Page 264 of Cross the Line
My hands brace on the stone counter. I hold myself in place so I don’t race straight to her door. As much as I want to be there for her, I’ve learned that unless she asks, she doesn’t want to be crowded. She needs space and time to rebuild.
“People see her as a has-been, a junkie…”
“She’s still your mom.”
A breath hitches. “Yeah, and she’s a good person at heart. She’s a good soul… just broken. And I don’t know how to fix her. How to make this world better for her… kinder…” A beat, then a whisper. “I don’t want to lose her. In spite of everything I do, it still feels like I will. Eventually.”
“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, and the consequences of their actions aren’t your fault. You know?”
It’s taken me time and a lot of self-inflicted torment to accept that we can only hold ourselves accountable for the choices we make. I wish I could make Christina see it, too, because I don’t want her to hurt. Nevertheless, I think this is a life lesson that we all have to learn for ourselves.
“My head knows that… but, my heart?” A sigh blusters through the loudspeaker. “My heart, not so much.”
Giving her time to keep talking to me, I pull up Uber Eats while she talks, scrolling to Frei Étoile. Building a care package takes a minute—the menu is lethal. Today calls for their famed French pastries and German pretzels with all the cheeses and cold cuts, plus homemade cherry jelly and almond butter to put a smile on her face.
I’m placing the order when she says, “She left me a note this time. Normally, she just disappears.”
“What did it say?”
“Thank you, and that she’d see me soon.” Clearing her throat: “I know soon means next time she needs money, but she’s never left me a note before, Fin. Feels kind of big for her.”
I don’t say it’s the least her mom could do, even if it’s on my tongue. Instead: “It is big…”
Because in spite of how I feel, her mom’s acknowledgment is something Christina needs. It means the world to her.
“Anyway, moving on…are we on for this weekend?” she chirps with a forced upbeat trill to her tone.
“Carbs, cocktails, and conversation are the perfect girly brunch. Obviously, it wouldn’t be complete without retail therapy, so maybe you can come help me find Eli’s birthday gift?”
“I’m thinking one of those real-life vagina replicas, and if you wanted to make it a super gift for a real good time, you could do your ass, too.”
“Christina!” It’s taken her seconds to flip the conversation and take it to the gutter, and it’s making me happy to get a sliver of her usual sass. “They have the real thing right here, so… not this time.”
“Party pooper.”
“But you know…” I start—and she knows where I’m going, because she groans and sings a chorus of “lalalalalala” while I continue, “I’m sure Matheo would totally love it.”
“No. Nope. Not listening,” she chants while I tell her how lonely he is and how he’s moping like a sad puppy.
We bounce across topics as we catch up. She gets her breakfast gift basket, and we keep chatting while she eats her feelings, and I finish prepping brunch.
Only when Summer calls do I hang up. She’s panicked, sobbing so hard I can’t understand a word until Parker takes the phone and reiterates everything in a calmer tone.
“Summer can’t make the call with the High Tea Society,” he says, obviously working to keep it together.
“No problem, I got it,” blurts out of me—even though a meeting this big is so far out of my wheelhouse my heart punches into my throat.
“Thank you, Finley.”
“Parker? Is Summer okay? The baby?”
He clears his throat. “Uhh, yeah. Yeah, they’re fine. Summer’s waters broke earlier, and it’s too early, so her obstetrician is keeping her under close watch in case things progress and they need to intervene.”
“Oh-o-okay…” I pull up her messages from earlier to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Just random notes on other projects. “Can you keep me updated? I’ll handle clients and timelines.”
“You are a godsend. Yes, I’ll let you know how things move forward. Thank you.”
“Tell her I have everything covered—no worry, no stress. Tell her to focus on her and your little girl.”
