Page 71 of Until Nalia
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the e-mails.”
“It’s okay.” I smooth my fingers down her soft cheek. “But I want you to know that you can always talk to me about anything and everything.”
“Alright.” She agrees, sounding tired.
“Try to sleep, honey.” I press my lips to her forehead, then tuck her head under my chin and close my eyes. I don’t know how long we lay like that, but when I hear her breathing even out, I lean back to look at her and study the fall of the lashes on her cheeks, and the pout of her lips as I listen to her barely audible snore.
I wonder if this is how my mom felt when my siblings and I were little, and she’d watch us rest peacefully after a long day where everything seemed heavier than usual, but somehow okay because the most important things in her life were alright. I imagine that if I asked her about it she’d tell me the answer was yes, and I’m sure that she’d also tell me that having all of us made everything better even when it was hard.
Drawing in a breath, I kiss the top of Zuri’s head, then carefully scoot away from her and get off the bed, managing not to wake her in the process, which goes to show how tired she is. After dragging her blanket up over her shoulders, I quietly walk to the door, close it behind me, and head down the hall to my room. Once I’m in the shower, a few minutes later, I let the water wash away the tears I refused to cry earlier while listening to Zuri.
Getting out of the shower, I go through my whole nightly routine, then put on my robe and walk back into my room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Picking up my cell, I find a message from Logan asking me to let him know when Zuri has gone to sleep so that he can come over.
I wasn’t planning on seeing him again today but after what happened with my parents in his kitchen, I should have assumed he wouldn’t let me go to bed or go to bed himself without making sure that I was okay. Especially since he and I couldn’t exactly talk without the kids overhearing. I send him a message to let him know she's asleep and as I’m getting dressed, he sends me a text letting me know that he’s on his way over.
Grabbing my oversized sweater, I put it on over my sleep set then make my way out the backdoor and turn on the firepit before I pad barefoot though the living room. As I’m opening the front door, I watch his Jeep pull into the driveway, then his lights turn off before he opens his door and gets out.
As he walks up the sidewalk, I notice that his hair is wet as well, that he’s changed into a pair of shorts and a tee, and that he’s carrying a bottle of wine in his hand. I guess that I’m the one who needs a drink tonight.
When he gets to the top step on the porch, he stops in front of me, opening his arms, and I fall against him, melting against his chest and feeling myself relax for the first time since I left him earlier. It should worry me that he’s become someone I can lean on like I am, but I’m trying not to question it at this point.
“Come on.” His lips rest against my hair for a moment before he lets me go and leads me inside, closing the door behind him and locking it. “Where’s your wine opener?” He asks when we get to the kitchen.
I take it out of the drawer and pass it to him. “Are you having a glass?”
“No, baby.” He starts working on the cork while I take down one of my long stem glasses. After he fills it, he passes it over to me and I lead him out back where I already have the firepit on. “You okay?” he asks settling on the outdoor couch next to me and I lift my feet to the cushion and wrap my arm around my shins keeping my wine glass in hand.
“It’s been a mentally exhausting day,” I admit, and his face softens as he reaches over and slides his finger along my cheek to behind my ear, taking a chunk of hair with it. “All the stuff with Sharon, then the conversation with my parents…” I drag in a breath. “It’s not a conversation I ever planned on having with them.”
“I’m glad you did.” My eyes slide closed as I picture the look of hurt on my parents’ faces when I stupidly said out loud something I’ve thought for years. The intrusive thought of owing them something for the life I was given has traveled with me throughout my life and impacted decisions I’ve made and the relationships I’ve had, not just with my family but with friends and partners. Never feeling like I was good enough, always feeling like I had to prove myself or earn my keep, is a weight I’ve carried around for so long that I forgot how heavy it was until I spoke it out loud and watched the weight of those thoughts settle on the shoulders of the people I love most in this world.
“I told my mom that I would call the therapist that she uses.” I open my eyes and find his image distorted by the tears filling my eyes.
“I think that would be good, baby.”
“Me too,” I admit, scraping my teeth over my bottom lip, which feels swollen from crying multiple times today. “I’m also going to have Zuri start talking to someone.”
“You spoke with her?”
“Yeah.” I swallow over the lump in the back of my throat. “She said that she hasn’t returned Sharon’s e-mails because she was asking her to talk to me about getting money together for her lawyer so that she could come home.” I watch his jaw get tight. “She told me that she's afraid of having to go back to how things were and that she doesn’t want to move back to Colorado with her mom.”
“That’s understandable.”
“I hate that I can’t guarantee her that will never happen, when the reality is that Sharon could possibly get out of prison for one reason or another and get custody back because the system will see her as the right person for Zuri to live with despite her not being the right person at all,” I choke out the last part as he takes my glass from me setting it on the table then pulls me into his arms. “And I now know that she’s worried about that too, so it makes me even more worried.” I bury my face against his chest as I try to control the tears clogging my throat. “It sucks I can’t protect her from this stuff.”
“I know it does, baby.” He holds me tighter.
“I just want her to be a kid and enjoy these few short years where the only thing she really needs to worry about is doing homework and going to school.”
“You’ll give her that. You already do,” he says without a shred of doubt in his tone. “And I’ll help you fight however I can if it ever comes to that.”
“Thank you.” I wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater and let the weight of my head fall against his collarbone while the quiet of the night settles around us.
“The kids spoke to Kristy,” he says after a long time of the two of us just sitting in silence, watching the flames dancing across the fire pit. I tip my chin back to look at him. “She’s bringing them home early Sunday so that they don’t miss out on hanging at your parents’ place.”
“Mom will be happy about that.” I leave out that I will too. “She sent me a message to let me know that she and Dad made it home and told me how much she enjoyed meeting your kids and how amazing they both are.”
“We both got some great kids.”
