She wouldn't leave. Not today.
"I meant what I said." Mom softened. "I do like her."
A dry laugh escaped me. "You don't even know her."
"No. But I know you. And you wouldn't bring her today. Not with…" Her gaze drifted to Sebastian.
I counted the cords. Tracked which machines they fed into. Watched the numbers crawl across the screens—each one another warning. The ventilator filled the silence.
"Everything going on," she finished at last.
"I didn't think about it," I admitted. "We were together when I got the call. I was about to—"
I trailed off, the confession lodged in my throat. The one I'd been circling for weeks.
I'd told myself the timing wasn't right. That I wanted it to be perfect. I thought tonight was the night.
Now it wasn't.
But the words hadn't changed.
I dipped my head. "I was going to tell her I love her."
My mother snapped toward me. "Damien Read Holt." Her pitch climbed. "You were going to tell a woman your own mother has never even met that you love her?"
Her face reddened.
I braced for the blow.
"How dare you," she said at last, low and sharp.
"I know. I know—"
She cut me off. "You know how long I've been waiting for this?"
Hurt flickered across her face, tangling with the grief already etched there.
"I'm sorry," I said.
She let out a lungful of hot air, fixing me with a look that dared me to lie. "Do you plan to marry this girl?"
I froze. The question raw and delicate.
I wanted to say no. To wave it off. But instead—
"Yes. Or at least I hope to."
Her brows shot up. "Now I'm really pissed."
"That's fair," I agreed.
"How long have you two been together?"
I hesitated. The answer wasn't simple.
And I had none that wouldn't piss her off.
She pinned me with a glare. "Answer the question, Damien."
