After Lincoln walks Jenna to the door, he informs the kids we’re having a movie and pizza night in our bedroom. Seeing the excitement on their faces sends warmth to my chest. I laugh when the bickering between Gray and Gemma starts about which movie to watch first. Gray, being an amazing older brother, relents after a few minutes.
While Lincoln carries me to our bedroom, Gray follows behind us with the pizza boxes. Lincoln props me up against my mountain of pillows as Gemma climbs on the bed and grabs the remote to flip to one of the movie subscriptions we have.
Everyone settles on the bed with Lincoln and me on the outside and the kids in between us. Pizza is plated and passed around. Lincoln cuts mine up into small bites and Gemma, who’s sitting closest to me, pops pieces into my mouth. I feel like such an invalid having to be fed, but I know Gemma doesn’t mind. I think she actually likes taking care of me.
“You need a drink, Momma?” she asks in her sugary sweet voice.
“Yes… pleassse.”
Lincoln passes her a cup, and she holds the straw to my lips, then she passes it back to him. The movie begins, and while Lincoln’s, Gemma’s, and Gray’s attention is on the TV, I keep my eyes on my family. I take time to look over each one of them, feeling so much pride that they are mine. I could never have asked for a better family.
After everyone is full, Lincoln sets the plates on the floor and everyone gets more comfortable on the bed. Once Lincoln helps me lie flatter on the bed and partially on my side, Gemma snuggles up against me, resting her head on my lower stomach. Gray moves to the end of the bed as expected. I smile when he lies close to my feet and puts his hand on my ankle. Lincoln moves closer to Gemma, and a moment later, I feel his fingers filtering gently through my hair and massaging my scalp.
I never move my eyes to the TV, intent on taking as much time as I can to look at my family.
It’s not long before the exhaustion of the day takes hold, and I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.
As I drift off to sleep with my family touching me in some way, I dream about a life before I became ill. To a time when we were carefree and not worried about the future like it’s a ticking time bomb. I dream of the day I met Lincoln and the wonderful feeling I felt in my stomach. About our life over the years as we grew up. All the little things we did that weren’t important to others but are wonderful memories for us. I dream about all the times and ways I fell in love with him. All the ways he made me feel special and loved.
I dream about Gray and Gemma. When I found out I was pregnant with them both and the blessing I felt the first time I saw their beautiful, scrunched up faces. Every time they reached a milestone and the pride of being their mother.
I dream of it all. My amazing and perfect life.
And I know once my time comes to an end, I’ll pass onto another life, never regretting a single moment of this one.
Chapter Thirty
LINCOLN
I know the moment I wake up the next morning something is wrong. Not from a sound or smell or even visually.
My eyes have already moved to Molly to find her sleeping peacefully. Our faces are only inches apart. She’s turned toward me with our laced hands lying on her pillow by her head, the covers drawn up to just under her armpits. Her long lashes rest against her freckle-covered cheeks, and her hair fans out over her shoulders. My eyes move to her chest to see it rise and fall.
One of my worst fears is waking and finding her gone, no longer breathing.
Brushing away a few pieces of hair that lay on her cheek, I do my usual morning routine and look at her beautiful face for several long minutes.
Once I have my fill of looking at her, I press a gentle kiss against her lips. A pang of disappointment hits when she doesn’t do her normal soft moan she does each morning when I kiss her before getting out of bed. Yesterday was a taxing day for her from our trip to see Christopher McCord and his family. I’m sure Molly will sleep most of the day away.
Getting up, I go to the bathroom, splash water on my face, and brush my teeth. The kids will be getting up soon, so I need to start breakfast.
Molly hasn’t moved an inch when I exit the bathroom. My eyes keep flickering to her as I get dressed and haphazardly run a comb through my hair.
I walk to her side of the bed, grab the intercom remote I installed a couple of months ago, and put it by her hand. When I’m not in the room with her, I want her to have a way of calling me if she needs anything when she wakes up. Leaning over, I put my mouth close to her ear. I always like to let her know I’m up before I leave the room.
“Molly,” I whisper and kiss her cheek. “Hey, baby,” I say a bit louder when she doesn’t respond.
Remembering the off feeling I had when I first woke up, my heart begins to pound in my chest. I press two fingers against the pulse in her neck. She was breathing when I was in bed, but I check anyway.
Feeling her pulse doesn’t alleviate my worry.
“Molly,” I call her name again and gently shake her shoulder.
Nothing. There’s not one inkling of a response from her.
I press against her shoulder and roll her to her back. Her eyes don’t flicker at all, and her breathing stays the same. Her head lulls to the side, and her lips part from the movement.
My chest tightens, and my heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest.
“Molly,” I plead, my voice hoarse from the tears forming in my eyes. “Please, baby.”
When she still doesn’t respond, my legs give out, and I fall to my knees beside the bed. A tear slides down my cheek and lands on her arm. Another falls quickly after.
My gaze lands on her stomach, and I pinpoint on the fact that she’s still breathing. She’s not gone—not all of the way—or at least not yet.
Dr. Becker said the likelihood of Molly falling into a coma was high. Most patients with GSS die either from pneumonia or fall into a coma the last few months before their body ultimately gives out.
I clench my jaw and barely suppress the overwhelming urge to scream at the top of my lungs that I’m not ready yet.
I need more time with her. It’s too goddamn soon.
I’m not prepared to say goodbye.
There are too many things I still want to say to her.
Hearing one of the bedroom doors in the hall opening, I quickly get to my feet and wipe away the evidence of tears from my cheeks. I leave my wife on the bed and walk out to meet whoever’s awake before they can come into the room. There’s no way I want Gray or Gemma to walk in and see their mother like this. She looks like she’s sleeping, but it wouldn’t take long to figure out something is wrong.
I meet Gray in the hall just as he makes it to our bedroom door. Grabbing his shoulder, I push him away from the door and bend so we’re eye to eye. I have to clear my throat several times to get words past the lump wedged there.
“I need you to do me an important favor, Gray,” I tell him. “I need you to go to Gemma’s room and wake her up. But I need you both to stay in her room for a little while.”
Hearing the seriousness in my tone, his senses go on high alert. “What’s wrong?” His voice cracks. “Is Mom…?” He trails off, and his throat bobs, unable to form the words.
“No.” I take a deep breath. “But I need to call the ambulance.”