“Don’t care. I’m going with you, and you can’t stop me.”
“I won’t stop you,” she said.
It was half past nine already, and she needed to get into bed soon, but she wanted to spend more time with Hugo. It might be the last time they’d ever get to spend together. They didn’t exactly run in the same circles. And when was the last time she’d been to New York? Never.
“If you want to take the shark painting back with you, I’ll have to wrap it and crate it, which takes ages, or I can send it to you in the post or—”
She picked up a pillow, tossed it at him.
He caught the pillow, wincing like it had hurt.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “You didn’t have to give me a fake second prize.”
“I want Christopher to have it,” he said. “And yes, I had to do it. I had to or I would have hated myself. You know, more than I usually do.”
She glanced up at the painting of the flying shark over the fireplace mantel, the one he calledFly-Fishing.At least that was something she had to show for her week here, an actual Hugo Reese painting. Her favorite painter. Christopher’s too.
“That’s a big gift, Hugo. I know your stuff sells for a lot of money.”
“I’m not exactly Banksy, you know, but if you were to take that to a gallery and sell it, you—”
“Don’t. Don’t even think about it,” she said. “I’m not about to sell the painting you gave to Christopher. That painting will pay for his college someday if that’s what he wants to do with it, or he’ll keep it and pass it on to his kids or grandkids, but I’m not going to pawn it. Ever.”
“Lucy—”
She dropped the T-shirt she’d been folding, turned, and faced him.
“Come here,” he said.
“No,” she replied, but she went to him anyway, went to his arms and let him hold her. She cried again, big, hard sobs. The sort of sobs that come out of a heart broken cleanly in two. Hugo just held her, rubbed her back while she cried and said nothing.
Always be quiet when a heart is breaking.
Finally, her sobs settled, and she took a deep breath, followed by another.
“I’m going to be okay,” she said softly.
“I know you will be.”
“I’ll do what every other single mom in the world does—work my ass off and take care of my kid. I’ve decided I’m going to get a second job, even if it means not seeing Christopher as much. But he can talk on the phone now, so we can Facetime or call each other even when I can’t see him in person. When I take him home with me, it’ll be worth it.”
“I suppose you wouldn’t let me lend you—”
“No, I wouldn’t. If only because what happens in six months when I need more? When the car breaks down in two years? When my rent goesup, or I lose my job?” She took another deep steadying breath and dragged herself away from Hugo’s arms. “I need to be able to take care of him myself. But thanks for the shoes.”
“I only wish—” He looked at her.
“Yeah. Me too.”
He stood up, looked at her. It seemed he wanted to say more but wouldn’t or couldn’t let himself.
“Can I ask a favor?” she said.
“Anything in the world.” The way he said it, she thought he might mean it.
“Maybe you could draw a little shark sketch or something for Christopher that I could take to him tomorrow while we wait for the painting? Maybe something with his name on it? I’ll let you keep the red scarf.”
