Page 79 of Married in Michigan

He sighs. Wraps an arm around me.

It was so hard seeing her, hearing her talk about dying, and I just can’t stop myself from collapsing against him.

The light fades.

I weep, and weep, and darkness takes over.

* * *

“…Fullhospice care set up. A-S-A-P. Yeah, here, in my condo. Shit, I don’t know. MS, she said, basically terminal. How long? I don’t know. Name is Poe. P-O-E. Harborview Nursing Home in Petoskey, Michigan. I want her here as soon as it can be arranged. Makayla will fly out to be with her for the move. Yes, thanks. Full time, round the clock. Put the nurse up somewhere in the building. If you have to buy someone out to make it happen, then do it. Make sure the nurse is the best. And if there’s any kind of promising treatments, find them, get them.”

I wake up to hear Paxton pacing, and talking. He sees me stir, and sits on the bed beside me.

“Thank you, Victor. Okay, goodbye.” He shoves the phone in a back pocket, and stares down at me. He’s a big, broad shadow in the moonlight. His eyes glitter in the dim light. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry. It was too hard. Too scary.”

“It’s taken care of.” He smiles. “You’ll go down early next week and bring her here.”

“You want my sick, cantankerous, meddling mother living with you?”

“Meddling?”

I drop my eyes. Roll over, away from him. “She made me promise to try.”

“Try?” His hand rests on my shoulder.

“With you.” Don’t look at him—don’t look at him.

“So you’re not alone when she…” he trails off, unsure how to finish it.

I nod. “That. And because she could tell that I…”

“You what, Makayla?”

I finally turn over to my back, and stare up at him. I swallow my nerves and use the strength Mom taught me. “She could tell that I like you.”

He grins. “You like me?” A laugh. “As in, youlikeme, like me?”

I giggle—I’m tired and my dignity is gone. A giggle is all I’ve got, as girly and dumb as it is. “Don’t be juvenile.”

“You said you like me, butI’mthe juvenile one?”

I reach for his hand, tangle my fingers with his. “I…I care about you.”

He doesn’t answer for a long time. “I care about you too.”

Our eyes lock. He frowns.

“This changes things,” he says.

I laugh quietly. “You just arranged for my mother to come live with us.”

He nods. His eyes are serious, penetrating, wild. “Withus.”

A long, tense, seething silence.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper.