Chapter 3

The road to Annie wasn't far, and it wasn't close.

Running it, with my insides feeling like they might drop out of me, time crawled.

Then I saw her, and time tore forward.

I'd have given anything for more of it, to fix this.

The doctor said Annie needed Adrian to operate, immediately.

I called him, again and again, until the sun was going down and someone finally picked up.

"Ms. Lowell, Adrian's still chatting with my father."

"Chloe, I don't care about your father, I need Adrian here now. Now."

I broke, pleading. "Chloe, I don't care what's wrong with your father. I need Adrian here to save Annie. Something's happened with her heart."

A soft little "oh" from Chloe. Then, slow and unhurried: "Do you know how Adrian talks about Annie to me? He says she's your bargaining chip, the thing you use to keep him. Every time she gets sick, it's just you sending him a signal."

It felt like a knife going through me. I nearly screamed. "Put him on the phone."

"Sure," she said, easy.

I heard her hand him the phone. Then, in a hurt little voice meant only for him, she murmured, "Adrian, she's at it again. She says Annie's dying. But didn't she say the same thing last month?"

When Adrian took the phone, his tone was already ice. "Annie's fine. I know her case. She doesn't need surgery. Stop using our daughter to back me into a corner."

The line went dead. After that it wouldn't connect at all.

Annie lay in the bed, looking at me. Her hand was so small. Two fingers traced little shapes in my palm.

"Mommy, where's Daddy?"

The pain stole my voice. I swallowed the bitterness on my tongue.

"Daddy's busy helping other people get better. Mommy's going to do your surgery, okay?"

Annie was so good. She lay quiet on the operating table. The surgeon's forehead beaded with sweat, but he caught the white of my face and frowned.

"Out."

I froze. I pulled at my cracked lips. "I can do it."

"Ms. Lowell, you used to be a surgeon. You know there's nothing for you to do in here right now."

The cold, flat voice cut every thought off at the root.

The next moment pain tore through my whole body. I held it and dragged myself out, pacing outside the doors.

Until they opened, and the surgeon couldn't meet my eyes.

"Ms. Lowell. I'm sorry. We couldn't save her."

The tears came in fat, heavy drops, tied to my sinews, slamming into my flesh, scooping out my heart one beat at a time.

My phone rang. Chloe's voice on the other end.

"Adrian just proposed to me, crying. He says he'll start from nothing for me. Says even if he's only ever an assistant, he'll give me a good life."

Her voice dropped, became a whisper only I could hear. "Want to know what he said when he proposed? He said, 'Chloe, marrying Vivi was the mistake of a foolish boy. Meeting you taught me what real love is.' Ten years of marriage. To him it's just a foolish boy's mistake."

She let it sit, then went on, a smile in her voice. "Don't be too sad, though. You did drive a good man off all by yourself. Oh, and he also says he's leaving you everything, all of it, as compensation. A good man, isn't he?"

I stared at the floor. When I spoke, my voice was already dead.

"Congratulations to you both."

"I'll handle the divorce with your director."

She couldn't believe it. I hung up before she could answer.

Through the tears, I remembered, hazily, the way he'd lifted me up once, years ago, shaking with joy.

He'd grown up without a home. He'd just learned I was pregnant, and he laughed until he cried, and lay his head against my belly like a child.

"Vivi, I always felt like your world was full of people."

"But my world was only ever you. I had no home, no family. And now—"

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, and his whole body was fragile and certain at once.

"Now I feel like I have a home."

"Thank you, Vivi. For giving me a home."

Back then I'd been so sure. Me, and Annie, and him, forever.

I closed my eyes, stood, and went into the operating room. I held Annie's body and carried her toward the funeral home.

I handled everything calmly. The viewing. The cremation. The urn.

Through all of it, I was terrifyingly calm.

As if Adrian had never come into my life at all.

Losing my daughter killed something in me for good. I decided to cut every cord to the past.

I opened the safe and pulled a manila envelope from the very back, the prenuptial agreement Adrian and I had signed ten years ago. He'd drafted it himself. On the day he knelt in front of me and slid the ring onto my finger, he'd said, "Vivi, you're the only one I'll ever love. If I ever betray you, I walk out with nothing. Everything goes to you. I leave with one set of clothes on my back and nothing else."

He'd even had it notarized, with two witnesses. His eyes had been rimmed red. He'd called it the most solemn promise he could give me.

I looked at the yellowed pages and laughed, soft and short. Then I folded it back up and put it in my bag.