Part 4: The Missed Receipt

Two weeks later another payment was late. The amount was not enormous, but it paid for an appointment and medication that I had already covered. I sent a reminder through the shared account and gave Adrian the date specified in our agreement.

He replied that he was traveling and would deal with it when he returned. I forwarded the exchange to Priya. She advised me on the next step under the agreement and contacted his attorney. The payment arrived the following day.

Adrian called that evening. “Did you have to involve lawyers over one receipt?”

“This is the second delay. I need the process we agreed to work.”

“I said I'd pay it.”

“And I need to know when. I can't plan around a promise with no date.”

He sighed. For a moment I heard the old conversation beginning, the one where he called my questions difficult and I tried to prove they were reasonable. I stopped it before we reached the familiar ending.

“We can discuss the babies,” I said. “The payment issue goes through the account and our attorneys.”

He was quiet. Then he asked whether I had chosen names. I told him I had possibilities but wanted to wait. He said he had written down three of his own. I asked him to send them through the account so I could look when I had time.

The landlord repaired the handrail and arranged a safe place for deliveries inside the entrance. The change was modest, but it meant I no longer had to carry every package up the steps immediately. Mrs. Patel offered to call me if something arrived while I was out.

My editor client sent feedback on the first part of the project. I made the revisions over two mornings, taking breaks as my care team had advised. When I finished, I sent an invoice and resisted checking for a reply every hour. The work mattered to me, not only for the money but because it reminded me that I had a life and skills beyond the role everyone could see.

Adrian's list of names arrived that night. One was the same as a name in my notebook. I smiled despite myself. Another belonged to his grandfather. The third was a name I had never heard him mention.

Why that one? I wrote.

My grandmother used to read me stories with that name, he answered. I thought it sounded kind.

We exchanged a few messages about books and family memories. Then he asked whether the babies would stay with him immediately after birth. I told him that decisions about their care would depend on their needs, my recovery, medical guidance, and the arrangements we made with appropriate advice. I would not make a promise over a late-night message.

He did not reply for several hours. In the morning he wrote, I don't know how to plan for something when I can't control the date.

Neither do I, I answered. We can plan who to call and what to ask.

I turned to the first page of his notebook and added a fourth heading: People to contact. The list was beginning to look like something we could both use.