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Without another word, I carry the phone into my bedroom and hand it to Jack. His Popsicle is gone, but he’s still sucking on the stick. His lips and chin are stained purple, as is a small spot on my sheets.
When he looks up at me, his face contorts into an expression of confusion.
“Someone wants to talk to you,” I say.
Slowly he reaches out his little hand and takes the phone. One second he’s holding it up to his ear, looking lost, and the next, his face lights up.
“Clay!”
It’s too much to watch. My chest starts to sting with emotion as I watch them talk to each other on the phone, so I turn around and walk back out to my waiting coffee. Wrapping my hands around the warm mug, I let the heat calm my racing mind.
Jack is getting too close to him. That’s my fault, isn’t it? And the longer I let it happen, the worse it’s going to be in the end. But I can’t seem to stop. Why?
What’s one more thing to throw on my pile of worries?
I’m slumped over on the counter, hovering over my cup of coffee, when Jack’s little feet run across the living room toward where I’m standing.
He quickly hands me my phone with a smile. When I take it, I notice the call has ended, so I set it down on the counter. Then I reach out and feel Jack’s forehead, which is thankfully cool and a bit clammy.
“What did Clay want?” I ask, expecting Jack to tell me how he will take his next dose of medicine without giving me a hard time because Clay somehow convinced him to.
Instead, he grins up at me as he replies, “He’s coming over.”
My face falls as I watch my son bounce back to my bedroom.
I’m standing in my mismatched pajamas without an ounce of makeup on my face. “Wait…what?”
Rule #25: When your Madame tells you to stay, you stay.
Clay
You don’t know my address.
I smile down at her text message. It’s true that I don’t know her address, but I also know that she’s going to give it to me.
I’m not trying to manipulate my way into Eden’s life, but it’s becoming more and more obvious to me just how weak the wall she’s kept up is getting. It’s like I planted a seed six months ago that is finally growing. Deep down…she finally wants what I asked for back then.
But now…it’s too late.
Yes, but you’re going to give it to me.
No, I’m not.
I’m stopping by the grocery store now.
What type of Popsicles should I get?
Clay.
I’ll just get an assortment.
What about medicine?
Stop.
Let me help.
No strings.
