Billionaire, I Am Not Your Wife! novel Chapter 150

Chapter 145: Making Sure She Stays For Nick

Sedona’s POV

I thought about what December had meant two weeks ago-the despair I felt, for a long time before I finally got better, that I would go back and fight for my son thinking that I had time on my end and that Catherine would not be a permanent fixture in his life because I had told her that she could not get used to the harsh truth of being a mum to a child like Nick who needed special diets and formulas because of his fragile body system but Catherine had not fled which meant she was genuinely here for Nick or she was too desperate not to let go.

I thought about Mrs Peterson voice when she’d said I’ll make sure it’s him who calls.

She was on my side.

She had always been, in the quiet reliable way that didn’t create conflict and didn’t announce itself, on my side.

I sat up.

The room was the room it had always been-my tennis trophies on the shelf, the framed photo of me and Cameron at the junior nationals, the morning light making its patient rectangle on the opposite wall. The room that had held me at seventeen and twenty and twenty-eight, the room that had kept the shape of me while I was away.

I wasn’t waiting for December.

I’d told myself December because December had felt like the right interval, because it would have given me enough recovery time, enough stability, enough time to build the ground under the decision before making it. But someone was building in it in ways I didn’t account for and I was worried that when I would get there, there would be no more reason for me to be there.

Catherine early on a weekday morning to get Nick to accept her, and show that she won’t abandon him like I did.

Nick still asking about me, holding onto the hope that I might return despite Catherine’s efforts.

Mrs. Peterson making sure it would be him who called.

I picked up my phone again.

Not to call anyone-i had made all the calls I wanted to make at the moment but it was to have something to do with my hands.

Nick was five.

He would be officially six in February, which was a long time from being that post oarun mum after delivery being told her son may not survive due to the complications.

I’d taught him the rules of his body. I’d made them into a game because games were how six-year-olds Tearned things that needed to stay learned.

Somewhere in a kitchen in Chicago, that knowledge was still in him, he was still carrying the things that I had taught him.

Dad was gone.

He’d been gone for a long time. Longer than a work trip. Work trips were usually four days, sometimes five Dad had been gone for-I counted on my fingers under the breakfast table, where Catherine couldn’t see- a lot more than five.

Catherine said he was busy.

Grandma Sherry said the same thing when she came on Tuesdays, busy and working hard and he’d be home soon.

Mrs. Peterson said she was sure he’d be back soon, which was different from the other answers because she said she was sure, which meant she wasn’t sure but wanted me to think she was because it would keep me less worried than I would be, if she said nothing at all.

Mrs. Peterson was usually very exact about things because it was her job to be exact about things.

When she was sure about something she just said it. When she said she was sure it meant she was trying to keep a positive tone because she was also in the dark.

Those were also discoveries that I wasn’t going to point out to anyone so I focused on doing the most important job I had at that moment.

I ate my cereal.