10. Hailee
Chapter ten
Hailee
“H oney, I’m home!” I sing out, dragging my luggage behind me as I toe the front door shut. Our quaint townhouse in Sydney’s inner city has been our home for the past decade. Built in the early 1900s, it’s a unique blend of timeless elegance and modern chic, thanks to the extensive renovations carried out by the owners. Despite its updated features, it still has character and a certain lived-in, rustic charm. I’m going to miss this place .
I’ve decided to hold onto the lease while we live in Dameon’s building. Sydney’s rental market is ridiculously expensive, but with a monthly income of a million dollars, I can certainly afford to keep it empty for twelve months. This house holds so many memories—it was a soft place to land when we first arrived in Australia and I’m not quite ready to give it up.
“Beth?” I shout, dropping my handbag and suitcase in the living room.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. You woke me up.” Beth shuffles in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, yawning. Her black leggings and slouchy T-shirt accentuate her petite frame, but her pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes make my heart hurt. She’s looked better.
“Sorry.” I cringe. “Come here, my Betty Boo.” I pull her in for a big hug and plant a kiss on the top of her head. “I missed you.”
“Relax. It’s been six days,” she mumbles into my chest. “And I hate when you call me that.”
“Okay, poo brain. But I can’t help that I miss your face.”
She wraps her arms around me and, noticing how she subtly breathes me in, I squeeze her tighter.
“I missed you too,” she sighs, pulling out of my embrace and eyeing my dress. “That’s cute, where did you get it from? And more importantly, can I borrow it?”
“Boy, do I have news for you!” I widen my eyes dramatically. “And yes, you can wear it. But let me shower and unpack first, and then I’ll fill you in over margaritas and tacos.” Even though I just had breakfast, it’s already late afternoon in Sydney, and I assume Beth hasn’t organized dinner for herself yet.
“Good, I’m starving,” she says through another yawn.
I head upstairs to my bedroom and unpack, throwing everything into the drawers haphazardly. We’re going to be packing over the next couple of days, so there’s no point in putting things away properly. I take the speediest shower on record and dress in something comfy: leggings, and a tank top.
A quick check of the cupboards confirms my suspicion: no ingredients to make tacos in sight. But a short walk to the supermarket around the corner solves that problem. I’ll miss this neighborhood. Living near all these conveniences—supermarket, post office, doctor, dentist, pharmacy, cafés—has been wonderful. Despite owning a car, I hardly use it, preferring to walk, especially when everything is just a stone’s throw away.
After putting away the groceries, I begin slicing the limes to make margaritas. Drinking while cooking is a must in my book. I whip up a virgin one for Beth and a double-strength for myself—because, why the hell not? We’re celebrating.
“Mmm, can I try yours?” Beth strolls into the kitchen as I finish pouring the mixtures into margarita glasses, garnishing them with a lime slice on the salted rim.
“Sorry, kiddo, you know the deal. No alcohol until you’re eighteen.”
“Ugh, fine,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes and settling on a stool at the kitchen bench.
“Cheers.” I clink my glass with hers and take a sip, licking the salt off my lips. Not bad.
“Guess what?”
“What?” She looks at me expectantly and I can tell she’s a little afraid to hear the answer.
“You’re getting a new heart.”
“Fuck off, no way!” Beth’s smile is radiant, warming my heart in the best possible way.
“Uh-huh.”
“I can’t believe Mom came through,” she says, shaking her head.
“Well, not exactly,” I hedge. Beth deserves the truth, but I’ll do everything I can to shield her from the pain of knowing that her mother doesn’t give a shit about her.
“What do you mean?”
“I found another way.” I grab my phone from the counter and open the email from the transplant board verifying Beth’s new status as urgent. Just as Dameon promised, she’s now a priority for surgery as soon as a suitable match is found. Passing my phone to Beth, I turn my attention to chopping tomatoes, lettuce, and onions for the tacos, keeping a close eye on her reaction as she reads the email. She must read it over a dozen times, because it’s not that long.
“I can’t believe it,” she whispers. Tears well in her eyes, but her smile lights up her whole face, despite her gaunt look.
Oh, my Betty Boo.
“How?”
