Mrs.O’Brien patted my arm."You're very lucky to have her.She cares so much about our community and what we’re doing here.It’s so refreshing to see a young couple so passionate about preserving neighborhoods, and passionate abouteach other."
I nodded, unable to speak.That last stubborn, petrified piece of pain that I’d been clinging to was dissolving.Because why the fuck was I doing this anymore?None of this mattered if we didn’t have a community at our side.People we loved.People who looked out for us.
That’s what I’d been doing all along in my work.But rejecting love along the way.
“You’re right—I got lucky,” I croaked.
“I’ll say,” she said with a smile.“Finding a woman who cares as much about community as you,andwho you can build a family with?You hit the jackpot.”
I rubbed my cheek, something big and painful swelling inside my chest.I had hit the only jackpot that mattered in life.And now, after Archer’s wake-up call this morning and Mrs.O’Brien’s sweet words, I was drowning in urgency.
Another lady stepped up, offering me a warm smile.“I’ll be forever grateful to you and Archer and Clara for being here with us throughout this.You three truly understand the meaning of the word home.”
“Exactly,” Mrs.O’Brien said, squeezing my hand."That's what home means, Mr.Nightingale.It's not just a building.It's where your people are.Where your memories live.Where you belong."
By this point, I thought I might cry openly in front of them.It hadn’t been the plan, but these motherly women speaking sweet things to me about the meaning of life.Well, a man could only be so strong.
I cleared my throat, taking a fortifying breath.I wanted Clara here.To nuzzle against me, to give me shit about almost crying because I missed her, to make a quip that would wipe away the worries of the world.
“The lawsuit we launched will buy us time,” I managed to croak out.“If all goes well, we might be able to push him back to his original timeline.That’s our goal at least.More time.No panicked decisions.We’re doing everything we can.”
I listened to the women for a bit longer, hearing their updates from the last couple of weeks.I thanked them for their time and gave them all hugs.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice rough."I need to make a call.I’ll be in touch soon with more news."
I stepped outside, drawing a deep breath of the warm July air.I looked around at the quiet neighborhood, listening to the tweeting of a bird in a nearby tree, the beeping of a work truck in reverse, laughter drifting from an open window.
I had to see Clara.I needed to talk to her and say….what?Telling her the truth—that I was sorry, and I was a grade-A idiot—seemed woefully inadequate.But even if I didn’t have the words, I needed to try.To rip this band-aid off and start a new chapter of Nash.
I dialed her number, my heart pounding.It rang.And rang.And rang.
Then straight to voicemail.Once the pre-recorded greeting ended, urging me to leave a message, I froze.I didn’t speak for what felt like a minute.
"Clara, it's me.It's Nash.I—" My voice broke."I need to talk to you.I know I fucked up.I just need you to know—"
The message cut off.I swore under my breath as I swiped to call her again.
This time, it only rang once.Then to voicemail.She wasn't picking up, and I couldn’t blame her.When the chance to leave a voicemail came again, I blurted, “I’m a fucking idiot and we both know it.I could have three lifetimes to tell you how sorry I am and it would only scratch the surface.Please call me back.”
I swiped the phone off, my throat tight.At least I hadn’t openly cried during the voicemail.I rubbed my forehead, contemplating my next move.I was simultaneously deliriously tired and desperate, a perfect cocktail for wild ideas and new chapters.
Mrs.O’Brien’s words rang in my ears as I dialed Marina’s number, an idea taking nebulous shape inside me.Finding a woman who cares as much about community as you and who you can build a family with?You hit the jackpot.She wasn’t wrong.Community, family, love.That’s what fucking mattered.
“Everything good, Nash?”Marina’s sharp voice brought the rest of my brain on board.
“Things are about to be fucking great,” I told her.“I need you to start work on a new project.Top priority.I needed this done a week ago, actually.”
She sighed tersely.“Let me pull up my notes.”
“We’re starting a community land trust for the Queens properties.All the ones we’ve bought so far and all future ones.We’ll need to start a non-profit to receive the properties, but they all need to go in there.”
“Okay.Writing this down.”
“The land trust will allow the community to take ownership of these properties long term.To protect them from Cross and better mobilize for the legal fight ahead,” I went on.
“Ooh, that’s smart,” Marina murmured, sounding a little distracted from her note taking.“And what’s the non-profit going to be named?”
I paused, the name revealing itself to me in a flash.“The Clara & Mia Whitehall Community Land Trust.”
