Page 63 of If You Claim Me

I shock the hell out of the staff when I show up in the kitchen with my empty plate. The laughter stops, and everyone stands when I enter.

“Mr. Grace, was your dinner insufficient?” Cedrick asks.

It really sucks that I put everyone on edge just by existing. “No, dinner was great. I just figured I’d save you the trouble of collecting my plate since I’m going out to see Meems.”

He takes the plate and cutlery. “It’s my job, sir.”

“Sometimes it’s nice when someone makes it easier, though.” I rub the back of my neck. “And can you all stop calling me Mr. Grace, please? I know I look like him, but I’m not my father.” And I never want to be. All the art I put on my body is a reminder of just how different we are. He would never defile himself the way I have, and he’s been very vocal about his disdain for my choices, career and body art included.

“What would you prefer?”

“Just Connor, please.”

Cedrick smiles. “Of course, Connor.”

If Mildred was with me, they’d all be smiling. “Do we have strawberries?”

“Yes, Connor, would you like some?”

“Not now, but they’re M—Dred’s favorite, so maybe something with strawberries for breakfast.”

Ethel beams. “I’ll browse my recipes.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Connor.”

I leave the kitchen, feeling like I’ve at least made some progress with the staff. I pass through the breezeway, and the cool evening air is a reminder that long sleeves will be mandatory soon as I rap on Meems’s door before I enter. The lights are on, but the living room is empty.

“Meems?” It’s not even seven. I check the four seasons room with a view of the expansive backyard and her favorite gardens, but she’s not there, either.

“Meems, you in there?” I knock on her bedroom door, but still no response. Panic hits, swift and cutting like a blade. The emotions sweep through me before I can corral them, nearly taking me to my knees.

I push the door open, heart hammering in my chest. Meems is in bed, still and tiny. She seemed okay earlier. What if…Please don’t let her be gone.

I’m not ready to be without her. I’m not ready for a world in which she doesn’t exist. She’s the only person in my family who understands me, the only one who has always been on my side. But it’s more than that. If I lose Meems, I have to let Mildred go, and I don’t want to yet.

I cross the room, begging a God I’ve never put faith in not to take Meems away from me for wildly selfish reasons.

Meems’s back expands and contracts, quelling the panic. For now.

There will come a day when my fears are reality. I know that, even if I don’t want it to be true.

I kneel beside her bed and press my lips to her forehead. She’s cool, no fever.Thank God.

She stirs, and I pull back, wishing her body was strong enough to withstand surgery. Maybe more time with Mildred will get her there. Maybe she can heal us both.Give her more time, please.

“Connor?” Her warm, soft palm presses against my cheek. “What time is it?”

“Seven.” I take her frail hand and kiss the back of it. “You feeling okay?”

“I laid down after dinner because I was tired. I was only supposed to sleep for half an hour.”

“It’s okay. If you’re tired, you’re tired, Meems.”

“I am.” She nods groggily. “So tired these days.”

We were warned this could happen. Her heart is working so hard. Too hard. “Maybe we should make a doctor’s appointment.”