“I can imagine.” I squeeze her hand again. It’s heartbreaking that friendships can be so fragile, and I hate it that she was made to feel even more alone because of the callous people around her. “Anyway, there’s no deductible requirement to the trust, so let it take over the two thousand you’ve been paying. It’s specifically set up to pay forallher medical care. You don’t have to shoulder so much on your own anymore. You have a husband now.”
Her mouth parts, and she hesitates for a bit, like she’s surprised at the offer and unsure what to do about the unexpected gesture of goodwill. It makes my heart ache to realize she isn’t used to receiving compassion from others. She’s been walking a precipice all this time, carefully balancing everything despite all the crap that Nelson and other assholes threw at her. She couldn’t be more courageous. I reach over andsqueeze her hand, wanting her to know she doesn’t have to take everything onto her delicate shoulders—it’ll be my honor and privilege to carry them for her.
Finally, she gives me a tremulous smile, her eyes shimmering. “Thank you. That’ll be a huge help.”
“So what are you going to do with your extra money? No need to tighten your belt so much, is there?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. She’s too strong to want to show tears.
“Save up, then buy a house with a big yard so that Mom can have the flowers she loves so much when she’s better and leaves the hospital.” The words flow from her easily and automatically, like a child sharing a long-held dream.
What’s wrong with this house?I don’t expect Grace to put her mother in a nursing home after the latter’s recovery, and there’s no reason for her to buy a new place. The home we’re in has four wings. Her mother can have one, and we could hire a few private nurses to help take care of her.
Grace continues before I can mention any of that. “Maybe someplace in Montana.”
Shock sucker-punches me. “Montana?” It’s so damn far from California, and she knows my business and family are here. Is there something for her in Montana? Am I even in this future she’s spinning?
She blinks. Her eyes clear, as though she just came out of a trance. “Mom always wanted to go,” she explains, shifting in her seat and pushing her pasta around with a fork. “I’ve never been, but she said it’s really pretty. Lots of land and nature. You know, big sky and all that. I want her to be where she wants to be, surrounded by what she loves the most. Life is short.”
No good argument comes forward. How do I protest such a simple desire for her to give her mother the life she wants? Even if she recovers, her health won’t be the best. Will Grace want to spend most of her time with her mother in Montana? Whatabout me? Our baby? Are we going to end up like my dad and the mothers? Co-parents, but never a true couple—a family—who live together, have shared memories?
The questions stick in my throat. What if she says she wants to live in Montana with her mom, and doesn’t want to think about the rest? I didn’t expect this to be her vision for the future. We never really talked about how our marriage would be except for the fact that we’d be civil to each other. But then I didn’t think I’d end up caring so much about her.
“We haven’t had a great time in L.A.,” Grace adds almost defensively, glancing at me. “Meeting Nelson was her biggest mistake.” The light in her eyes dims as she looks down.
I reach out and tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, stroke her cool cheek, then tilt her chin up. My wife should never lower her head like there’s something wrong with her existence. She is a gift I didn’t know I would receive, and I almost ruined it by being a stubborn jerk before. “She would never think that. I’m sure she’s disappointed that Nelson isn’t a better man, but she can’t regret meeting him. Without that meeting, she wouldn’t have had you.”
“How can you be so sure?” Her voice is shaky with a hint of uncertainty and guilt, like she has somehow convinced herself over the years that if it weren’t for her, her mom could’ve had a better life.
“Because of the mothers my brothers and I have. Do they wish Ted was a better father? Oh, yes. Do they regret having us? Absolutely not. If they did, they would’ve aborted us. Ted gave them that option.”
Joey said as much once when we were fighting. He shouted, “Your mothers should’ve aborted you when Ted gave them the chance! He offered to pay!”
I add, “Besides, how can she regret having you? You’re the loveliest and most devoted daughter. I can’t think of many women who would do as much as you did for their moms.”
“She’s my only family,” Grace says.
“Not anymore,” I remind her.I deserve to be in the future you’re dreaming. “You’re my wife. You have more family than you can imagine.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Huxley
Grace gets on her hands and knees in front of the coffee table. In the armchair behind her, I sit and appreciate the view of her luscious, peach-shaped ass in the air, the erotic curvature of spine and pelvis. My surging libido says she’s hot and interested, but my brain says she’s totally not thinking about sex right now as she inspects the table from various angles.
So make her interested,my hormones argue.That coffee table’s at just the right height. The brothers and their wives won’t be arriving for a while. And if they get here early, make them wait outside.
Yeah, no. I don’t think that’s going to earn me any brownie points. Grace has been anxious ever since I said they were coming over for dinner.
“What are you doing?” I say.
She doesn’t bother to look at me. “Checking to see if there’s any dust.”
“Why?”
“Because your family’s going to be here any second?”
“Ourfamily,” I correct her. “You’re a Lasker, too.”
“Yes, our family,” she says vaguely to humor me. “This passes,” she mutters. “Okay, now the lamps—”
