me, absorbing the weight of him, the sound of his breath. A cracked, jagged ache pushes at my chest. I fight it down, refusing to let it anywhere near my son.
I don’t think I can sleep, but I’m lulled into a shallow doze that breaks only when dawn light seeps through the windows. I detach myself from Nicholas and check my phone for messages about Liv—nothing—before going to shower and change.
Downstairs, I make coffee, text Frances to tell her I might not make it to campus later, and start making breakfast for the kids.
“Morning.”
Startled, I turn. Claire is standing in the doorway. It takes me a second to remember she stayed the night.
“Sorry.” She grimaces at my reaction. “This must be so awful for you.”
My automatic response is that it’s not as awful for me as it is for Liv—but it’s a useless comparison. I’m not the one who’s sick.
Instead I shrug and gesture to the coffeepot. “Coffee?”
“Sure.”
I pour her a cup and leave it on the counter while I go back upstairs to wake the kids. I call the hospital, and the nurse tells me Liv is asleep and “stable,” whatever that really means.
I want to hear that she’s fine. I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
“Claire is going to take you to school,” I tell the kids as they sit at the table eating cereal. “I’m going to see Mom in the hospital.”
“I want to go,” Nicholas says, frowning down at his Cheerios.
“Me too,” Bella chimes in.
“I’ll pick you up after school and take you to see her,” I say, though I’m not at all sure the nurses will let them into her room. “Or she might even be home by then.”
“I want to see her now.” Nicholas drops his spoon with a clatter, his chin setting with stubbornness.
“You can’t see her now, but—”
“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” Bella chants, pumping her fists in the air.
Faint desperation rises in my chest. “Come on, both of you finish your breakfast and get dressed. I need your help.”
“No!” Nicholas pushes his cereal bowl off the table. The plastic bounces off the tile floor, spilling milk and a few Cheerios.
“Uh oh,” Bella remarks, leaning over to examine the mess.
“Nicholas.” My voice sharpens along with my irritation. “Enough. Upstairs now.”
Though he usually obeys when I use that tone, this time he shakes his head mutinously.
“Maybe we could call your mom and you can talk to her,” Claire suggests as she grabs a roll of paper towels and cleans up the mess. “But you don’t want to have to tell her you’re not dressed and ready for school.”
“Daddy.” Bella turns to me, lifting her arms.
I pick her up. “Come on, Nicholas. Remember when we talked about all of us having jobs to do? One of your jobs is to go to school and do your best work.”
Claire rises to throw away the wet paper towels. She takes Nicholas’s hand and guides him off the chair.
“Get dressed quickly and we’ll call your mom,” she says. “I’ll bet she can’t wait to talk to you, but she needs to hear your happy voice. That will make her feel much better, and then maybe she’ll be able to come home sooner.”
Nicholas doesn’t look convinced, but he follows her upstairs. The heavy stomp of his feet is the only evidence of his resistance.
After both kids are dressed, I call Liv’s cell phone, which goes to voicemail, and then I dial the hospital. The nurse tells me Liv is still sleeping and they’ll have her call me when she wakes.
This news almost sets Nicholas off again, but Claire hustles him and Bella to the car, saying something about having pizza for dinner.
The guilt digs in harder as I watch them go. I’m not either the father or husband I should be. I don’t even know what I should be doing differently. I can barely see beyond the next five minutes.
Before going to the hospital, I drive to Allie and Brent’s house. Both of their cars are parked outside, and Brent answers the door. His expression hardens when he sees me standing on the front porch.
“Hey, Brent.” I almost back up a step at the outright hostility radiating from him. “Is Allie here?”
“Yeah, but you need to leave her alone, man.” He glances behind him and steps onto the porch.
He’s an easygoing guy, easy to like, but right now he looks like he wants to hit me. Can’t say I blame him.
“I get that you’re going