Page 79 of Love Out Loud

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. She’s sick, and I need to be there.”

“Lark, stay here. Wait for news. If it’s bad, we’ll fly out together,” he says, as if he’s trying to talk some sense into me. I bristle at his tone. How can he not understand that this isn’t even a choice? My daughter is sick, so I’m going to be with her. He must see my reaction, because his face falls.

“If it’s bad, I need to be there,” I tell him. “I already booked my flight and a ride to the airport.”

He gapes at me, all of the sleepiness completely wiped from his expression. “You were going to leave and not tell me?”

“I was going to tell you, but I knew what you were going to say.”

Silence stretches between us as he folds his arms over his chest. “And what was I going to say?” he asks, his voice flat.

“This.” I wave, encompassing the conversation between us. “You were going to beg me to stay and tell me I don’t need to be there. But I do. She’s my daughter.”

From the grumble that starts in his chest, I can tell he’s trying to hold back. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair before saying it anyway. “She’s grown. She’s going to college. Richard is with her. What are you going to do, jump on a plane every time she gets sick?”

It lands like a knife straight to my heart. I exhale a quick puff of air as I press my hand against my chest. “She’s my daughter,” I repeat slowly. “If she’s in the hospital, yes, I will.”

His expression turns pleading, all upturned eyebrows and wide eyes. “Lark—”

“Don’t make me choose, Lennon,” I cut him off before he can try to persuade me further. “Support me. Tell me it’s going to be okay.” My voice cracks. “Don’t make me feel bad for leaving to see my daughter who is in the hospital.”

“That’s what I am saying. It’s going to be okay. You’re flying out there in a panic for nothing.”

“I’d rather fly out for nothing than stay and have it be something. Why can’t you understand that I have to go?” My phone chimes. I pick it up to see the notification that I have five minutes until my ride arrives. My breath is shaky as I draw it in, then let it slowly out. I heave my wheel-less suitcase past him, and he moves aside to let me.

“Are you coming back?” he asks quietly, his feet planted in the doorway.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. The past few minutes have been like a bucket of ice water thrown on the heat of our time together. I’ve been so consumed with the newness of our relationship that I never stopped to wonder what might happen when something like this inevitably came up. I stupidly thought we’d figure it out, but I can see now that he hasn’t taken my very real responsibilities into consideration. It makes me wonder if he ever would because he’s never had any. Not like this. And it dawns on me now that he knows I’m a parent in an abstract sense, but he isn’t really aware of everything that means. I fear that he won’t ever be happy with anything less than me giving my whole self to him. Which I can’t ever do.

Neither of us says anything. He looks as hurt as I feel.

My phone chimes again. “My ride is here,” I say as I glance at it.

“Lark—”

“I’ll call you when I land, okay?”

His mouth snaps shut. He nods once, and I leave quickly, before the quivering in his lips can turn to the tears that might make me change my mind.