“You’re not helping.”
Kissing her forehead, I smile. “I’m sorry. I only want you to be happy, honey.”
“I am happy.”
“Good.”
Placing my palm on her pretty face, I whisper. “Do what you want to do. Either way is right.”
“What if I told Jason to counter once? Whatever happens after that is how it’ll be.”
“What’s his counteroffer?”
She snickers. “A million.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Lawyers.”
“Mm-hmm. That’s what I thought too.”
ChapterThirty-Eight
WILLA
One monthlater
Barney and I are home––inour apartment again––and I’ve got mixed emotions about it. While I’m happy to be in my place, I miss Hudson like crazy. After I started my job with the foundation, I,we, decided that we needed to retrace our steps a little. I felt it was important for us to start over in a sense. We fast-tracked our relationship into living together before I was ready to go there. I’m pretty sure Hudson felt the same.
And it’s not like we don’t see each other every day. We do. Hudson comes over each night after work. He’s been sleeping here too, which is interesting in my full-size bed. I ended up buying a queen-size to accommodate both of us. And Barney, who seems to enjoy sleeping smack dab in the middle, between us, has made spooning almost impossible, sadly.
It’s Sunday which means it’s cleaning day, so while Hudson is out picking up lunch for us, I’m changing our sheets and cleaning the bathroom, which Hudson hates more than life itself because it’s tiny and he’s not, and doing up our dishes. I’ve got some jazz playing softly in the background, and I’m glad to say, I’m not sad as I listen to one of my dad’s favorite musicians. That’s not always the case though. Some days, the second I hear one of his favorites, I bawl. Other times, I merely smile. I guess that’s how grief works, and you’ve got to take it as it comes.
“Move, Barney.” He always jumps on the bed when I’m trying to change the sheets. I glare at him, but he couldn’t care less. Instead of moving, he finds his way beneath the fitted sheet and curls up into a ball. “Damn it, Barney.” Just as I’m about to crawl under there myself to grab him, my bell buzzes.
“Did he forget his key?” I guess I’m talking to Barney. Jogging over to my door, I press the button that allows me to see who’s downstairs. I nearly choke. “Mom?”
What on earth is she doing here? I haven’t seen or spoken to her since that day. Dad’s anniversary.
“Willa?” God. Her voice. So familiar, yet so foreign.
“What are you doing here?”
She keeps looking out at the street, then back at the door like she can’t decide if she should stay or run like hell. I’m guessing the ‘run like hell’ is going to win. Why wouldn’t it?
She’s silent for several beats until she finally speaks. “I, uh, came to say hello.”
She came to say hello?
“Okay.” I swallow, and my throat is so dry, it hurts. “Hello.”
She did it. She can go now.
“May I come up?”
“Why?” I’m not sure why I haven’t raced down the steps yet and wrapped her up in my arms. I’ve missed her. No matter how angry I’ve been at her, she’s my mom. She’ll always be my mom.
Oh, wait. Now I remember.
I’m dead to her.
