Page 88 of Parrish

“No, he’s not okay,” he interjects. The sharp tone of his voice paired with his bold words, force me to turn my attention back to him.

Lesson three, Jack Parrish doesn’t sugarcoat anything. He gives it to you straight, damn the consequences.

“He was with you when you had the accident,” he reveals, “One minute you were holding his hand, promising everything would be okay, the next you were thrown from the car. He was terrified you were going to die and when you woke up, he was thrilled. He thought he was finally rid of his old man that things would go back to normal. That his mother would love on him just as she has since the day he was born.”

He pauses as the tears stream down my cheeks and roughly runs his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he grunts.

Lesson four, Jack admits when he’s wrong.

“I know this is isn’t your fault,” he adds. “You didn’t ask for any of this any more than I did. I’m trying, Reina. I’ve been trying to take care of Danny but I’m not you and I’m so sick and tired of seeing him unhappy. It doesn’t matter how much love I got for him, I can’t be his mom. I’m barely cutting it as his father.”

Logically, I can understand his frustrations, but doesn’t he realize how much it hurts me not to remember him or our son. Maybe he doesn’t. He stormed out of here three days ago and never looked back. He doesn’t know I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night trying to figure out where I belong.

“Don’t you think I want to remember him? That I want to remember you?”

“Truth?”

“You said you don’t lie.”

He nods.

“I know you want to remember him. I’m not so sure why you’d want to remember me.”

“Is that why you haven’t been around?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You’re my husband, Jack. I might not remember how we came to be, but I married you and that counts for something. It’s everything.”

“I’ve been a shit husband.”

“My life may be different than what I envisioned, but I’d like to think the foundation of who I am hasn’t changed. I wouldn’t have married you and I sure as hell wouldn’t have stayed married to you if I didn’t love you. So, we’re not perfect—no couple ever is—still, there has to be something about us that makes it all worthwhile.”

Lesson five, even the toughest men are sometimes vulnerable.

“Help me remember,” I plead.

Sighing, Jack rubs a hand over his face.

“I want to remember you. I want to remember him. I want to remember us. God, I want it more than my next breath,” I sob.

His hand falls from his face and before I can say another word, he leans forward and takes my hand in his. Our fingers intertwine, and he bends his head, brushing his lips across my knuckles. I don’t flinch or try to snatch my hand away. I relish in the comfort.

I relish in him.

In his touch.

And I know, without having him say it, his touch is another thing I love.

“Okay, Sunshine,” he murmurs, dropping my hand back onto the bed. He reaches for the box of tissues on the rolling table and plucks a few before gently wiping my tears. “Whatever you want,” he rasps.

“Why do you call me Sunshine?”

“Because that’s what you are,” he answers simply like its common knowledge. His thumb traces my lower lip and my breath hitches as his eyes zero in on my mouth.

“You’ll always be my sunshine,” he adds. For a moment I think he might kiss me and to my surprise, I close my eyes in anticipation. It’s as if my body and mind are at war. One knows for certain it belongs to Jack while the other remains chained to the past.

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