Page 14 of Honey Bun
“Dad called you.” She handed me back my phone.
I winced, then I hoped she hadn’t seen me do that. “I told him I wanted a divorce.”
She let out a breath. “I’m staying with you.”
“I’d never be happy without you.”
Her lips curved higher. “I’m great, and I’m happy we’re moving to the city.”
I kissed her forehead. Luck was finally on our side. I put my phone back in the pocket of my new jeans. “Me too. We’ll do something you want every weekend.”
She met my eyes and didn’t blink. “Sounds good. Look, today, I’m going with the kids next door to the beach.”
The Solomons lived next door. I hadn’t seen them since we showed up here. I narrowed my gaze. “You didn’t mention them.”
She shrugged. “You seem happy, and you said to treat this like a vacation.”
My daughter had a better head on her shoulders than I’d ever had, so I said, “Okay, have fun, and call if you need something.”
She waved me off and continued texting on her phone, and I grabbed the keys and headed to the truck. The engine turned on with a roar. I tugged the throttle and drove through town. As a girl, I’d been happy to escape to the beach, and it was nice that my daughter now had that chance. Leaving Bob had been worth it.
As I drove to the hill and glanced up at the huge mansion on the bluff, I smiled. Arman’s life and my life were nothing alike. I remembered as a girl believing he was blessed. His parents had pushed him to be a doctor, but he had other plans. They didn’t fight him or berate him. Instead, they let him decide his life and provided him with a cushion so he would never face fallout of failure. I’d envied him for having a family who loved him without question. If I’d had more belief in myself, I would have left mine years before and lived a very different life from the one I had.
I headed to the Norouzis’ garden shed and unloaded the flowers. Fred, the gardener, came in while I was putting them in his work space, and he joined me. Once we were done, he said, “Thanks for pitching in.”
Pitching in was my job that day. I nodded. “No worries.”
He wiped his dirty hands on a rag and pointed me to the sink and paper towels. “You’re expected at the main house.”
“Sounds fine.” I cleaned the soil off my hands then walked the backyard path toward the main house. The patio outside was set up like they’d just had breakfast, and the croissants still smelled warm and fresh. My mouth watered as I headed inside.
The grand room had been redecorated since the last time I’d been there. Even the chandelier was new. The sight of handwoven silk rugs made me reach down and remove my shoes. Arman’s family never wore shoes in their home, as they had some belief about germs, so I left mine outside the French doors of the patio.
As I finished, I glanced up into the kind brown eyes of the mother I’d always half wanted. She held out both her arms and hugged me. “Madeleine, it’s nice to see you.”
I hugged her and closed my eyes. She’d been my idol growing up. She was always happy and had such interesting stories from her work as an interior designer for her Hollywood and New York clients. Most importantly, she had the answers to any questions. She always knew what to do.
As she let me go, I said, “You too, Mrs. Norouzi.”
She directed us outside again and pointed me toward the croissants as if she’d read my mind earlier. “We’re all adults now, Madeleine. Please call me Roxanne.”
I rocked on my feet. “I just dropped off my mother’s plants.”
She handed me a plate and took one for herself. “My son will never forgive me if I let you go before he comes down. He decided to oversleep.”
I took some fruit and a croissant since they were already there. Sampling her chef’s food was a treat. We took a seat, and she took out her carafe and poured us each a cup of black tea. “Would you like sugar?”
The reddish cubes of sugar with hints of saffron inside them were delicious. I hadn’t had this in years. “I shouldn’t stay. I’m not dressed for your home.”
She reached out and placed her hands on mine. “You absolutely should. It’s refreshing to see you. Now that Joel—Arman’s brother, best friend, and business partner—is married, I’m hoping he’ll be next to settle down and you two will start dating again.”
Technically, I was still married. My shoulders slumped. He’d said he was free, but maybe we were friends because someone else had his heart. I stirred my tea. “‘Dating’ is a strong word.”
She leaned closer and asked with a huge smile on her face, “Why? Because you’re a divorced mother?”
My skin burned. I hardly belonged in this world or near Arman and his family. “No, because I’m not divorced yet.”
“Jeff can help. He needs the practice.” She sipped her tea. “Do you want a divorce?”
