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“You sure you don’t want to steal a few winks yourself? I’m on the clock for another three hours.”
I smiled. I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to. Not then.
“Nope, I’m good.”
“You got it. This tea will keep for Bibi when she wakes up, and I think Marie said she’d be popping in later too.”
“Great. Thanks, Toni.”
I followed her to the living room where she bent down to ruffle the soft halo of baby curls on the toddler who was sitting on the floor amid a mess of toys, stacking and knocking down blocks.
“Goodbye, little man,” Toni said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye-bye,” he said, then spied me. His little face burst into a smile that never failed—no matter how tired I was—to warm my heart and remind me what it was all for. “Mama!”
“Hey, baby boy,” I said, the tears already flowing. I picked him up and sat with him on the couch. “Did you have a good day, today?”
He nodded, then cocked his head and touched a chubby little finger to the tear that trailed down my cheek. “Mama sad?”
“No, baby. I’m not sad. I’m happy. I’m so, so happy.”
I held my son—August Barrera-Wentz—hugging him tight as the tears fell in earnest.
“Your daddy is coming home.”
“Shiloh? Come on, honey, you gotta eat.”
I curled tighter on the bed.
“Shiloh, I’m not playing,” Bibi said. “It’s been two weeks.” She sat down, brushed the braids out of my face that were getting rough-looking. “It’s time.”
“For what?” I croaked.
“To try again.”
Just the words made me tired. It’d been two weeks since Ronan had been shipped off to San Quentin, taking my will to ‘try again’ with him.
I rolled over and sat up. “I have tried, Bibi. After Mama’s secret, I’ll never look at myself in the mirror the same way, and my shop was trashed. But I kept going. I went back to work and ‘tried again.’ Then I lost Ronan.” I shook my head. “It’s too much.”
“Now, now, giving up isn’t allowed, remember?” Bibi’s tone was firm but her hand on my shoulder was gentle. “You’ve been knocked all the way down, but it’s time to get back up and return to life.”
The idea of life without Ronan made me sick.
Literally.
I pushed off the bed and ran to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before the half a sandwich Bibi had coaxed me to eat that afternoon came back up. Kneeling at the toilet, I stared up at Bibi at the door. She stared back.
“No…” I breathed. “No, no, no…”
“Could it be?” I didn’t miss the glint of happiness in her hazy eyes.
“No. Impossible. I’m always so careful. We used condoms and I’m on the pill…”
Except that Ronan and I had stopped using condoms months ago, and I got drunk the night the shop was wrecked. I puked up everything in my system until there was nothing left. The next day I was a mess. Not thinking. I couldn’t remember taking my pill that day…
“But I slept with Ronan,” I murmured. “That I remember.” I clapped a hand to my mouth. “Oh my God…”
I pulled myself together enough to drive to the drugstore. When I came back, I locked myself in the bathroom with the little stick and waited. But I already knew. My sense of smell was insanely strong, and my stomach felt queasy whenever I stopped crying long enough to notice.
