Parker regarded her for a moment. Behind his glasses – still askew, I noticed – his eyes were contemplative. “We continue to search for a match,” he answered. “There is one out there. Tanner responded well to the chemotherapy, which gives us a little more time to find them.”
I frowned. “What about Robby Aames being an almost match?” As much as I didn’t like the idea of Robby and his Rolex saving our son, I wasn’t so ruled by my ego that I would refuse his help. I’d even shake his hand afterward. “Is this something we should be seriously looking at now? I kind of got the feeling it was time for desperate measures because I wasn’t a—”
“An almost match is very much a last resort, Brendon,” Parker said, scooping a fourth spoon of sugar into his coffee. The health student and personal trainer in me winced. The emotionally drained parent understood all too well – you do what you have to do to keep going.
“And Tanner has time.” Amanda moved her hands over the tabletop and closed them around mine.
I dropped my gaze to our interlocked fingers. Her skin was soft and warm, her grip gentle but firm. I should have pulled my hands away, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. As I said, you do what you have to do.
“What about my mum and dad?” I asked, looking back at Parker. “Can they be tested in Australia? Is that possible?”
“It is possible.” Parker took a sip from his paper cup and then pulled a face. “Goddamn, this is sweet.”
I bit back a chuckle. “I can call them,” I shifted on my seat, digging in my back pocket for my phone. “They’ll both be at work now, but I can leave a message.”
Parker waved a steadying hand at me. “Slow down.”
“I don’t want to slow down,” I answered. “I want to help my son.”
“You are helping your son, Bren.” Amanda squeezed my hands. “By being here. By wanting to be in his life.”
“But I can’t get rid of his leukemia. Everything I know about the human body, every conceivable way to keep it in peak physical health, and I’m sitting here doing nothing. Nothing.”
“Brendon,” Parker said, his tone stern enough to make me turn to him. “Can I speak out of turn for a second?”
I nodded.
He took another sip of his coffee and then smiled, first at Amanda and then at me. “I’ve known Amanda for over a month now. Since the day she and Tanner walked into my office. Tanner had a Mohawk and a grin wider than the Mississippi. But I recognized the telltale signs. It’s a kick in the guts every time I see a little kid who’s only just started life present with symptoms, and it was no different with Tanner. But I saw a fighter as well. Not just in the little boy hugging an Optimus Prime toy, but in the young mother holding him. Despite what Amanda knew – and at that stage it was only enough to scare her witless – she was strong. But I didn’t see her smile, not with her eyes. Parents of kids with a life-threatening illness rarely smile with their eyes. Their eyes tell the real story, the real pain in their heart. I’ve seen Amanda every day since that first morning consultation, and earlier today, when she introduced me to you, was the first time I’ve seen her smile reach her eyes.”
It’s not often the man responsible for your dying son tells you that you make the woman you’re determined not to love again smile in her heart, but there you go. That’s what Parker Waters had just done.
“So . . .” He reached for his overly-sweet coffee again, half raised it to his lips, and smiled at me over its rim. “. . . what I’m saying in a very bad way, is you are doing something, being here. You’re helping Amanda find the smile in her heart. And as medicine for Tanner – and Amanda – that is one of the most profound things you can do.”
I stared at him.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, getting to his feet, “I need to go talk to our Head Administrator about the process required for getting tests conducted in Australia. I’ll come and find you both in Tanner’s room in a while, yes?”
“Thank you, Parker,” Amanda’s husky voice stroked my senses. “We’ll see you then.”
He left us, taking his coffee and the plate of jelly donuts with him.
Amanda’s hands grew tighter on mine. “Bren?”
Head thrumming, I turned to face her. “Who’s Robby Aames, Amanda?” I hadn’t intended to be so blunt. “Because he introduced himself to me as your boyfriend.”
She grimaced. “Robby’s not my boyfriend. We’ve . . . we’ve gone out a few times. But he’s never . . . we’ve . . .” She withdrew her hands and began pinching at her thumbnail. “We’ve never had sex. I told you before, there’s been no one since you, and I wasn’t lying about that.”
“About that,” I echoed.
“Robby is kind and sweet to Tanner,” she said, slumping in her seat. “He’s never complained about a poopy diaper change spoiling our dinner, or that the only DVDs that ever get played in my home are The Wiggles, Blue’s Clues and Little Einsteins.”
“He wants to get into your pants,” I pointed out. “Of course he’s not going to complain.”
She looked up at me and frowned. “What he wants and what he’s going to get are two different things. I wanted you to be a bone marrow match for . . .” She pressed her hand to her mouth, horrified disgust filling her eyes.
I didn’t move. In my chest, my heart was doing its best to turn into an out-of-control wrecking ball.
“Oh my God, Brendon,” she gasped into her palm, her eyes growing wide. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Closing my eyes, I rubbed at my face. Where was the smile in her eyes Parker had spoken of now? What were we doing to each other? Were we trying to self-destruct the fragile relationship we had? Was it a defense mechanism against the future we both feared – a future where we didn’t find a perfect match for Tanner, where his body rejected Robby’s almost match, and he died?
Or were we both aching for something once there, that had no hope of being there again, because the people we were then were no longer the people we were now? Or were we just never meant to be in the first place?
“Bren . . .” She reached for my fingers again. And again, I let her take them. I had no answer for what we were doing, but I knew I’d never pull my hand away from Amanda when she tried to take it again. Regardless of our relationship, regardless of whose bone marrow matched our son’s, regardless of who was in her bed, if Amanda needed to hold my hand, I would be her strength and let her do so.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Please don’t hate me.”
I let out a choppy laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t hate you, Mandy. I have, I can’t lie about that, but I don’t now. I’m just . . . all over the shop.”
“I understand.”
“Just tell me two things,” I said, tugging her hand a little closer to me, my pulse wild. “Two things, okay?”
She nodded, apprehension in her eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Tanner’s leukemia the day you found out, before your father held his health to ransom to keep me out of your lives. Why didn’t you tell me then?”