Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Once I sit, though, I notice how she keeps her face turned away from me, she sniffles, and that sound alone makes the heat in my chest cool a few degrees. “What's really happening? What's with the secrecy? I thought we were past that point.”
“I'm sorry.” She wipes under her eyes, sighing before turning my way. “I'm not trying to be secretive, I'm not. It's just I don't know what to do.”
“About what? Don't you know by now you don't need to go through things by yourself? That's why I'm here. Whatever it is, we'll find a way through it.”
She blows out a long breath, puffing her cheeks. “Last night. You were wondering why I felt sort of bad after I came upstairs.”
She's putting it mildly. She came upstairs a different person from the one I had dinner with. The girl whose hand I held as we walked into the house sparkled with optimism and dreams for the future. By the time she stepped into the bathroom, where I'd run a bubble bath for the two of us, the light was gone. The sparkle. It was apparent she fought to hide what she was feeling, but the damage had already been done. No amount of questioning—gentle, always—got me anywhere.
“You're ready to tell me about it?”
“Don't get on my case, please. I feel bad enough as it is.” With another sigh, she looks me in the eye. “I think Tatum's upset about the baby, and she's pushing me away. Also, it's really creepy the way she spends all day sitting next to that urn. I'm sorry, but it's how I feel. And I'm worried about her.”
She folds her arms, staring at her lap. “And then I told her we could spend time together today, but instead, we're taking this last-minute trip to the doctor. Yet another reason for her to resent me.”
“I doubt she resents you. That's not how she operates.”
“It's not how she used to operate. Nothing about her is the same as it used to be, except for how stubborn and pigheaded she is. I went in to see her, and she was distant and sort of cold. Here we are, happy and hopeful, and she's…”
She is unwilling to get help. That's the problem. “I'll talk to her.”
“You've already tried. I don't think anything you say to her will be enough.”
I know it isn't. I also know she refused to speak to the therapist I brought in last week and then refused to speak to me for five days afterward. I received a chilly hey yesterday, which sadly was a step up.
“You can't put this on yourself,” I remind her as gently and kindly as I can. She doesn't need to be upset, not when she's already had more than enough reason to be. What she needs now is peace, protection. There's no choice but to swallow back the burning impulse to take control, which I know by now would only make things immeasurably worse.
“I can't help it. She's been a sister to me all these years. I want…” A tiny laugh bursts out of her. “I want to be excited over the baby without feeling guilty, but I can't because every time I look at her I feel like I'm rubbing that joy in her face.”
Taking one of her soft, smooth hands between mine, I murmur, “You can't control anyone else's reactions. You can only give them space and time to adjust to change.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Listen to you. Did you hand in your criminal degree and go to school to be a shrink overnight?”
“I might have had a chat with the doctor, myself. In hopes of learning how to handle this all. I want to be supportive and help Tatum, but you can't help someone who doesn't want to help themselves.”
Finally, she leans against me, and I stroke her hair. “I feel bad for being happy.”
“In her heart, she wouldn't want that. I know it. I'm sure you do, too.”
“I guess I do,” she admits. “Still, it's hard because I see how sad she is, and how happy I am, so it just doesn't feel right.”
“I understand, only let's try to focus on what a good day this should be. We get to see the baby, and maybe if we're lucky, we can find out if it's a boy or a girl?”
Bianca frowns, “I'm sorry, but I think it's still too early for that. Without a blood test, at least. I was looking it up online.”
“Either way. I want to ensure everything's where it needs to be and that you're healthy. In time Tatum will come around.” Now I'm talking out of my ass, because the fact is I can't guarantee that. I don't know what it will take to make my daughter happy again.
“This doesn't look like a doctor's office,” Bianca points out when we pull to a stop in front of a small, nondescript building that could easily go unnoticed if someone wasn't looking for it. The rest of the office complex was once a part of what was torn down years ago, with only this single structure remaining.