“I thought you were going to talk to me about Jesus and absolve me of the near-kiss.”
“Everyone has such high expectations of me.”
She sighs and takes a long sip of wine. “Gosh, this tastes good. You know, I gave up wine to show solidarity with Abby during the pregnancy. Now, as we take shifts with Asher, it’s mostly coffee for me... and trashy detective novels. Speaking of...”
She starts skimming through her Audible app on her phone. “Have you read A.D. Hemmings? Because I can’t put hisBlood Oathdown.”
“Ummm... I think I’ve seen the paperbacks in airports.”
“Totalairport reads. Misogynistic, Hemingway-like style where women only exist for his macho Welsh detective, Chadwick Hall. But you need to read him. Here, I have a free Audible book to gift, and I’ll send it to you.”
“So we’re not talking about Jesus.”
“No, Lizzie... in fact... ” She finishes off her wine, and I can tell she’s not used to it. I remember that week after birthing Heathcliff when I hadn’t had a drink in nine months, and I’d felt a little tipsy after one glass.
“Listen to this:‘He slowly undressed her, marveling at her wonderfully sculpted legs.’”
“That’s so James Bond-ish.”
“Iknow! So bad it’s good. I mean, I know I bat for the other team, but part of me wants to throw tomatoes at this guy Hemmings and the other part of me wants to have wild, objectifying sex with him. I can’t get enough. Wait... listen here... ‘Her lacy black bra cupped her size-double-D firm breasts perfectly. She smelled so wonderful, like rose-scented soap...’”
“What woman actually wears that? He’s describing a Victoria Secret commercial.”
“Iknow! And what’s worse is that this sex scene is with his newyoungerpartner, Emilia Wren. They’ve been chasing the Cardiff Strangler all day. She fell into aguttertwo hours earlier in the pursuit. I’m sure she wouldn’t have worn this scratchy, sexy bra for a workday like that and that she’d smell like roses. But here...” Chloe types something on her phone. “I just sent you a copy of the book. Take some time to breathe, enjoy a light guilty-pleasure read, and think about taking a trip with that cute son of yours.”
We talk a little longer, my guilt and grief waning in Chloe’s company. When I finally leave, riding my bike back through the quiet neighborhood streets home, I see a missed call and text from Henry. I finally look at it as I walk my bike to my garage.
Henry:Did you get home alright?
I send a thumbs-up, my stomach lurching all over again.
Henry:Let’s talk tomorrow. Please.
I don’t respond.
4
Two Days Later
“Yoo-hoo!” Mirabel coos through my front door screen just as I’m bribing Heathcliff to eat oatmeal and soy milk. Admittedly, it looks likeOliver Twistgruel.
At sixty, my mother-in-law is annoyingly beautiful. Her clingy jade-green dress and coiffed blond hair make her look like Jessica Lange.
“Nana!”Heathcliff yells, leaping up from the kitchen table.
“Mirabel, I’m running late.”
But she’s already inside hugging Heathcliff. Her cloying cigarettes-and-lavender scent hits my nose like a heavy brick. She’s lied for years about smoking. Yet, Philip remembered her leaning out the den window in her bathrobe every morning with her cigarette.
“Now, listen to your mama, Heathie, and eat up your...” she wrinkles her nose at the bowl’s contents “...breakfast.”
She glances at the soy milk carton on the table.
“I see you’re still not feeding him regular milk.”
“As I’ve told you, he’s lactose intolerant.”
“We don’t have any ofthatin our family. My mama always made us drink our milk every morning.”
