falls or—
“Dean. Go.”
A raw feeling of helplessness surges inside me. I back down the stairs, suddenly hating this big house with all the staircases and floors, and the space that makes it necessary for us to text each other when we’re in different rooms.
I stop around the corner in the foyer, where at least I can hear her if she calls. My shoulders are tight with impatience. I wait for what feels like an interminably long time before I return.
Liv is no longer sitting on the stairs, which is a relief since that means she made it up okay. I stop in the bedroom doorway. Fear lashes through me.
She’s on her hands and knees, halfway between the bed and the bathroom, her face shiny with sweat and tears. Her back arches with a violent spasm of heaves. Vomit spills onto the carpet.
“Oh, Jesus, Liv…”
I rush to grab hold of her, haul her upright. She shakes her head, ineffectually pushing me away.
“Go away,” she rasps, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Liv…”
She manages to yank herself from my grip, retching with another spasm as she crawls toward the bathroom.
“Let me help you.” Panic burns in my chest.
“No!” She makes it to the bathroom, half closing the door behind her.
I shove it open, grabbing a hand towel and dampening it with cold water. Liv leans over the toilet, heaving so violently that her scarf slips off her head.
“Baby, please.” I get to my knees beside her and put the wet towel on the back of her neck. “I can…”
“Goddammit.” Tears spill from her eyes into the sweat on her cheeks. “Go away, please just go away.”
“Why won’t you let me help you?”
“I hate that you have to see me like this,” she cries.
For an instant, I can’t move. I pick up her scarf from the floor and push it into my pocket. She inhales and sits back, dragging her arm across her mouth.
“I’m not going away,” I tell her.
She looks at me, her eyes bloodshot.
“I’m not going away.” I move closer to her, putting my hand on her head. “I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together. We always have been. Every part of you, the best and the worst, belongs to me. I can take it. I’ll take anything for you.”
“I hate that I can’t even be a real wife to you anymore.”
My heart breaks a little. I run my hand over her shorn scalp.
“You’re real, beauty. There’s no one more real than you.”
She closes her eyes, then grabs for the toilet again. The sound of her vomiting echoes against the tile, a horrible retching like it’s tearing her insides out.
I tighten my grip on her and drag a few breaths into my lungs, battling the endless pain and fury that always lurk close to the surface. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. I force it to slow down, force my brain to focus.
Liv pulls herself away from the toilet, putting her hand on my shoulder as she gets to her feet. She’s sheet-white and shaking. I help her cross to the bed and get underneath the covers.
After she’s settled, I clean the vomit on the carpet and turn off the light. Liv’s body shudders with a sigh that makes her sound a thousand years old.
My vision blurs. I wait a few more minutes, until she shifts into the rhythm of sleep. Then I adjust the sheet around her, wipe the lingering sweat from her forehead, smooth my hand over her head.
I walk back downstairs just as the front door opens. The dark cloud lifts as Nicholas and Bella stomp in with a flurry of noise and chatter.
“Daddy,” Bella yells, flinging herself into my arms.
I hug her tightly, extending one arm toward Nicholas. I want to hold them both forever, but before long they’re squirming out of my arms and taking off their coats and hats.
“Hi, Dean.” Claire closes the door behind them. “I didn’t know you’d be home.”
“Yeah…uh, Liv had an appointment for a blood test, so I went with her.” I swallow hard and drag a hand across my eyes.
Claire looks at me perceptively and bends to help Bella take off her gloves.
“There’s a snack on the table for you,” she tells both children. “Go on in.”
Nicholas and Bella charge toward the sunroom. When they’re out of earshot, Claire moves closer to me.
“Not good, huh?” she asks in a low voice.
“The blood test came back okay,” I say. “But Liv is in pretty bad shape.”
“I’m sorry.” Claire