“I’m not talking about my head,” she says, heaving a deep, exhausted sigh.

“I know. But you didn’t lose the baby because you’re defective. It happened because life isn’t perfect. Not you.”

“Lie with me?”

It takes me a moment to figure out how to lower the side rail on her bed, then she carefully turns onto her side so I can scoot in next to her. She lays the side of her head on my chest as I wrap my arm around her shoulders. I stroke her arm for a while, trying to pretend I can’t hear her crying.

“I had names picked out already.”

“What names?”

“Kalen for a girl and Cross for a boy.”

“I like Kalen, but I can’t agree to Cross.”

She breathes in deeply and I can feel the trembling in her chest against my chest. “What boys’ names do you like?”

“I was kind of hoping we could have a Junior.”

“But that’s so cliché.”

“And Cross is not a cliché? Didn’t you say you were reading a book with a character named Cross? We’re not naming our kids after characters.”

“Didn’t your mom name you after Tristan and Isolde?”

“That doesn’t count. Our son will be named Tristan. That is my only request.”

She’s silent for a moment before she speaks again. “How’s your grandma?”

I tighten my grip on her shoulder as I think of what the doctor told me shortly before I came in here. “The doctor said that he doesn’t think she’s going to come off the respirator soon; or, possibly, at all. And … and even if she does come off, she’ll be in a lot of pain.”

Senia uses the sheet to wipe the tears from her face this time. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

“We have to find her will tomorrow. I’m pretty sure that she’s specified she doesn’t want to stay on any kind of life support. She told us she wants to go quietly. But I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

The pain wells up inside me and I try my hardest not to conjure up images in my mind of a life without Grandma Flo.

“I don’t know what this will do to Molly,” I continue. “I don’t know how I’m going to take care of her for the next five years until she becomes an adult. I don’t know the first thing about raising a teenager.”

“You’ll figure it out. You didn’t know anything about playing the bass when Chris came to you and asked if you wanted to start a band, and look at you now.”

I grab her hand and bring it to my lips. Her fingers smell like antibacterial hand soap. I hold the backs of her fingers against my cheek to feel the softness of her skin, then I lay a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

“What am I going to do with you? You always know what to say. You’re always outsmarting me.”

She finally lets go a small chuckle, which is quickly followed by a small whimper. “You did beat me at hide-and-seek,” she replies, her voice once again muffled by grief. Then she squeezes out a few words that are completely unrelated and totally unexpected. “I thought when I told you I was pregnant, you would tell me to get lost.”

I want to ask her why she would think that, but, if I were her, I would have thought the same thing about me five weeks ago. I would not have imagined myself inviting a pregnant girl to live with me and I definitely would never have imagined myself confessing my love to her and talking about weddings.

She clutches the front of my shirt in her fist. “I thought when you found out about the baby today, you’d leave me here alone.”

“What? I … don’t even know what to say to that. You thought I’d just abandon you like that?”

“I’m sorry. I just had this horrible feeling that the only reason you were with me was because of the baby.”

“I know you can’t move your head to look at me right now, but listen to these words carefully and never forget them … I’m sorry I used to be the kind of person who would do something like that. And I will never abandon you. I wasn’t with you because of the baby. The baby was just the icing on a very fucking delicious cake. Do you believe me?”

“Well, when you put it that way, what choice do I have?”

“You have no choice. You’re stuck with me, for worse or for worse.”

“I’m so tired.” I move to slide out of the bed, but she holds tightly to my shirt. “Don’t go.”

I loosen my grip on her shoulder and adjust my position a little so she can get more comfortable. “So what do we do now?”

“How about we vow to never screw up the way we did outside Yogurtland?”

“I can’t promise that. What happened outside Yogurtland was one of the smartest mistakes I’ve made in a long time. I hope I get to make those kinds of mistakes with you for … forever.”

After spending a restless night in the hospital, trying to decide if I should sit next to Grandma or lie with Senia, they finally discharge Senia at 6 a.m. and she calls her sister, Maribel, to pick her up. The look on her face as she sits down in the passenger seat of her sister’s car breaks me apart. I kneel next to her and cradle her face in my hands, resting my forehead against hers.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right,” I say as I plant a kiss on her nose and release her. I lower my hand to her abdomen and she lays her hand over mine.

She bites her lip as it begins to tremble. “I know.”

It turns out the third lawyer I left a message for was the one who drew up Grandma’s will. He calls me at 9:06 a.m., as if I’m the first person he decided to call after listening to all his voicemail messages. That, or I was the only message he had. Either way, I’m just glad to hear his voice. I’m even more glad when he tells me that I can come in that morning to go over the will.

After waiting around for nearly two hours for a second social worker to show up at the hospital, Elaine decided she couldn’t wait any more and left before the social worker got there. When the social worker, Mrs. Greenlee, arrived, she was more than happy to allow Molly to stay with me until everything is sorted out with Grandma’s will. It was less paperwork for her and I think she could see by the weariness in our faces that we had been through enough.

I send Elaine a text telling her to arrive at the lawyer’s office by 10 a.m. or I won’t hesitate to dredge up a witness to her sick crimes. I would never, in a million years, contact Ashley to ask her to talk about what happened nine years ago just for my sake. But, if I had to, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it for Molly.

Elaine strolls into the waiting room at Lynch & Mellman, LLC, trailed closely by her new boyfriend, Joe, and his pedo-stache. Like I was ever going to allow Molly to go anywhere with those two. She’s wearing sunglasses indoors at 10:07 a.m. and carrying a carton of milk with a straw sticking out. Her gait is loose and weighed down, but it isn’t until she starts scratching her neck and scalp that I realize she’s high.

I clench my jaw to keep from saying something I’ll regret before we read the will, then I stand from the chair and head for the receptionist’s desk. “We’re ready,” I tell her and she smiles shyly at me as she tucks her blonde hair behind her ear.

“Where’s Molly?” Elaine asks in that nasally slurred tone I thought I’d never hear again after I moved out of Grandma’s house.

“At home, where she should be,” I reply as the receptionist leads us down a hallway to Jonah Lynch’s office.

This is a tiny law office, but I didn’t expect much for an estate planning lawyer in Raleigh. Still, something about the quaintness of this space makes me uneasy. It could just be knowing that Grandma was in here four months ago discussing what she wanted to happen after her death. She’s not even gone and I can already feel her presence everywhere.

We enter Jonah’s office and he rounds the desk to greet us near the door. The office is bigger than I expected and it has a decent view of the eastern parking lot where the sun would rise if he ever came in early or stayed way too late; not that I have any illusions of estate lawyers being that passionate about their work. But I hope Jonah has more than a few drops of compassion in him because I may need it if Elaine sets me off today.