Page 70 of Speechless

“Do you like my matzo balls?”

I start to sing.

“Are they the perfect size?

Do you prefer them in your mouth or against your thighs?”

Now her mouth goes slack. “Did you just sexualize matzo ball soup?”

“Come on, Luce. You were asking for it.”

33

Lucy

It’s beenover a week since my surgery and Henry has not left my side. He’s also brought me every possible dessert I could ever think of. And while there's a constant loop in my head of Henry’s lips on mine, all he seems to care about is how I’m recovering.

He even refused to let me drive myself to my follow-up appointment yesterday. There was no way in hell I was letting him come in with me so the poor guy just sat in the waiting room for over an hour. On the way out I’m afraid he might have heard the doctor tell me I should strongly consider the removal soon. Luckily, it seemed as though he had no idea what she was referring to.

I know he wants me to talk about this with him, to share all the details, and he’s so supportive that it’s tempting. I just can’t get the images of Jack out of my head, of his disappointment, of him asking for a divorce as soon as he realized what a life with me would entail. And Henry still won’t talk about our night together. I’ve tried to apologize numerous times about going to Adamma’s, about running away, but he won’t even hear of it. It’s like he’s afraid of what I’ll say, and honestly, so am I.

So for now, I’m focusing on my book. It’s a bit ironic but I’m definitely channeling Henry. Life is too much to handle right now, so I’m directing all my energy to my work. And getting pages to my editor on time is a very added bonus.

I finally figured out my ending, or lack thereof, I guess. I’m going to leave it open, maybe even write a sequel. If it can’t have a happily ever after, why does it have to end at all? And Adamma was right; adding in the romance was exactly what it needed.

I’m proud of myself. I wrote something dark and gritty andcompelling. And so what if the reader isn’t smiling and giddy at the end? Their jaws will drop—because surprise! The female leadisthe beast (thanks, Henry)—and somehow that’s even more satisfying.

I keep wondering why I’ve always been so focused on the ending. Every book I’ve written before this one, I started with the final chapter. It seems so childish now. I think I treated my own life the same way, always focusing on the finish line. But I’m starting to realize that finding the perfect partner or having the perfect family isn’t an ending at all. It’s more like the prologue. What happensnextis the story. And I’m finally feeling like my story isn’t over, that maybe it hasn’t even begun.

We’re just finishingbreakfast at the kitchen island when Graham asks Henry if he can talk to me alone for a bit. I don’t think Henry has ever been away from his piano this long—and he seems to trust Graham not to break me—so he shuffles down to the studio to give us some privacy.

“How you feeling, Little Lu?” He wraps me in a toasty hug before I can respond. Graham is my rock, such a huge source of comfort for me. I hate that I hurt him. He guides me over to the sectional where Rowan is lounging, and we sit down to snuggle with him.

“Thank you for getting Henry to detach for a minute. I’m really fine. I told you guys I’ve done this before. It’s not a difficult recovery. I could go skydiving tomorrow, really.”

“You? Skydiving?” He looks at me like I've lost my mind, and well, he’s right. I would never, ever go skydiving.

“You know what I mean.”

“Just let us baby you, Luce. Especially Henry. I’m not sure why but I think he needs it.” Row chooses this moment to aggressively lick my hand, like he’s showing Graham he’s part of my caregiving team as well.

I agree to let them dote on me a little longer, even though I’m starting to develop a sugar addiction worse than before. But now there’s an awkward silence hanging between us. We haven’t been alone together since right before I went to the hospital. There’s so much that’s been left unsaid.

“Graham, I’m so sorry. You were right about everything. I shouldn’t have let things get that far with Henry, I just—”

“It’s because you can’t have kids, isn’t it? The divorce, the way you refuse to admit you could have a future with Henry.”

I’m not sure how to respond. I know I’m just staring back at him and now my eyes are starting to burn. I haven’t explained anything to him because I didn’t want to explain it to Henry, but now it feels like I’m hiding. I don’t think I want to live like that anymore.

“Yeah, it is. It’s also—well, it’s more than that. I’m getting a hysterectomy. Before the end of the year.” A strange sound pours out of me and I can't tell if I’m laughing or crying or both, but Graham just watches me, urging me on. “I’m going to go through menopause before I turn thirty-one. So yeah, it’s probably not the ideal time to start a new relationship.”

“Luce . . .” He wraps his arms around me, tighter this time. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” I snuggle in closer to him, trying to steal all of his warmth.

“Want to talk about where we’ll hide the body if Jack shows up here again?

I snort, but Graham’s face is cold as stone.

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