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And hopefully, she will learn to trust me.

But that hope dies before I can allow it to fully blossom.

Chapter 28

Corm

Helpless.

When we join the others, an administrator is waiting for us. I guess Mom being on the board got many people an early wake-up call.

“Mrs. Quinn, I’m sorry to have kept you here. We have a waiting room set up for you. From what I understand, they will be transferring Ms. van den Linden to the post-op soon, and the doctor will come to give you an update,” he informs us.

I want to remind him that Saar is no longer Ms. van den Linden, but I refrain, because with the other Mrs. Quinn present, it would only cause confusion. And it would not help Saar anyway.

Helpless.

We’re all corralled into a boardroom, where trays with fruit, bagels, and fresh coffee are waiting like this was a business meeting.

“This is the best we could do,” the administrator apologizes, but I tune him out and walk over to the window, ignoring the others.

But my need for solitude is interrupted immediately. I more sense than see a small figure beside me. In the window’s reflection, I recognize Saar’s friend with the weird amateur pixie haircut.

Is it Cora or Lily? I should know that. I should have cared about her life more. Fuck, I’m going to have these women over at my house regularly from now on.

Lily or Cora doesn’t say anything, and I don’t quite know how to react, so I grumble. “If you say everything is going to be okay—”

“I wasn’t. Not because I don’t think everything will be okay. It will. But I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing that.”

Something tells me she speaks from experience. “Then—”

“I didn’t come to say anything. Words are meaningless in these kinds of situations. I came to stand here because I know Saar wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

I whip my head to her, stunned. Well, she may think words are meaningless, but her words just tilted my world on its axis.

“I thought I made her life miserable.” I shamelessly fish for some confirmation that Saar told her friend… I don’t know what. Something she didn’t tell me.

“Well, you both rode that hate train with honor.” She giggles. “But in the last few weeks, you made her happy. I think she makes you happy, too.”

“She does.”

We turn to stare at the awakening city in silence. Behind us, chairs squeak, coffee is poured, things are moved, but nobody talks.

Helpless.

Everything is happening in a silent choreography, where everyone is exhausted by the waiting and uncertainty. On the background of that soundtrack of worry, I’m grateful for my current company.

“I’m Lily, by the way,” she offers.

Shit. “How did you know?”

“You might make my friend happy, but you’re still an asshole.” She giggles.

I chuckle humorlessly, and want to vow to her I will protect her friend better from now on, but the door opens and I whip around.

“Oh.” A man in scrubs with a mask pulled down to his chin looks around the room, probably taken aback by the number of people.

“Dr. Freedman, you can speak freely,” my mother says gently, like she is in charge here. “It’s just the immediate family.” She smiles confidently, as if she knows everyone in the room besides me. And the doctor, apparently.