Page 28 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
"I know this is overwhelming. But I wouldn't have asked if I didn't trust you completely."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and left him sitting at the table with our half-empty mugs.
The drive home passed in a blur of familiar streets and racing thoughts.
By the time I pulled up to the house, I had nearly convinced myself that the entire conversation had been some sort of elaborate misunderstanding.
I found my mother unconscious on the bathroom floor, blood pooled beneath her head where it had struck the tile.
More blood stained her shirt and the toilet bowl, bright red against the white porcelain.
"Mom!" I dropped to my knees beside her, searching for a pulse.
Her skin felt cold and clammy, but she was breathing.
"Mom, can you hear me?"
She stirred at the sound of my voice, her eyes fluttering open. "Sadie?"
"I'm calling an ambulance." I fumbled for my phone with shaking hands. "Don't try to move."
"No." She tried to sit up, then immediately slumped back down. "No hospitals."
"You're vomiting blood, Mom. This isn't negotiable anymore."
As I dialed 9-1-1, Harrison's business card fell from my purse onto the blood-stained floor.
I stared at it for a moment, then kicked it aside and focused on giving the dispatcher our address.
This time, I was done enabling her.
This time, we were going to face the truth about what her drinking had cost us both.
And maybe, if I were brave enough, I would finally have to face some truths about what I was willing to do to survive.
7
HARRISON
The call came while I was reviewing architectural plans for the Pemberton renovation, my laptop balanced on the kitchen table next to a cup of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago.
I recognized the number immediately—Alan Jenkins, the private investigator I'd hired to keep tabs on the board's activities and to look into Sadie's life.
I could barely afford him, but something told me it was a necessary evil.
"Vale."
"Harrison, it's Jenkins. I'm calling about the substitute teacher you asked me to keep an eye on."
I straightened in my chair.
I'd requested periodic updates on Sadie Quinn's situation, partly for due diligence and partly because I needed to understand who I was asking into my life.
"What about her?"
"Her mother was admitted to Cape Cod Hospital last night. Emergency ambulance call around seven thirty. The daughter's been there ever since."
My coffee mug stopped halfway to my lips.