“I’ve accepted a twelve-month contract, a job for one of my clients at Eden.”
“Really? Are you sure about this?”
“Positive. Plus, we get to move into a posh new apartment in Bondi near the beach, and you get your own place with a chef, cleaner, and even a tutor. How cool is that?”
“No way!” Beth narrows her eyes at me. “This sounds almost too good to be true.” Even at sixteen, she clearly understands the concept that there is no such thing as a free lunch.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
“Well… Okay… Fuck, I can’t believe it!” Her worry fades quickly into excitement.
“We have to pack over the weekend. We’re moving on Monday.”
“You said it’s just for twelve months, right? So, what are we doing with all our furniture and stuff?”
“I was thinking of keeping this place, so we can come back after the contract finishes. Or we could move somewhere else, wherever you want to go. I just want you fully recovered and healed so you can finish high school and start life afresh at uni.”
“Hell yeah!” Her excitement is contagious, and I can’t help but be swept up in it too.
“Here, help me cut up the rest of the veggies.” I slide over the chopping board and hand her the knife. “Soft or hard-shell tacos?”
“Por qué no los dos?” she says, mimicking the cute kid from the Old El Paso commercial.
God, Beth is such a weirdo . And I love her for it.
***
“I don’t see why we have to do this ourselves. Isn’t he super rich?” Beth whines.
“He’s sending movers, but we still need to be packed and ready to go tomorrow morning. Stop being a lazy shit.”
Beth and I spent Saturday hanging out and pampering each other. We made face masks and gave each other manicures and pedicures. It was nice to spend time at home, just the two of us. But I made Beth promise me that if we bummed around yesterday, we’d pack today.
“Do you really want a stranger going through your stuff anyway?” I reason.
“No, I suppose not,” she grumbles.
“Besides, you don’t have much to pack.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve got clothes, shoes, bags, toiletries, makeup, plus all my schoolwork and books—that’s heaps to pack! And you literally just said we had to empty out the pantry and fridge too. This is going to take forever.”
“Maybe we should’ve started yesterday, like I wanted to,” I say, a tad smug.
“Did you forget I have a heart condition? Exertion isn’t good for me.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve got no one to blame for her laziness but myself. She likes to push the boundaries with what she can get away with, using her illness as an excuse. Exercise is good for her, but it’s been a constant battle to get her to do even the lightest cardio.
“You’re not doing any heavy lifting. You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, flipping through one of our photo albums. I’m trying to treat her like every other teenager. But it’s difficult when my instincts are to wrap her in cotton wool and protect her from the world.
She hums her dissatisfaction.
“Hey, check this out.” I stop at a photo of us when Beth was six and I was eighteen. It was shortly after we arrived in Australia, and I took her to get ice cream at Bronte Beach. In the picture both of us have huge grins on our faces, and our ice cream cones are melting down our hands. My arm is around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly into my side. I remember asking a random stranger to take the photo for us.
“I remember that,” she says, looking over my shoulder at the photo.
“Really? You were only six. But it feels like it was just yesterday for me,” I say fondly.
“We look happy.”
“We were. Honestly, I had no clue what I was doing raising a kid, but I figured it out along the way.” I shrug.
“I know I don’t say this enough, but thank you for taking me with you. I don’t remember much about Mom, but it must have been rough. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you with a sick little kid holding you down.” She blows out a breath and runs a hand through her ponytail. “I can’t wait to start the next chapter of my life—with a new heart and without this hanging over our heads.”
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close. “I know, and I’ll always have your back, no matter how old you are.”
We pull apart and I smile softly. “Let’s get back to work. This house isn’t going to pack itself.” Carefully, I place the photo album in the “take” pile and head to the kitchen to clear out the cupboards.
Three hours later, I stand in the entryway and release an exhausted sigh at all the stuff we’ve put aside to pack. I reach for my car keys. “I’m going to grab more boxes.” Thankfully we’re not packing up the entire house, furniture and all. I shudder at the thought. It’s enough to make me swear off moving forever.
“Great, I’m going for a nap then,” Beth announces, already heading upstairs to her bedroom. I guarantee that I won’t see her again until I’ve finished all the packing.