Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“And what’d he think about that?” Hendrix asks with lifted brows.
“I think his exact words were ‘Who the fuck cares?’” I say, laughing a little, even while I swipe at the wetness under my eyes.
“Let’s think about this, Sol.” Hendrix starts counting on her fingers. “One, he stalks you online because he wants to know and understand you.”
“‘Stalk’ is a strong word.”
She bends a knowing look on me, twisting her lips.
“Okay, essentially stalking, yes.” I giggle. “But in the best way.”
“Two,” she says, raising another finger, “Edward prioritized his goals over yours and didn’t see you staying home as valuable.”
“Right,” I sigh, surprised to only feel a twinge of irritation at the memory, not the hurt it used to engender.
“And this man, Judah, actually stayed home with his boys, taking time from work so his ex-wife wouldn’t get too far behind in her career.”
“He’s a saint among men, isn’t he?”
“Three”—another finger—“you said he sees you reading All About Love and starts reading it, too, to interrogate his male privilege.”
“When I asked, ‘Are you reading All About Love?’ he said, ‘Aren’t you?’”
“Girl, I know because he put your sperm donor in prison, it could feel like Judah is the last man you should be with,” Hendrix says, putting down all three fingers to reach across the counter and squeeze my hand. “But it sounds to me like the universe delivered exactly the right one—someone who has seen the whole of your journey, watched you grow, understands your fears, your reservations, your boundaries, and accepts them all.”
“You’re so right, and it’s like every time I raise the bar for what I should expect from a partner, Judah clears it. Easily. I’ve learned that revealing yourself to your partner should bring healing, not harm. That a true intimate relationship is a safe place with no facades. A space where you can be wholly yourself. I have that with Judah.”
“Then don’t throw it away. Give it a chance. Give yourself a chance.”
The foyer door opens, interrupting us. Hendrix and I share a glance that promises to finish this conversation later.
“Hey, Mom!” Lottie bounces into the kitchen, her long hair braided into straight backs inspired by Lola’s hairstyle during the holidays. “Hey, Aunt Hen.”
“Hey, honey.” I kiss her cheek. “How was school?”
“Great!” Her whole face lights up. “Coach said I—”
“School.” I wave a warning finger, but smile. “Not practice. Grades start falling and gymnastics goes away.”
“That won’t happen,” she hastens to assure me. “I’m going to do my homework right now.”
“You want a snack first?” I slide the cinnamon loaf across the counter in her direction.
“Homework!” She trots out of the kitchen. “I’ll eat later.”
Entering, Inez almost collides with her as Lottie leaves at a clip, following much more slowly from the front door.
“Hey, Nez,” I greet her. “Yasmen with you?”
“No, she said to tell you she had to get to Grits,” Inez says, “but to save her some cinnamon loaf.”
I give Hendrix an I told you so look before returning my attention to Inez. “Good day at school?”
She hesitates, fiddles with the beads on her backpack strap. “It was… okay. Something happened. I didn’t see it, but I heard about it.”
“Really?” I stand and collect Hendrix’s and my plates, walking them over to the dishwasher. “What happened?”
“The ambulance came,” she says, her voice and eyes lowered.
“Oh no.” I turn to face her. “I hope everything’s okay?”
Harrington takes no chances and will call an ambulance for a hangnail, so it doesn’t seem too unusual. If anything, a few parents have complained about having to foot the bill when “an emergency” could have been handled by the school nurse.
“Was it a student?” I press, trying to see the expression on Inez’s lowered face. “A teacher?”
“It was Adam,” she says, her eyes finally lifting to meet mine. “The ambulance came for Adam, Mom.”
My heart stops—stills—sprints, and I grip the edge of the sink. “Do you mean… Judah’s Adam? Adam Cross?”
Inez nods, her eyes clinging to mine. “Yeah. It was… I didn’t see, but I heard he had a seizure and hit his head.”
“Oh, God.” My hand flies to cover my mouth and I try to catch my breath. “But he… he was okay? Was he conscious by the time the—”
“No.” She shakes her head miserably. “They said he wasn’t.”
I don’t wait for more information.
“I’ll be back.” I grab my purse from the mudroom. “Hen, Lupe should be home in like ten minutes. Would you—”
“Go!” she urges, concern drawing her brows together. “I got ’em.”
I kick off my slippers and shove my feet into the sneakers by the door. Harrington always uses the hospital closest to the school for emergencies. I’ll start there. I can’t worry about Inez’s speculations or if she thinks I shouldn’t be with Judah, or if this will stoke her anger with me. I can’t even care whether Judah would welcome having me there or not. In my mind’s eye, I see my wrinkled pink slip of a grocery list tucked in the pages of Judah’s copy of All About Love. I see bags and bags of groceries on my front porch when we had no food. I see the focaccia basket he ordered thinking I would never even know he’d done it to support me.