Page 58 of When Love Takes Root

“Come on. Your mama’s liable to ask what everybody ordered before she gets to the reason she called.”

Calista shook her head. “Exactly. I need a witness.”

The two of them headed toward the front of the restaurant, leaving Leilani and me alone in the booth.

She waited until they were out of earshot before looking at me.

“You thought he was cute.”

I rolled my eyes, but even I knew it lacked strength. “Leilani.”

“I’m not trying to be messy.” She reached for her water and settled back like she had no intention of letting me escape. “I’m trying to be your friend. You’ve been living like you got a life sentence.”

I tore a napkin into tiny pieces because that was easier than picking at my own heart. “He’s just an electrician.”

“He’s a man. A fine man. And you’re a woman who’s still alive. That matters.”

Her words pressed down on my chest, right where grief kept its weight.

“I can’t do that,” I whispered.

Leilani’s face changed. The jokes left her eyes, but the love stayed. “Can’t do what?”

“Date. Try again. Let somebody in.”

“Why not, Celeste?”

My throat tightened as if my body had decided to protect me from my own truth.

A laugh slipped out, sharp and small. “Because love took my husband.”

Leilani didn’t flinch. She didn’t rush to fix it. She nodded as if the sentence deserved room to stand.

I swallowed and kept going because stopping would’ve left the rest of it stuck in my chest. “Because if I get attached, I’ll lose again. Because I got five kids who need me steady. They need me upright. They need me not falling apart over feelings I don’t even trust.”

I looked down at my hands. My fingers trembled, and I hated it. I was supposed to be the keep-going woman, the show-up woman, the one who cried in the shower and came out with fresh lip gloss like nothing had happened.

But Leilani looked at me like she saw the shower tears too.

“And because I don’t believe a good man would want a woman like me,” I admitted.

Leilani’s eyebrows lifted. “Like you?”

I nodded, shame and grief twisted so tight I could barely tell one from the other. “A widow with baggage. A widow with babies. A widow with a heart that still talks to somebody who isn’t here.”

The words came out raw, pulled from a place I usually kept locked.

“I still say his name in my head,” I whispered. “I still turn to tell him stuff. Little stuff. Big stuff. Some days, I still reach for my phone before I remember there’s nobody to call. For half a second, my mind puts him at work, running late, somewhere close enough to come home. Then the truth comes back, and I’m standing there with five babies and a funeral program.”

My eyes burned. I stared at the table because if I looked up, I was going to break in public.

Leilani’s voice came out soft, but there was steel beneath it. “Look at me.”

I didn’t.

Leilani said, “Celeste, look at me.” My name came soft enough not to bruise me but firm enough to reach me. I lifted my eyes. Leilani reached across the table and took my hand. “Baby, Big J loved you. You know he did. That man loved you loud. Loved you on purpose. He loved you like Christ loved the church, and everybody saw it.”

My breath shuddered. My voice shrank. “Happy feels like betrayal.”