“Oh,” said Charlotte.
Paros raised his head. “No?” he asked.
“Yes,”said Charlotte. And then he pressed his mouth into her most private place. Charlotte was horrified and also deeply thrilled. She felt a stirring that she’d known once or twice, but then the stirring gathered force.
“Oh, my goodness,” sighed Charlotte. Her brain switched off.
She felt a swell, a wave, her heart exploding in her chest. She climaxed, and suddenly understood that all of the painter’s poking had been nothing. Winston’s fumblings had had little to do with Charlotte. Those men were only footnotes. But this, from her very own center,thisthat she had asked for, that she deserved—yes! This!—was just the beginning of Charlotte’s love story.
IN THE MEDICAL CENTER,lit by fluorescent lights, Cord sat on one side of his older sister, who was not dead. Cord and Regan had kept watch over Lee’s slumbering body all night. “Mom’s still not answering,” said Regan. “Should I go get her?”
“I guess so,” said Cord.
“Okay,” said Regan, standing and stretching. She glanced at Cord’s phone on the counter. “You have a million messages, by the way,” she said.
“Any from Giovanni?” said Cord.
Regan looked through them. “No,” she said.
“Then who cares?” said Cord.
“I’m sorry,” said Regan. Cord shrugged. “Maybe it’s not too late,” said Regan.
“Maybe,” said Cord.
“Maybe the kids and I will move in with you in New York,” said Regan. Cord looked up. “It’s a joke,” said Regan. “But I don’t know. It might be nice to leave Savannah. What do you think?”
“I can see it, Ray Ray,” said Cord, allowing a tiny smile. He looked at Lee’s face—her false eyelashes, faded lips. “She’s so much more than this,” he said. “God, what happened to her out there in Hollywood? Who is this person? Remember when she used to write poetry in that spiral notebook?”
“She was my hero when we were little,” said Regan.
“Yeah. She took good care of us.”
“Until she left,” said Regan.
Cord exhaled. “She was allowed,” he said.
“You got away, too,” said Regan. She blinked back tears. “But we couldn’tallleave Mom, could we?”
Cord sighed. “Oh, Regan,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to,” said Regan. “That was a long time ago.”
“You’re right,” said Cord, closing his eyes and thinking of Giovanni. “Give me a sec?”
“Of course.”
Cord stepped into the hallway and scrolled through a dozen text messages. The New York Stock Exchange had opened, and today was 3rd Eyez’s IPO. The most recent text was from Wyatt:3rd Eyez up $10 to $35 already motherfucker!!! YOU ARE RICH.
He was supposed to feel elated, but Cord felt only tired. He dialed Giovanni. Where was he at this minute? Cord could see him on their fire escape—or was it now only Cord’s fire escape?—the way Gio played with his dark hair as he read library books. Cord ached with loss. He knew Giovanni wouldn’t answer, but then he did.
“Yes?”
Cord’s stomach seized. “Giovanni. Giovanni. I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” said Giovanni. “I know you’re sorry, Cord. I do. But it’s done. Please stop calling me.”
“But I’m sorry,” said Cord. “I’m so sorry.”
