Page 126 of This Could Be Us

“Ms. Bettes,” Tremaine says, “while we’re here, I just wanted to remind you that we’re trying a new seizure medication for Adam. We’re being really vigilant watching for any adverse reactions. Please let us know if you spot unusual behaviors or responses.”

“Will do.” Ms. Bettes slowly withdraws her hand from my sweater. “Thanks again for coming, Mr. Cross.”

As soon as we’ve told Adam goodbye and are in the hall, I ask Tremaine, “So was it my imagination, or was she—”

“Pushing up on you?” Tremaine chuckles, looping an infinity scarf around her neck as we head back to the front desk to check out. “Yeah. Definitely, but apparently she’s wasting her time since you’re head over heels for Soledad.”

“You’re imagining things,” I lie. I don’t even know why I lie, except I’m not sure we’re ready to share what’s going on with the world. I knowshe’snot. If her daughters found out, it might make things complicated. Even more complicated.

“You’re a bad liar,” Tremaine reminds me. “And the way you were salivating over that woman was frankly hard to watch. I was kinda cringing on your behalf.”

“I was not salivating.” I frown, wondering if I’m that obvious. “Was I?”

Tremaine stops in the hall to face me, setting her hands on her slim hips. She’s lean and almost as tall as I am. When she wears heels, we’re practically eye to eye.

“Should I be insulted that she’s my opposite in every way?” Tremaine asks. Despite the amused glint in her eye, I rush to disagree.

“What? No,” I say. “She’s actually a lot like you.”

“Light-skinned, hair all down her back, and not big as a minute?” Tremaine asks, but her eyes tell me she’s teasing. “Seems pretty much opposite to me.”

“You’re both fantastic mothers. You’re both smarter than me in the ways that actually count. She’s diligent and innovative and resilient and determined and compassionate.” I touch her shoulder, looking into her eyes to show my sincerity. “You’re both such good people.”

“I’m happy for you. Honestly, Kent and I had almost given up hope that you’d find anyone.”

“Thanks,” I say dryly.

“So how long has this been going on? Since all that shit went down with her husband?”

“Ex-husband, and no. We only recently started…”

I don’t know what to say. There’s no way I’m discussing sex with Tremaine. She’ll make fun of me for years to come if she finds out about the industrial-sized box of condoms in my nightstand.

“We only recently started seeing each other,” I settle on. “And it’s not public. Her girls don’t know. It’s awkward.”

“Because of the wholeYou put our dad in prisonthing?”

“Yeah, a little. Well, for one of them in particular. The middle daughter has been having a harder time than the other two seem to be.” I glance at my watch, grateful for an excuse to end this conversation. “Don’t you have a deposition?”

“Yeah.” She slants a knowing look at me. “Don’t think we’re done. I want to know everything.”

“Well, you won’t.”

We turn in our guest badges to a woman Tremaine recognizes as the librarian and head back out. A burst of laughter from the auditorium up the hall grabs my attention as we’re about to exit the building.

“You go on ahead,” I tell Tremaine distractedly. “I’m gonna use the bathroom before I leave.”

“The bathroom, huh?” Tremaine buttons up her coat and startstoward the door. “Tell your girlfriend I can’t wait to have her over for dinner. She can make that viral salad dressing for us.”

I don’t dignify that with a response. Keeping an eye out for Diane in case she drags me back to the front desk for a guest badge, I stealthily make my way toward the auditorium. I poke my head in just enough to see but not be seen. Soledad stands onstage behind a table, stirring something in a bowl and wearing an apron over her jumpsuit that saysI’M THE COOL MOM.

“This dish is one of my girls’ favorites,” she tells the assembled sixth graders. “It bakes all in one pan. This one’s vegetarian because Inez’s sister doesn’t eat meat. Promise you won’t miss it. I brought some samples for everyone. How’s that sound?”

The crowd cheers when students from the class walk the aisles carrying trays with little cups of the food and tiny plastic tasting spoons.

“Pass me that salt, Nez,” Soledad says to the young girl standing beside her. I’ve seen photos of the girls on Soledad’s social media, and I knew her oldest, Lupe, strongly resembles Edward but has red hair instead of his blond. Seeing them side by side, I notice for the first time the strong resemblance between Soledad and her middle daughter. Inez beams, pride in every line as she assists her mother.

“I know I’m here cooking.” Soledad pauses to address the crowd, stepping out from behind the table. “But I’m not just a cook. I’m an influencer. A content creator. That wasn’t even really a thing when I was growing up, but now it is.”

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