Chapter 4
I took one slow breath.
"You're not getting my money, my credit, or my signature. And you need to tell Mom and Dad that any further attempt to use my identity will be reported."
Jason's voice turned sharp.
"You know what your problem is? You think being a single mom makes you some kind of hero."
I gripped the phone.
"Goodbye, Jason."
"Wait—"
I hung up.
Then I blocked his number.
The following morning, Layla opened her eyes.
Really opened them.
Not the exhausted half-glance she'd managed the day before.
She looked straight at me.
"Mommy?"
I leaned so close I nearly knocked over the chair.
"Hi, baby."
Her voice was scratchy.
"Did I miss pancake day?"
I started laughing and crying at the same time.
Because my daughter had spent three days fighting pneumonia, and her first concern was whether she'd missed Saturday pancakes.
"No, sweetheart. We can have pancake day whenever you want."
She considered that.
"With strawberries?"
"With all the strawberries in the world."
She smiled.
It was the smallest smile I'd ever seen.
And the most beautiful.
A doctor came in later and explained that her oxygen levels were improving. The treatment was working. They still needed to monitor her carefully, but things were moving in the right direction.
For the first time since we'd arrived, I let myself imagine taking her home.
I imagined her purple pajamas.
Her ridiculous collection of stuffed animals.
Her tiny shoes abandoned beside the couch.
I imagined complaining about crayons on the kitchen table.
I'd never wanted ordinary life so badly.
Then my mother arrived.
Not alone.
She brought my father.
And Jason.
All three of them walked into the ICU waiting area as if they were attending a business meeting.
I saw them through the glass doors.
My mother wore the same pearl earrings she'd worn to Jason's engagement party.
Dad carried a folder.
Jason held his phone.
Nobody carried flowers.
Nobody carried a stuffed animal.
Nobody even looked toward Layla's room.
Andrea stepped beside me.
"Are these your visitors?"
I stared at the folder in Dad's hand.
"No," I said.
"They're not."
My mother spotted me and immediately marched across the waiting area.
"There you are!"
She threw her hands into the air.
"Do you have any idea what you've put us through?"
I stood up slowly.
Behind her, my father opened his folder.
Jason remained near the doors.