“I’ll arrange things with Bruce,” Blanche said, turning toward the offices.
As the elevator descended, I managed to regain control over my breathing. I had just received the proof I wasn’t looking for and hoping I’d never get again—that I had been right all these years to not give feelings a room in my life.This, this was what I was capable of. This and worse.
The dam had to be sealed entirely, blocked, barricaded, barbed.
I had been a moth to the flame of January’s eyes, and smile, and heart. But that flame had started a fire that I had no control over, one that could consume her, too.
She’s leaving.
I had to put the fire out while in parallel ensure that January wouldn’t do something stupid because of my assholery.
Numbers, facts, calculations, investments. That was the only way to do it. A simple calculation I had made a few days ago had me aware of how much money she needed in order to return to her life debt-free. I knew she would never take that money from me. Now she wouldn’t even stay in an unused house because it was mine. I couldn’t blame her, but I had to change her mind.
“I have a job to offer you,” I texted to her number, ignoring the way my heart fluttered again like a fool at the sight of the simple text she had sent me the day I had left her my number. It had only been a few days ago, but it seemed longer. A dam-breaking ago.
Chapter 19
January
June’s lie to Will about me moving apartments had bought me time. I had asked him and Lennox to coordinate their arrival with me and not surprise me. That bought me more time to decide on what to do.
Living at June’s, with June, was making the matter pressing. We were too old and too used to our own ways and routines to feel like this was one fun, long slumber party.
I was also afraid that my mother would find out. So far, I had managed to keep her out of the loop, but it was a matter of time before she’d hear about it in this small town.
I had to act, and I was planning to. But it meant breaking my radio silence with Oliver, contacting him, explaining that I had left—I was pretty sure he hadn’t been back to find my note on his fridge—and asking him to let me stay for the duration of my sons’ visit.
He would say yes, I was sure of it. That wasn’t the problem. He might even be flustered that I had left. I believed him—he wanted to help me. “I have a job to offer you,” he had texted.
I was aSave the Childrencause, a doomed business.
What was I thinking or expecting when I’d kissed him? I had acted on an impulse born out of missing him, feeling that he was a part of me that I had miraculously happened to find again after years.
If you opened a map of the world and looked at the continents, you’d see how, once upon a time, they were one. Oceans and miles came between them, but the fault lines were still visible, and like a giant jigsaw puzzle, you could piece them together. Oliver and I were as different and distant as continents, but Ifeltthe seam line that indicated that we could complete each other, as if we had once been torn along it.
But reconnecting continents meant colossal destruction.
And I couldn’t take any more wreckage.
At the cadence my life had been spiraling, and given her age, it shouldn’t have surprised me that instead of getting better, Vi was deteriorating daily in front of my eyes. She still found enough zest to tell me that I looked “like something the cat dragged in,” so I took that as a good sign.
I showed her new pictures of the twins, including the one of the silver engagement ring, to which she replied, “What’s burning in his pants?” And I even told her about Oliver. I had to talk to someone, and I knew she’d understand. As a bonus, she’d enjoy the drama. When I got to telling her that I had kissed him, she said, “We know what’s burning inyourpants.” I laughed, but Vi knew better than that. Even being weak, she asked pointedly, “What’s burning more—your pants or your heart?”
To make her happy, when I had a noon shift, which didn’t require me waking up in ungodly hours, I arrived at work wearing a black skirt, matching pumps, and a forest green buttoned blouse that reminded me of Oliver’s gaze, the one Blanche had spoken about. I might ride public transportation, walk, or drive Pretty and not a Town Car with a chauffeur, but I could at least look good doing that. And make Vi happy.
But when I reached work, Sylvie met me at the community room, where I greeted a few of the tenants who had just finished their lunch and complimented my outfit.
“Where’s Vi?” I asked.
She put a hand on my forearm, and my heart dropped. “She was taken to the hospital an hour ago. We thought it’d be best if she got proper hospital care.”
“And you didn’t call me? I was off shift; I could have—”
“I knew you were coming for your shift and thought it’d be better not to disturb you at home.”
It was no home, but yeah … “You know that she—”
“I know, you have a special connection with her, but January, we’ve both been here long enough and know that these things happen. It’s not her first time.”
