“Four: your laugh when something genuinely surprises you,” Hannah said, switching her focus between her journal and Janie. “I’m not talking about the polite laugh you use for clients or strangers, but your full, unguarded laugh that sounds like purejoy. I haven’t heard it enough lately, and I miss it.”
“I miss it too,” Janie whispered.
“Five: the way you talk to the girls like they’re mini adults, always explaining like they’re capable of understanding. Six: how you sing so beautifully when you’re cooking, or in the shower, or just moving around the house even though you swear you sound like a strangled cat.” As Hannah continued through the list, her handwriting became less legible not because of her scrawling but because of Janie’s tears falling on the paper as she read along. “Seven: the little crease that appears between your eyebrows when you’re worried about something. Eight: how you text me random thoughts and pictures through the day just to share them and make me smile. Nine: how you always remember tiny details about people’s lives and ask about them later. That makes people feel so special.” She stopped and looked into Janie’s eyes. “You’reso special. And finally, though I could fill this whole book tonight, a new favorite is the way you look at me, like you’re doing right now, like you can’t quite believe I still love you, when the truth is I’ve never stopped and never will.” Hannah passed Janie a tissue and swiped at her own tears with another one. “Your turn?” she asked gently.
“Okay.” Janie wiped her face and re-opened her own notebook. “One: your creative passion when you talk about your work. Your whole face lights up when you’re describing a paint technique or showing me a color you mixed. You become this other version of yourself, completely absorbed and present.”
“Does that count as just one?” Hannah gulped.
“Yes, it does. Now shush and just listen, or I won’t get through this.” Janie tapped Hannah’s leg. “Two: the gentle way you handle the girls even when you’re exhausted. I’ve watched you be patient through tantrums and messes when I know you’re running on empty, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
As Janie read through her list, she could recall a hundred examples of each little thing, and the recollections filled herheart and nourished her soul. “And ten,” she said, “is the way you fought for us. Even when I’d given up on myself, even when it would have been easier to let me go, you fought. You kept showing up. You didn’t let me disappear into my shame. And I’ll spend the rest of my life being grateful for that. For being given a second chance, and for keeping our family together.”
They sat in silence for a moment, both crying, and Hannah wrapped her arms around Janie and held her tight. The weight of being truly seen by Hannah overwhelmed her, making it impossible for her to speak.
“We’re going to make it,” Hannah finally said, “aren’t we? We’re actually going to make it through this.”
“Yeah,” Janie said, and for the first time, she really believed it. “I think we are. I was thinking about our first date. What if we spend Saturday afternoon walking around Pilsen? Maria’s told me so much about the neighborhood, and I’d love to explore it together. See the murals, check out the shops, maybe grab some street tacos. And we could end up at Maria’s café.” She glanced away briefly. “I told her I wanted to bring you to meet her. She’s been such a huge part of my healing, Han. I want you to know her, to understand what she’s done for me.”
“I’d love that.” Hannah tucked a strand of hair behind Janie’s ear. “What time should I pick you up?”
Janie shook her head. “I’ll pickyouup,” she said and wiggled her eyebrows. “Just like I did in Vegas. Two o’clock? That’ll give us a few hours before the café gets too busy.”
“It’s a date.”
Janie smiled. How crazy to be planning a first date after several years of marriage. But still, something fluttered in her chest, though it wasn’t something she thought she could say out loud just yet. Maybe anticipation or even hope… Whatever concoction it was, something dangerously close to joy was swimming around in there.
She remembered the medication she’d shoved in her purse and pulled it out. “I thought I’d take this now.”
“Is that why you didn’t want wine with dinner?” Hannah asked. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Dad. That’s not my story to tell.”
Janie nodded, popped the medication into her mouth, and washed it down with a swallow of water.This is the beginning.Not the end of who I am, but the beginning of finding myself again.With Hannah watching her intently, it was every bit as symbolic as she’d anticipated. “Thank you,” she said. “For today. For the list. For seeing me.”
“Thank you for trusting me with your truth,” Hannah said. “And for taking that first pill.” She leaned in and kissed Janie, soft and sweet, and full of promise. “Can you stay tonight?”
Janie could. Of course she could. And God, she wanted to, even if she stayed in a separate room again. Nothing was waiting at the apartment… Except work. The therapy sessions had meant she’d missed hours at the office, and she had to play catch up tonight. “I have to work to make up some time. I’m sorry.” She glanced at her phone and saw it was nearly ten. “I have to go.”
“There’s no need to apologize.” Hannah caressed Janie’s cheek. “But please don’t exhaust yourself, okay?”
“I won’t.”
Hannah walked Janie out to her car and held the door open for her. Janie got in, and Hannah seemed hesitant to let her go.
“You’ll be back Saturday?” Hannah asked, leaning in the open window.
“I promise.” Janie reluctantly drove away, more hopeful than she’d been in months. Tomorrow, she’d take the second dose of medication. The day after that, the third. Day by day and week by week, she was going to get better. She was going to enjoy her gorgeous wife and their beautiful children.
Now all she had to do was hold onto that thin strand of optimism when the black dog of her depression tried to tug it from her like a chew toy.
CHAPTER 19
Solo checkedher reflection in the hallway mirror for the third time in ten minutes, adjusting the collar of her button-down shirt, then smoothing it down again. She’d changed twice already. Her first outfit had been too casual, and the second too formal. She’d finally settled on dark jeans and a slim-fit burgundy shirt that Janie had always said brought out the warmth in her eyes.
“You look great, slugger,” her dad said from the living room, where he was building an elaborate block tower with Chloe. “Stop fussing.”
“I’m not fussing.” Solo moved away from the mirror, then immediately turned back to check her hair.
“You’re definitely fussing,” her dad said, sounding amused. “It’s just Janie. Your wife, remember? The woman you’ve been married to for two years.”
