“Drinking? Isn’t the term praying?” I laugh.
“I’ll be drinking and praying. At the same time, because god knows I need something to take off the edge of my anxiety.” She stands quickly and grabs a bottle of wine from the wine fridge. “Would you stop analyzing my drinking and praying, please? Go help your mom and get your cowboy daddy, alright?”
Knowing she’s overstimulated and drinking because she’s worried about me, I walk toward her and pull my best friend into a hug. “Not sure what I’d do without you, Bets.”
“Me either, babe,” Betsy mumbles against my shirt. “Just promise me you’ll think about yourself, too.”
“I promise.” And I do. For once, I know what I want.
Or should I saywhoI want?
Stet:
Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.
I’m coming back for you soon, Stet.
The only semi-normalthing about my day today was stopping by Roasted for my favorite hot chai. I grab one for Mom, knowing she’ll appreciate the pick-me-up after working another double shift.
It’s been ages since I’ve driven myself anywhere, oddly enough. My beamer baby has been sitting in the covered parking garage of Palm Towers for weeks now, so I figured now was a good time to take her for a spin. I use the drive as a bit of a refuge, thinking through my conversation with Betsy and how making a change like that can really alter my life.
I don’t exactly have anywhere else to live if I sell my share.
I could still find a less expensive place in the city.Maybe somewhere closer to the coastal side of town for a change of scenery. But no matter how many options I conjure in my head, none of them feel right anymore.
Stetson.Everything goes back to Stetson.
The unexpected cowboy who turned my world upside down and made my problems and dreams his own.
Could I really give up this life to move to Texas? The city has been my home since I was a little girl. It’s everything I love. The people. My best friends. Seascape. The zeal for hustle. The food. God, the food is to die for.
But there’s one thing Miami doesn’t have, and that’shim.
I can work from anywhere in the world, and I know that’s something Stetson would never want me to stop doing. I’m not made to be someone’s housewife. I have goals. I want to work and earn my own wages, but come home to a man who provides equally and loves me equally.
I also don’t want kids.
Shit. We haven’t talked about that yet. I need to ask him because, unfortunately for me, that’s a nonnegotiable. Something I’ve been set on my entire life. I just don’t have the desire. Don’t have the motherly nature that some women have so naturally, and that’s okay.
It took me many years to accept that the world won’t always understand that. But I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I’d be doing my children an unkindness by having them just for the sake of following the majority.
Besides, I learned from personal experience how shitty it feels as a kid to have a parent who never wanted you. No one can save a heart from that level of emotional neglect. And I won’t repeat history.
There’s still so much we need to talk about, and here I am, making plans in my head about the amount of closetspace he’ll give me and morning coffees on the porch together.
As I approach my mom’s house, big trucks and machinery line the streets leading to hers at the end of the cul-de-sac. For being a relatively safe and quiet neighborhood, this is a rarity to see.
Someone must be doing some home improvement themselves.
Excavators and cement trucks take up nearly the entire street, while orange cones line the perimeter of service trucks with line workers huddling around them.
The odd thing is that the closer I get, the more workers I see.
Hard hats galore. Dust flying and industrial dumpsters set to the side of the road. What in the ever-loving hell is going on? I pull out my phone to call my mom, but it rings once and sends me to voicemail.
Cool, Mom. Cool.
I do my best to abide by the speed limit and keep an acceptable distance while passing the workers, no matter how much I actually want to floor it to get to the house faster. The moment Mom’s house comes into view, my heart stops.
