Dark Redemption - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,4

a sweat.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you have to give him another chance.”

My mom keeps getting stronger and more alert with each passing day. Her recovery borders on miraculous.

There's still a lot of physical therapy that she'll have to undergo in order to get back to where she was, but the cancer is gone and she's back with me now.

When I sit in her hospital bed after reading a chapter from a thriller that she requested, I listen to her breathe all on her own and I realize that for the first time since I’ve been here, I’m not holding my breath.

I have to talk to Dante again. It's not that I wasn't being fair. It's just that maybe I do owe him an apology or at least an explanation.

I give him a call, but he doesn't answer.

I text him and wait, but he doesn't get back to me.

Not that evening.

Not the day after.

The following morning when I go to visit my mom, an office manager gets my attention and takes me into the back.

I have been waiting for this moment and I don't really have any good way of dealing with it.

“I just wanted to let you know that all of the additional expenses from the complications have been taken care of by the anonymous donor,” she says. “All you need to do is sign off on all of the paperwork.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“The costs for the treatment that she received after the surgery,” she says, without blinking. “That’s not covered by insurance either.”

I swallow hard.

“But you have nothing to worry about. They have paid the additional fees.”

The office manager is very careful to use the word they, instead of he or she to disguise the donor.

But I know who it is.

“Is it Dante Langston?” I ask.

I startle her when I say his name and she runs her hands through her mane of red hair, pursing her lips together.

“And he’s the one who paid the other bill as well?”

“I really can't discuss the details of that,” she says, dismissively.

“But it's my mom's medical treatment."

“I know, but just like we have her privacy to protect, we also have to protect the privacy of our donors. They wish to remain anonymous.”

She shows me a stack of papers and walks me through each one to sign off on.

I walk out of the office more stunned than I was before. Why? Why would he pay this, not knowing whether I have any intentions of getting back together with him?

I was so rude and unforgiving earlier, angry and upset.

Though I had every right to my feelings, I was almost entirely sure that he would not be that understanding and go out of his way to pay another hundred thousand dollars for all the additional treatment that she got.

When I go back into her room, Mom’s sitting up reading on her own. She flashes me a big wide smile when I come in.

"Did you bring me the makeup?”

I nod, taking out the bag from my purse and sit down next to her to help her.

"No, no, no. I'd like to do this myself. God, it has been forever since I've seen my reflection.”

Mom opens the compact, takes one look, and then puts it down.

“Now that's not a good look.”

"You look fine, Mom. Today, you actually have some color in your face," I say, reaching for her hand.

"At least, I have an excuse,” she says, looking at her nails and then at mine with a groan. "I've been in this bed for a while. What's yours?"

"I've been waiting around for you to get better," I joke.

Applying a good dose of foundation as well as some concealer under her eyes, she outlines her brows with pencil and applies a thick coat of mascara. Finally, she completes the look with a generous amount of lip gloss.

"That's better except for my hair is still a disaster,” Mom says, running her fingers through her oily, limp locks.

I debate with myself whether or not I should tell her about the anonymous donor and the fact that he’s… my boyfriend.

My boyfriend, really? I ask myself. No, that's not right.

Of course, we've never talked about it. Of course, at this point, he probably thinks that I've broken up with him. But then again, he did pay for my mom's treatment and I'm sure he's expecting me to reach out.

My mind is going a mile a minute.

The truth is that I'm really excited to see Dante again. I want to tell