Page 34 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
"Christ, Harrison. And you're sitting here talking to me instead of?—"
"I was there earlier. She was asleep. I left food and a note."
Guilt stained my conscience, but he didn’t let it go.
"A note?"
"I didn't want to wake her."
Juan sighed, the sound carrying years of frustration with my tendency to maintain distance even when distance was the last thing a situation required.
"Listen to me," he said. "You've got eight days to convince a board of trustees that you're capable of making the kind ofcommitment they think the school requires. That means you need to stop thinking about this as a business transaction and start thinking about it as what it actually is."
"Which is?"
"A partnership. A real one, even if it started as something else."
Juan's voice became more serious.
"If you're going to ask this woman to marry you, you need to be prepared to show up for her. Not just financially, not just legally, but actually show up. You should have been there, told the sitter to take care of Eloise. You should've been there when she woke up, H."
I looked out at the darkening sky and thought about Sadie alone in that waiting room, refusing food and company while her mother fought for consciousness down the hall.
"The board meeting is Friday," I said.
"Then you'd better figure out what you're really offering," Juan replied. "And you'd better do it fast."
After we hung up, I remained on the patio with my empty glass and the weight of eight days pressing against my chest.
Somewhere across town, Sadie was probably still in that hospital chair, keeping vigil over a woman whose illness had shaped both their lives in ways I was only beginning to understand.
I would have to decide whether to maintain the careful distance that had protected me for thirty years or step into the kind of vulnerability that genuine partnership required.
Because if Miss Quinn was going to accept my offer, I had to prove to her that it would be worth it.
8
SADIE
The hospital's fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in a constant hum that made my temples throb.
I'd been sitting in that plastic chair for three hours, watching nurses in pastel scrubs move through the halls with purpose I envied.
My mother lay sedated behind a curtain ten feet away, finally calm after the chaos of the last two nights.
The intake paperwork lay spread across my lap—forms asking about insurance we didn't have, emergency contacts I couldn't provide, medical history I only partially knew.
My pen hovered over the section requesting next of kin information.
Father: unknown. Siblings: none.
It had always been just Mom and me against the world, except now I wasn't sure who was fighting whom.
"Miss Quinn?"
A nurse with kind eyes and graying hair approached. Her badge readPatricia, RN.
"We need to discuss your mother's treatment options."
