Done Being The Substitute

Synopsis

The day I lost the baby, Phillip Archer sent me a message. Phillip: [Laura's back in town. Clear out the master bedroom. She can't stand hotels.] I was lying on the emergency gurney, pain twisting through my abdomen, blood seeping bit by bit beneath the white sheets. The doctor pressed my phone back into my hand, his voice urgent. "Where's your family? We need a signature right now." I stared at the message for three seconds, then suddenly laughed. So this was what it felt like when a woman finally gave up. I only felt despair and coldness. I called Phillip. It rang for ages before he finally picked up. The background was noisy, like an airport, and a woman's soft, sweet laughter cut through the static. "Phillip, my bags are so heavy," Laura's voice chimed in, sounding playful. Then Phillip's voice cut in, low and steady, as if he was just handling another ordinary task. "Bella, I'm busy right now. Laura just landed. Don't start anything."