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“Don’t worry. I’ve seen enough movies to know that’s supposed to happen,” Aria joked. “It’s just hard to imagine it will happen to me.”
Aria’s eyes drifted around the room, then paused at the bookshelf near the couch. Recently, Carmella had pulled out her mother’s journal again, burning with curiosity, but she’d only read the first two or three passages before returning them to the shelf.
“That little brown book looks like it’s filled with ancient secrets.” Aria pointed to it.
Carmella laughed. “Something like that. It’s my mother’s journal from when she was pregnant with me and right after I was born.”
“Wow. How is it?”
“I can’t really bring myself to read it,” Carmella said softly. “My mother was a difficult person in my life for many years. When I was a child, my family was out horseback riding, and I made a huge mistake— something I could never take back. My brother died because of it, and I don’t think my mother ever forgave me. A few years later, she died in a horrible car accident.”
“My gosh.” Aria’s face was slack with sorrow.
“Anyway, I felt like such an outsider after that,” Carmella finished, trying to raise her tone of voice. She felt strange speaking about the horrors of her past so close to where Georgia slept in her crib.
“I don’t blame you,” Aria breathed. “My mother is… well. She’s a difficult woman. I feel like she’s trapped in a terrible marriage with my money-obsessed father, and she’s just too obsessed with money herself to ever get out of it. But she did tell me, a few years ago, that after I was born, her depression was so bad that she had to be hospitalized for a little while.”
Carmella’s lips parted with surprise. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“She only told me once and said it in a way that let me know I wasn’t supposed to bring it up again. But I often think about her sitting in a hospital, too upset to be my mother.” Aria stuttered, then tried to smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before. It’s one of those deeply ingrained family memories that aren’t supposed to see the light of day.”
“Every family has those,” Carmella assured her.
“I know that, in theory. The thing is, I’m trying so hard not to be a member of the Baldwin family anymore, so it’s strange that I carry these memories around.”
Carmella bit her lower lip, unsure if she should say what was on her mind. “Do you ever hear from your mother?”
“Sometimes.”
“I’m sure she misses you so much,” Carmella said.
Aria shrugged, her eyes glinting with tears that she refused to let fall. Carmella knew she was too strong to cry in front of Carmella, who was, to Aria, still a stranger.
“I really wish that I could talk to my mother again,” Carmella said suddenly, “if only to ask her some questions about the past. To ask her if she really disliked me that much or if it was just a story I created in my head.” Carmella stuttered, then said, “I just can’t imagine your mother doesn’t love you to pieces, Aria. You’re a brilliant young woman with so much to offer the world. I don’t know if enough people have told you that before.”
Aria was quiet for a long time, and Carmella was sure she’d overstepped. Still, as Aria gathered her things and eventually said goodbye, taking Carmella’s payment with her, she thanked her with a very soft voice, which made Carmella hope she’d gotten through to her.
Not long after Aria left for the afternoon, Cody’s car appeared in the driveway. He smiled as he drove, his hands at ten-and-two, then parked in the garage and entered through the door in the kitchen. Although she was still in her gym clothes, Carmella rushed toward him and threw her arms around him. “You’re home early!”
Cody laughed and kissed her, his eyes alight. “I thought I’d come see my girls. And…” Cody removed his backpack off his shoulders and shook it, “I bought some supplies to cook tonight. I figured we could eat something besides frozen pizza for a change. What do you say?”
“Why are you spoiling me like this?” Carmella said, grabbing his backpack and searching through it to find ingredients for truffle pasta with fresh parmesan, one of her favorites.
“Do I have to have a reason?” Cody kissed her again, then took her hands and danced with her through the kitchen as she cackled.
“Remember when we used to do this as middle schoolers?” Carmella said.
“I remember that you refused to dance with me when you thought other people were looking.”
“I was such a moody teen. I wish I could go back, shake her, and tell her to appreciate that wonderful skin.”
Cody dropped her over his arm as though they were Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and then he said, “I loved your moodiness. I was obsessed with you, remember?”
Suddenly, the baby monitor exploded with Georgia’s cries, and Cody lifted Carmella and said, “I’m on it.” He grabbed a bottle from the fridge, which Carmella had filled from pumped milk, and then set himself up on the couch with baby Georgia, who immediately calmed as he fed her. Carmella sat beside him, her head on the back cushion of the couch, thinking again about Aria, about what she’d said about her mother.
“I wish there was a way I could make sure Georgia knows how much I love her,” Carmella said then.
“Where is this coming from?” Cody asked.
