After four or five drinks, I stumbled to my office and shut the door.
I looked at my phone for a long time before I finally dialed Juju’s number.
I had a new cell phone, new number, and all that, but I hoped Juju’s number was still the same.
The phone rang twice, and when she picked up, my heart thundered so loud, I thought surely she’d hear it.
“Hello?” she said.
I swallowed, and in that pause, she said hello again. She sounded the same, yet different. I wondered if she looked different. I hadn’t seen her in over a year, and the last time I’d seen her, we’d avoided each other.
“Hello?” she said one more time and then hung up.
I sat there for a long time, kicking myself for not saying hello back.
I did that for three nights in a row. Drank, called Juju, didn’t say a word.
On the third night, she said, “Who is this?” And her voice broke. I wondered if she knew it was me. If I mattered enough to make her voice break like that or if I’d only imagined the sound.
On the fourth night, I didn’t pick up a drink or the phone, but it didn’t stop me from wishing I could hear her voice.
Whether she was mad at me or hated me or never wanted to see me again, I just wanted her back in my life. Or at least, that’s what I thought.
When my dad got sick a year later, I was forced to deal with what that might look like, and I quickly realized it wasn’t all I’d hoped it would be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
THE ART OF FLORALS
JULIANA
Present
I walk into the Whitman house, which is bustling with energy. Camden’s grandmas insisted that neither Camden nor I lift a finger for Easter. Those were their words. Actually, more specifically, Grandma Nancy lifted her hand and said, very properly, “Neither you nor Camden shall lift a finger this Sunday. Donna and I have got it, and we don’t want to hear another word about it.”
It feels weird to only come in with flowers and not laden down with all the food I’d normally prepare…but kind of nice too. Camden spent the night with me last night, and we slept in this morning. I woke up to him between my legs. That was beyond nice.
He tickles my side and nuzzles my ear. “What are you thinking about? Your cheeks are all red.”
I shoot him a look. “I’ll give you one guess, Mr. Wonder Tongue,” I whisper.
“Mr. Wonder Tongue? That is an excellent nickname.”
“You deserve it,” I say, lifting a shoulder.
“There you are!” Grandma Donna says. She has a stack of something knitted in her hands. “Come on back. Everyone’s here.”
She lifts up two sweaters. One has a bunny standing with a blue tie around its neck, and the other is a bunny with long blonde hair standing in a yellow dress. She hands Camden the one in a yellow dress and gives me the one with the blue tie. Camden and I look at each other for a beat and then have to look away because I don’t want to get the giggles.
“I made these for you to wear for our Easter photo,” she says.
“Wow, Grandma Donna,” Camden says. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
He pulls the sweater over his button-down shirt, grinning at me when his face pops out, hair going everywhere, and I have never loved him more.
“Amazing,” I tell her. “Thank you.” I put the sweater on over my dress, and Camden pushes my hair out of my eyes, kissing me softly when he’s done.
“Thank you,” he whispers so only I can hear.
