Page 57 of One More Chance
Violet wrinkled her nose. “Is she sick? Again?”
“No,” I said as I grabbed eggs from the fridge. “She's tired. I told her we’d handle things this morning.”
Liam looked up now, suspicious. “You made breakfast?”
“Don’t look so shocked.”
He smirked. “Last time you tried, the toaster caught fire.”
“Unrelated incident,” I muttered, cracking eggs into a bowl.
Violet giggled. “What are we having?”
“Scrambled eggs, toast, maybe fruit if it’s not furry.”
“Ewww,” they said in unison.
"Oh, so you would prefer your fruit to be furry?"
"Nooo," they exclaimed together.
As the pan sizzled, the smell of butter and eggs started to fill the kitchen. The house remained quiet. Sloane was safely asleep and I was here: cooking, parenting, trying. Not for show. Not out of guilt. But because I was being given the chance to do things the right way.
I flipped the eggs with a bit of flair. Violet clapped.
"Oh, by the way… your mom's pregnant."
They both squealed in unison. I grinned. Small victories.
Chapter 19
Over the next few days, I stayed in the guest room, making myself useful to Sloane as she struggled with nausea. I kept her comfortable, brought her water, and did everything I could to help ease her discomfort. The kids didn’t ask questions, they simply adapted with a resiliency that only the young possess.
I called the rental company to cancel my lease. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts. My home was wherever Sloane was.
In the meantime, I promised her I’d slip back into the guest room one morning this week before the kids woke up. We didn’t want to confuse them. Or worse, give them hope we couldn’t live up to. The thought hurt, but I understood it. We were rebuilding trust brick by brick, not rushing it. Not pretending everything was fixed just because we remembered how to touch each other.
It was a few days after Sloane had told me she was pregnant when I found the medication.
It was early in the morning, still a few hours before the rest of the family would wake. I was in the kitchen. I set a pot of coffee to brew,letting the rich scent fill the kitchen. I prepped Sloane's mug the way she liked it then set it beside the kettle with a peppermint tea bag; in case her stomach felt unsettled when she woke up.
The small things mattered now. They always had, but the Old Me had been too selfish to notice before.
I grabbed a sticky note and scribbled a quick message:
Drink some tea if you need it. Text me if you’re craving anything. Anything at all. I mean it. - L
I stuck it to the cabinet where she’d definitely see it.
Looking over to grab the creamer, something caught my eye. Tucked just behind it, barely visible, was a prescription bottle. My hand froze mid-reach.
It wasn’t mine and it definitely hadn’t been there before their trip to the amusement park.
I slid it out from its hiding spot, the plastic cool against my fingers, and turned it in my palm. Alprazolam. The name didn’t register.
Curious, and already feeling the stirrings of unease, I pulled out my phone and searched it.
'Used to treat acute panic attacks and generalized anxiety disorder.'
