“Cal’s in the hospital.”
“What?” Panic gripped her. Realization that it had to be afraction of what Amanda was feeling quickly followed.
“He had his appendix removed.”
“Like, today?” Disbelief warred with the knowledge that anappendicitis could come on and reach emergency status in a matter of hours.That exact thing had happened to her when she was fifteen.
Amanda didn’t answer. She’d finished reading messages and had herphone to her ear. “Where are you? How is he?”
She couldn’t hear enough to know if it was Daniella on the otherend of the line or Mel. Instinctively, she reached over and put a hand onAmanda’s knee. Amanda looked her way briefly, but there was misery in her eyes.
“I’ll come right there. It’ll be three hours at least, but I’mcoming.” Amanda led out a shaky breath. “I know. Okay. Call me if anythingchanges.”
She ended the call and Quinn gave her a second to settle hernerves before asking, “Is he all right?”
Another shaky breath. “Mel says so, but I won’t believe it untilI can set eyes on him myself.”
Probably not the moment to confess how much she loved Amanda’smama bear instincts. “So, he had the surgery already? He’s in recovery?”
“In a regular room, apparently. He felt lousy yesterday. Mel saidhe called her at five this morning because he hadn’t stopped puking and had asharp pain in his side.”
Quinn tried to offer a reassuring smile. “Good thing he knew thesymptoms.”
Amanda shook her head. “I should have been there.”
“How could you have known?”
“I shouldn’t have been inaccessible.” Amanda poked at her screen,then held up the phone. “He texted me last night and I didn’t get it.”
“And he called his other mother, who seems to have done the rightthing.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t understand. I’m theone who is always there. I’m the one who takes care of everything.”
Quinn swallowed the retort on the tip of her tongue. “This is noexception. You’ll be at the hospital in a matter of hours and I have no doubtyou’ll take impeccable care of him until he’s back to one hundred percent.”
“I need to check on Daniella.”
Quinn focused her attention on the road while Amanda called herdaughter. The conversation started tense, but Amanda laughed before theyfinished. That was a good sign. “What do you need from me? What can I do?”
Amanda blinked at her a few times, as though surprised by thequestion. “Just bring me to Cayuga Medical. I told them I’d be there as quicklyas I could.”
A small knot of helplessness rooted in Quinn’s stomach. “Do youstill have your appendix? I had mine out when I was fifteen.”
“I still have mine.”
Amanda seemed only half focused on the conversation, but she hadto believe even minor distraction was an improvement over worrying and beatingherself up for the next three hours. “I went from fine to hospital the sameday, but I was home the next and back to normal in less than a week.”
“I know that’s how it works, but it doesn’t make me feel thetiniest bit better.”
“Would you like me to list all the ways you’re an outstandingmother? I’d be happy to.”
She’d hoped the comment would at least get her a smile, butAmanda’s eyes welled with tears. “My son needed me and I was off playing withmy girlfriend like some irresponsible teenager.”
The words stung. Even as she rationalized Amanda was upset, thatshe was in an understandably emotional state, they lodged in her chest.Because, emotional state or not, maybe they were true.
More deflated than she cared to admit, Quinn drove on in silence.Amanda tapped at her phone. She could have been texting her friends or lookingup early appendicitis symptoms to torture herself with. Either way, she didn’tbother trying to make conversation.
She dropped Amanda at the hospital with a promise to bringAmanda’s things over whenever she made it home. She hesitated, then asked foran update whenever Amanda had a moment. Amanda mumbled an “of course,” butclimbed out of the car without a kiss or even making eye contact.
Quinn headed home, telling herself a hundred times Amanda’sactions were completely reasonable given the situation. But when she pulledinto the lot of her building, she sat for a long moment. She might be good attelling herself all the right things. Believing them was another matterentirely.
* * *
Thanks to her back-and-forth with Mel and Daniella, Amanda didn’thave to bother with tracking down where Cal was. She took the elevator to hisfloor and barely resisted the urge to run down the hall to his room. At thedoor, she made herself pause for a moment. The last thing her son needed wasseeing her all freaked out.
She took a deep breath, then blew it out. She was fine. Cal wasfine. Everyone was fine.
She entered the room to the sound of Mel laughing. No, notlaughing. It was a guffaw that bordered on a snort. When she rounded the wall,she found her ex-wife doubled over with laughter and both of her kids gigglinglike, well, kids. It was jarring and sent her already frazzled nerves intoorbit.
“What’s so funny?” She didn’t mean to snap, but it sounded likethat. She cleared her throat. Hopefully it passed for surprise.
All three of them froze and looked her way. Like when the kidswere little and she’d caught them in the middle of something they knew theyweren’t supposed to be doing. The funny thing was, Mel had usually been part ofthe antics then, too.
“Mom.” Cal looked both happy to see her and relieved. “You’rehere.”
The familiar twinge of being the killjoy faded and she went tohim. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and kissed the top of his head,just like when he was little. “How are you, baby?”
He leaned into her for a moment, then pulled away. “I’m fantasticnow. This morning, I thought I was going to die.”
She felt the blood drain from her face and a fresh wave of guiltwash over her. “I’m so, so, so sorry I wasn’t here.”
“Not literally die. It was fine. I called these two and they tookcare of me.”
Amanda shook her head. “I should have been here.”
He gave her a look of exasperation.
