Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
I snort and roll my eyes, but smile. “I haven’t had a period in four months. So the first thing is to get it back. The homeopath is shipping a new detox treatment to see if that helps. I’m not doing hormone replacement for now. Trying alternative routes to manage the symptoms. We’ll see what happens.”
“We should figure out if there’s a family history.” Kayla’s brows gather together. I recognize that frown. It’s mine whenever a candidate puts his dick in the wrong place or says something stupid into a live mic. Problem-solving mode.
“Look, you have five kids and the foundation and God knows what to take care of. I got this.”
“See, that’s your problem,” she snaps, fire igniting in her dark eyes. “You always got something all by yourself. I’m your sister, Tru, even though you haven’t been around for years, and we are every one of us damn proud of you.” Her smooth throat moves with a hard swallow. “Daddy would be proud of you.”
We stare down at our linked fingers and seem to hold the burden of grief in our two hands. And it does feel good not to carry it alone.
“Let me be there for you,” she says. “I’m actually really good at it.”
I nod, swiping at a renegade tear slipping from my eye despite my best efforts to stem them. “Okay, Zee.”
The door wrenches open, and a wide-eyed Triniti stands in its frame. “Joseph threw up.”
“Lord above,” Kayla mutters. “I don’t do vomit. Lawrence better be glad his ass is out of town.”
“I have a strong stomach,” I assure her with a chuckle. “You get back to hair and I’m on clean-up duty.”
“Okay, but you know you’re still washing at least one of those heads, right?”
Busted.
We’re at the door when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Mona: Cookout at my place this weekend. You’re coming.
I did enjoy lunch with Mona and Ezra. It was like old times, but with a lot more innuendo and alcohol. And Ezra’s fine ass. It’s quite irritating how attractive he’s become, and how my body seems to have this Jones for brilliant, nice Jewish boys with African violet eyes.
But I knew that already.
It feels good to actively be attracted to someone and not have to force myself to like him, to fuck him, to whatever. There’s something delicious about the tension of the forbidden, how you dance around its edges, like caressing a trip wire. I shouldn’t because it’s obvious the attraction is so damn mutual. I don’t think he’d ever act on it. He’s a good man. Hell, I’m a good woman. We have a past. Shared our first kiss, for goodness’ sake. It’s probably just phantom crush pains. I’m strong enough to resist and Ezra’s good enough to keep us safe.
The smell of whatever was in Joseph’s little stomach hits us as soon as we enter the room, and Kayla waves her hand in front of her nose. “You sure you got it?”
I pull my phone out and type a quick reply.
Me: I’ll be there!
“Yeah, I got it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ezra
“You find any ripe ones, Noah?”
My son waddles into view from behind a tomato vine, dragging a huge white bucket overflowing with tomatoes.
“All these!” Noah strains to lift the bucket, raising it approximately half an inch. “Are we taking them to Aunt Mona’s cookout?”
“Some of them.” I lift my bucket of cucumbers and relieve him of his burden, too, then head down a row of the garden toward the house. “But we’re filthy. The Stern men need showers.”
When Noah begged us to plant a garden, it was the last thing I had time for, but he’s easily satisfied and doesn’t ask for much. When other kids wanted expensive tennis shoes or the latest video game, he asked for a garden in our backyard. How could we deny him? My only condition was that he had to help dig it, plant the seeds and maintain it. At one of the busiest times of my life, as the school was taking off, the garden became a way for Noah and me to connect every day.
My cell phone is ringing on the kitchen counter when we walk into the mudroom and remove our dirty work boots.
“Maybe it’s Mommy!” Noah yells, running inside ahead of me.
“Do not answer my phone until I know who it is.” I bring the two buckets of vegetables into the kitchen and let the door slam behind me. If it is Aiko calling, I’ll let Noah do all the talking. We spoke briefly a few days ago when she let us know she’d landed safely, and she said she would call back after they settled some. She and Chaz can have sex several times a day as far as I’m concerned, but it still feels weird talking to her and wondering if it’s happening. When she returns, we have a new reality for Noah to acclimate to. I can’t stand the thought of seeing him half the week while he’s at another house with Aiko the rest of the time. But when she comes home, we’ll figure it out.