Page 130 of This Could Be Us

Her words are tender, like her mother needs to be handled with care. We so rarely get that with our kids. It doesn’t always occur to them thatweneed care too. I know the fighting, the tension, the divorce, Edward’s incarceration—it’s all been a lot on them, maybe more than they’ve been able to articulate or realize. There’s only so much of their innocence I can preserve.

I glance into the kitchen, where Inez and Lupe are having an intense conversation at the sink. Lupe thrusts her finger into Inez’s face, a scowl snapping her brows together. Inez leans up into her sister’s space, not backing down as they hiss at each other. I’m not even going to intervene. Enough for tonight. I slip out the back door and pad across the yard, wet grass cold on my heels in the faux-mink slippers I can’t seem to stop wearing.

“Well, I know what my sisters are getting for Christmas,” I mumble, letting myself into the she shed. Usually walking in here gives me a sense of pride, the progress I’m making serving to encourage me. Tonight, though, all I see is the shambles Edward left behind. The hole where his Celtics jersey used to hang. Wallpaper plastered to half the back wall, the dull paint Edward wanted still covering the other half. Everything appears undone, half-done, far from finished. And that’s how I feel tonight. Like a messy room still marked by Edward’s mistakes mingling with my own.

I half-heartedly pick up the roll of wallpaper, determined to makesomething in this room better before I go to sleep. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and when I pull it out, seeing a text from Judah makes me drop the wallpaper.

Judah:Is it okay to call?

I don’t reply but dial him, my heart hammering. Nervousness, excitement, dread—all the emotions buzz in an anxious hive under my rib cage.

“Hey,” he says, answering before the first ring finishes. “How are you?”

“Fine. I guess. Inez tried to call me out at dinner.” I laugh humorlessly and flop onto the chaise. “That probably didn’t go the way she thought it would.”

“What happened?”

“She said maybe my rich boyfriend can take care of us since her father won’t be able to go back to his old job once he gets out of prison. The prison that you put him in, obviously and by the way.”

“Ouch.”

“My sentiments exactly. I think Lupe is reading her for filth as we speak, though, so I take small comfort in that.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That we’re not dating, but that I do like you and…” I trail off because it all sounds so inadequate. “It’s complicated.”

“I see,” he says.

“Everything’s mixed up. I want to do what’s best for them, but I also want what’s best for us. I want to be fair to you. I want to make sure I’m ready for whatever this is we’re starting.”

The air feels weighty with the words he hasn’t voiced yet. “And I don’t want to make things any harder for you, Sol. Maybe we should just not do this right now. It’s causing complications for you at home with your daughters. It’s making you feel conflicted. And for what? Just sex?”

“It’s not, Judah.” I pull my knees up and rest my forehead against them, closing my eyes at the hurt hiding beneath the cool tone he usually uses with the rest of the world, but not with me. “It’s not just sex and you know it.”

“You’re not ready for more. It’s the wrong time for your daughters with the Edward thing so fresh. It’s the wrong time for you because you’re not ready for a relationship. I don’t want to take away from it, but I—”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I lift my head, pain gathering behind my breastbone so acute I press my hand there to relieve it.

“How could I be when we’re not together?”

“We have something, though.”

“You think I don’t know that?” The words blaze through the cool wall he erected between us. “You are doing what you have to do, Sol. I’ve told you I understand. Do that. Handle that.”

He draws in a harsh breath.

“You’re very much occupied with cleaning up the past and getting things right for your new reality, as you should be, but the whole time you’re trying to fix what was, all I can think about is what we could be. I want my boys to know you. I want you to meet Tremaine. Really meet her and her husband, Kent. I want you to meet my parents. Did you know my father is making your Crock-Pot recipes?”

“Your dad is wh—”

“Well, he is, and he’d be thrilled to learn that my girlfriend is that pretty woman from the Facebook because he’s old and Facebook’s about as much as he wants to manage these days.”

“Judah—”

“Only you’re not my girlfriend. You’re this amazing woman I sneak around and sleep with on the weekends, on lunch breaks. Who I see more online than I do in real life. And I thought I could do this in-between, limbo thing where I get to share your bed, but nothing else.”

“That’s not true,” I tell him, tasting salty tears in the corners of my mouth. “It’s more than that.”

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