Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“I did.” I blow out a breath. “The camps are really expensive, honey. We’ll have to see, okay?”
The light dimming in her eyes makes my heart clench. It kills me not to be able to give them things they want or need, but there is only so much I can do. I’m making steady money now, but it’s not always predictable. I try to keep a good bit in savings as a cushion in case I have a really dry month or two. My parents didn’t live in a house like this in a neighborhood like Skyland. It was public school from K to twelve for us. No exclusive private school like Harrington, but our basic needs were met, and we were loved. We all knew that, and that is the greatest gift I can give my girls, even if sometimes it feels to them like they need more.
“But Daddy will be out by then, right?” Lottie asks, her voice uncertain. “And we’ll have a lot of money again?”
I grit my teeth. It’s galling that after all this time working my ass off, figuring out a whole new career and path for myself to keep a roof over our heads and food on our table, my daughter still thinks it’s her father who will swoop in and save the day. He’s the one who ruined everything. I saved us.
“Your father won’t be able to go back to his job,” I settle on saying, stabbing the salad with my fork. “You know that. He may not be able to help out much financially when he first gets out.”
“I’m sure your rich boyfriend will help us, Mom,” Inez says, her first words to me all night.
Everything and everyone go completely still, like someone poured a bucket of ice water over the table and we’re all frozen in place. Lupe’s spoon dangles above her bowl. Lottie looks like a little guppy, her mouth stretched open in shock.
“You have a boyfriend, Mom?” Lottie asks.
“What’s she talking about?” Lupe lets her spoon drop and clatter in the bowl.
“It’s exactly like Dad said,” Inez rushes on, her eyes narrowed on me accusingly.
“What do you mean?” Lupe frowns, looking between her sister and me. “You don’t know what you’re talking—”
“Judah Cross,” Inez cuts in, giving up all pretense of eating and shoving her untouched food away. “I caught her with him in the parking lot today.”
“Inez, you didn’t ‘catch’ me doing anything.” I clench my fingers tightly around my spoon like it’s a lifeline.
“Mom, just tell us,” Lupe says, a frown crinkling her brows.
“Girls, I don’t… We aren’t…” I go silent because it feels like a lie to say there is nothing going on, but I’m not telling my daughters, We’re just fucking. And even thinking that feels wrong—cheapens what’s happening between Judah and me. “It’s not like that.”
“But it’s like something?” Lupe persists. “With Judah Cross?”
“Yeah,” Inez says, hurt and anger bucking in her voice. “She’s dating the man who put Dad in prison.”
“I’m not dating anyone but myself. You know that. After all your father put me through, put us all through, I’m not sure I’m ready to jump back into a committed relationship yet, but I do like Judah Cross, yes.” I’m not sure those were the right words to say and want to take the admission back immediately, but it’s done, and maybe it’s for the best. “And for the last time, Inez, Judah did not put him in prison. Your dad did that to himself.”
“But he was telling the truth when he said Judah Cross had a thing for you,” Inez fires back.
“Your father is the last person you should be thinking knows anything about the truth right now,” I say, brittle derision all up and through my statement.
“You said yourself that he’s not perfect,” Inez says, “but he’s still our dad.”
“That does not make him a good man,” I say, trying to keep my own anger tamped down. “Or someone you can trust.”
Inez stands and turns, then takes a few stomping steps away from the dining room table.
“Where are you going?” I demand.
“To my room,” she tosses over her shoulder.
“Sit. Down,” I say, the two words like shots fired across the dining room.
She doesn’t stop and almost reaches the stairs.
“Inez Ana Maria, I said sit down. Now.”
She stops in her tracks but doesn’t turn around. Does not sense how close I am to snatching her up and sitting her narrow butt down myself.
“I don’t care what you see your friends at Harrington doing,” I say, my voice snapping like a belt, “or how they treat their mothers, but you do not storm off in my house. ¿Lo entiendes?”
Silence.
“I’m waiting for your answer, Inez. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She turns to face me, her mouth set, but doesn’t move to take her seat.