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“I don’t like what I know. But I have a feeling I’m missing some details. I think she’s realizing she’s missing some details as well, but she’s afraid to ask. You know? She’s been burned so many times and she’s finally setting some boundaries, which Jesus, she needs. But she’s not going to let you back in for nothing. I think she needs you. You made her better. I have a feeling you made each other better—”
“She made me want to be better,” I say.
“But… I don’t think you should come.”
My heart bottoms out. She doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t change her mind, doesn’t tell me to come, to save my girl.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as my eyes get hot and my throat gets thick. I feel helpless.
“What can I do?”
“You’re going to have to ask her that.”
“I know. Of course. I’m ready to talk whenever she is. But I mean, what can I do right now? There’s a funeral, right?”
“Yeah, in theory,” she says with a bitter scoff.
“It’s got to be hard for her to be there. For that. So what can I do? Can I send something? Pay for something?”
She’s quiet again, but this time I can tell she’s thinking. I don’t dare say a word in case it makes her change her mind. I just hope I haven’t messed up and said the wrong thing.
The last time I saw her, when she ended it, she’d laid it all out there.This isn’t just a pregnancy. It’s a baby. And while you’ve been doing whatever it is you’ve been doing, I’ve been preparing for life as a mother.
I’ve done nothing. I’ve paid some doctor’s bills and bought her some clothes. But that’s it. And at the same time, I’ve been trying to tell her that she doesn’t owe her mother anything becauselove isn’t transactional.And all I’ve done to show her how I feel about her is buy shit. Am I still doing that?
But this is different. It has to be. Because I’m doing this because I want to make her life easier. I would haul a drug dealer’s junk away for this woman even if it meant she’d never see me again, just if it meant she didn’t have to deal with it.
Bee clears her throat. “Nobody’s ordered food,” she finally confesses.
“I can order food.”
“Nothing fancy. She’ll get suspicious.”
“Tell me what you want and I’ll get it.”
“I won’t tell her who paid for it.”
“Will it make the day less stressful?”
She’s quiet for a moment, and then says, “Yes.”
“Then that’s all that matters. Tell me where to call and what to order. I’ll take care of it.”
She’s quiet again. For a long moment. I hear her let out a breath. “You’re making it hard to hate you.”
“I’m okay with that,” I say, with a little smile. So I order a few cold-cut trays. Ham and turkey and roast beef. And I make sure I schedule delivery.
And I don’t stop there. I get on my computer and I call a lawyer who’s worked with a sports apparel company on the west side. We have a good talk, and we come up with a plan. Tomorrow, I’ll call Michael and schedule an appointment. It’s time I set things straight and take responsibility for the mess I’ve made.
Megan—and our baby—deserve nothing less.
CHAPTER42
MEGAN
My back is killing me.I’m thirty-six weeks pregnant and sleeping on a love seat that has seen better days. Even with the double sheet situation, I swear I can feel the scratchy, dirty fabric leaving a rash on my arms and legs as a hard lump shoves against my hip.
I didn’t intend to stay with my mom. Honestly, I never intended to spend another night here when I left home at seventeen. But when I arrived and told my mom I was going to stay with Bee, my mom lost it. Started screaming about how ungrateful I was and how she would be there for me when my husband, if I ever managed to trap a man into marrying me, was murdered. It became easier to just agree to stay with her than to deal with the cops coming to handle the inevitable noise complaint.
