Now that his cousin knows about our ruse—and Russell, apparently, has no intention of keeping up with it—his inheritance is off the table. That’s the only reason he was ever with me.
With my phone on the sink, I give myself four minutes to cry, then run the cold water in the sink and do my best to cool down my puffy eyes.
Somehow, this is worse than the night my parents told me if I chose to have Gus, they would have nothing to do with him. Nothing to do with me. They couldn’t risk me hanging around town, and how that would fuck with dad’s image. How his daughter having a bastard son and no clue about the father would shatter their careful illusion of being perfect.
Losing Russell is worse than that, because this time, I’d actually let myself think I deserved him. That I could getsomething like a rich, successful, confident boyfriend to scoop me up into his arms. I let myself believe that this would be different than all the times before.
So not only do I feel the crushing weight of his loss, but I feel like an idiot for ever thinking I could have him in the first place. For trying again, in the waiting room today. Being desperate and putting all my cards on the table when Russell clearly isn’t even willing to go through with a paternity test for me.
There’s a knock on the door—not to the bathroom, but to the general hospital room—and I hear Gus greet the person loudly, excited. For a second, I think it might be Russell coming back, but when I open the door, I see Ettie standing on the far side of Gus’s hospital bed, placing a vase of flowers on the side table.
Dawson stands next to her, holding a balloon with a T-rex on it, already talking fast to Gus, who’s laughing and nodding with him.
When Ettie looks up and sees me, something on her face shifts. For a second, the four of us talk together, then she pulls me to the side while Dawson shows Gus something on his Nintendo Switch.
“What the hell happened to you?” she whispers, reaching around me to pull a hot drink from a holder on the table. I didn’t even notice it—or the spread of food—when I came out of the bathroom.
“…that stuff with Russell,” I admit, clearing my throat and accepting the drink, feeling indebted. I owe Ettie so much.
We’ve already talked about the fight with Sienna—and Sienna has already texted me, asking if we could talk—with Ettie assuring me that she’s never seen me like that, as someone who only takes.
“Remember when you dropped everything to watch Dawson for me on St. Patrick’s Day?”
“Yes, but?—”
“—and when I sprained my ankle, you double batched dinners for a week.”
“Sure, but Ettie?—”
“No buts,” she’d said, crossing her arms. “Sienna was pissed, and she said something she shouldn’t have. That doesn’t mean you should be taking it to heart.”
Now, she eyes me warily, “Your son is in the hospital, Jules. You get to be the one waited on for a bit.”
I swallow it down, grateful for how well she knows me, and when I take a sip of the drink, I realize it’s the herbal tea with lemonade we love from the coffee place down the street from our apartment building. It fills me with warmth and makes me feel, for a moment, better.
“Now, what happened?” Ettie asks, reaching up and brushing a thumb under my eye.
“Shit,” I whisper, voice hoarse, glancing back at the boys for a second. “Is it obvious?”
“Not to a five-year-old,” Ettie says, which makes me relax. The last thing Gus needs while healing from heart surgery is to worry about me.
“I tried talking to him again,” I whisper, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment. “In the waiting room. He just…left.”
“He didn’t see Gus after?” Ettie asks, her brow knitting together.
And, for some reason, I hate the idea that she might be thinking badly of Russell. Even thoughI’mpissed at him for this, and feeling completely crushed by him leaving, part of me doesn’t like the idea that my best friend might be judging him, too.
“No—he did,” I admit, frowning at the top of my drink, trying to keep the tears at bay. “And that was worse. Gus asked if he would come to the fundraiser thing. That play. And Russell said he wouldn’t make it, even when Gus…” I swallow, close my eyes,and drop my voice down so it’s barely audible, “Gus asked if Russ was his dad, would he come to the play?”
“Fuck,” Ettie whispers, glancing over her shoulder at the boys, who are none the wiser to our conversation. “I’m sorry Jules.”
I shake my head, just trying to keep from crying again. “Yeah. No. I mean—I should have known?—”
“No, none of that,” Ettie takes my shoulders and waits for me to look at her. “You can’t be responsible for other people’s behavior. Andshould have knownis definitely doing that, Jules.”
“Right,” I say, half-heartedly. After a deep breath, and another drink of tea, I cross my arms and look past Ettie, out the window of the hospital, which faces the courtyard and the fountain beyond. “Well, I don’t have time to think about Russell. Because I’m going to have to go back to Elemint and beg for my job back.”
“Oh,no,” Ettie says, “no, no—you’re not doing that.”
