Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Do you want him back?
I’ve been afraid to answer Mama’s question, but with my face wet from tears and my heart heavy, aching, I can’t avoid it anymore.
I do.
I want Josiah back in my life as more than a friend, more than just the father of my children. I want him back in my bed.
I want him back.
Was I the one who asked for the divorce? Yes.
Did I make mistakes? God, yes.
Does it feel insurmountable? I have to admit it does.
But he was maybe jealous of Mark tonight. He called me baby. He looked at me with desire and affection. I can work with that. I can build on that. I have to try. Before I let go of the past and grab hold of a future without him, I have to be sure. I don’t know when or if I’ll get a second chance, but as long as it’s possible, I’ll hold on to hope.
I stutter-step back to the fountain in my heels, not even checking to see if my friends are following me. I return to the spot where I stood, where I tossed the past into a well of wishes, and I lean over to peer into the water. The lights in the fountain floor illuminate piles and piles of coins, but no necklace.
“I was standing right here,” I mutter, propping a knee on the rim of the fountain, leaning over and peering in. “It has to be here.”
I have no right to hope my happily ever after with Josiah will come around again. It’s irrational. It’s unfair. I did this to us, to him, to myself. I don’t deserve a second chance, but is it worth fighting for?
Is he?
Before I talk myself out of it, I take off the heels and step into the icy water, shuddering from the cold. People around me gasp, some laugh. I ignore them and step through the shallow water, eyes peeled for the glint of a diamond among the copper coins.
A small splash to my right distracts me from the search. Hendrix stands with me, the legs of her pantsuit rolled up past her knees. Soledad joins us in the middle of the fountain, barefoot and shivering. We triangulate a look between the three of us, and, in unison, bust out laughing.
“What are we looking for?” Hendrix asks.
“A gold necklace,” I tell them, resuming my focused perusal of the fountain floor. “With a tiny diamond ring and a wheel charm.”
After a few minutes of fruitless searching, panic grips me. As irrational as it sounds, it feels like if I can’t save that necklace, I can’t save us. I bend, pawing through mounds of coins, trickles of tears warming my cold cheeks. I’m about to give up, when a stream of gold catches my eye. I reach for it, scooping up the chain with the charm and ring suspended from it.
“I got it!” I tell my friends, who are still searching the fountain floor. A whoop goes up from the people gathered around the fountain watching me make a fool of myself. The necklace is still cold and wet, but I slip it over my head and back around my neck, tucking it into my dress again.
The three of us make our way to the rim of the fountain, gingerly stepping over and out.
“Do we get to know what that was all about?” Hendrix asks, unrolling her pant legs and picking up her shoes.
“Can I just thank you now and tell you later?” I ask, not prepared for where my confessions will lead us for the rest of the night. I want to rest and sleep, and being up all night unpacking my feelings won’t allow for either.
“Yes,” Soledad says, leveling a pointed look at Hendrix when she says, “No,” at the same time. “You’ll tell us when the time is right.”
“I will.” I link my arms through each of theirs and guide us back onto the cobblestone walkway leading to Hendrix’s apartment. “For now just know I don’t need wishes as long as I have hope.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Yasmen
I messed up.”
I pace back and forth before Dr. Abrams, linking my hands behind my neck. Sunshine from the window filters through the leaves of hanging plants suspended all around her office. Her desk sits in the far corner, neat and orderly, a few stacks of papers dotting the surface. She gestures to the chair where I usually sit—where we face each other in the comfortable armchairs by the windows, sunbathing our conversations in light and warmth. I’ve worked through so many of my emotions there. It’s the very spot where I came to terms with so many hurts and wrestled my demons to the ground. But this time, I don’t think there is an affirmation, meditation, or journal entry that can help me live with the consequences of what I’ve done. In the stark cold of morning, realizing I want Josiah back was as much a curse as a blessing. It’s waking up in a nightmare of my own making.