Emma
"He loves you," Mom repeated softly, her hospital bracelet clicking against the bed rail as she reached for my hand. "And don't try telling me it's just an arrangement anymore. I've seen how you look at each other."
I fiddled with her blanket, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. "It's complicated."
"Love usually is." She caught my restless hands. "But that man didn't just handle hospital paperwork. He's been watching you like you might break, matching his breathing to yours when you get anxious, standing between you and anything that might hurt you."
"You noticed all that from a hospital bed?"
"I'm sick, not blind." Her smile turned teasing. "Besides, he reminds me of your father. The good parts – back when he was just a young man in love, before money and ambition changed him."
The
