was talking about my mother.” Heat spread across my cheeks. “She is comatose.”
Dylan and Cal exchanged confused looks, surprised he didn’t already know.
He put the takeout down on a credenza. It was Cuban; I could tell by the smell of ropa vieja, lechon asado, and yuca con mojo. Some of Mum’s favorites. He walked over to me and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Why an exorcist?”
Worming out of his embrace, I cleared my throat. “We disconnected her from her feeding tubes ten days ago, but she’s still hanging on.”