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’m a hornet. I can love. And I can sting.
I close the journal, retying the string that guarded Mami’s inner life. I will show Lola and Nay. They need to know these facets of Mami revealed in crinkled pages and fading ink. Our mother, the librarian who preferred books over parties and game shows over just about everything else, saw herself as a hornet. Loved herself fiercely enough that if no one else ever saw her, ever loved her fully, she would love herself enough to have some left over for everyone else.
And it seems bold. That feels brave. A woman who knew and loved herself well enough to rely on no one, choosing to risk her heart with more than one. Choosing to make room for love in all its varied forms. In a way, I think she was talking about contentment, and it gets to the core of what I’ve been wrestling with.
Alone or lonely? Single or in a relationship? Can I love myself unconditionally? Accept myself, creating a foundation, a model, for how I want to love everyone else? Maybe it’s not Am I ready for love again? but Am I ready to love myself that fiercely no matter what? It brings me back to the question I keep circling in my head.
Can I be the love of my own life?
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
JUDAH
Have you heard the news?”
I glance up from last quarter’s financial report and suppress my annoyance. Why is Delores Callahan darkening my door on a Friday afternoon? I need to leave in a few minutes to pick up Aaron from school.
“What news?” I ask, keeping my voice disinterested, even though she walks farther into my office and takes a seat.
I give her my full attention, sharpening my gaze on her face. Something’s changed about her, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“What’s different?” I finally ask.
“It’s the eyebrows,” she says, obviously pleased to have stumped me. “They really make a difference. I got them waxed. Soledad’s got a place she recommended.”
At the mention of Soledad’s name, my teeth clench. As much as I’ve tried to convince myself that I just miss fucking her, I know it isn’t true. I miss everything about her. The scent of jasmine oil. Seeing her small shoes kicked off in her she shed and watching her walk around barefoot. Her laugh. The feel of her under me, on my lap, in my arms. I haven’t even allowed myself to watch her on social media. I think I’m going through withdrawal.
“You asked if I’d heard the news,” I remind Delores without acknowledging her comment about Soledad. “What is it?”
“That hotshot lawyer of Edward’s has managed to get him out earlier than expected.”
“What the hell?” I take off my glasses and toss them onto the desk. “How is that possible?”
“He’s a first-offender white male who committed a white-collar crime and cooperated with authorities,” Delores says wryly. “Do the math.”
“When did you hear this?”
“Pop told me a few minutes ago. The FBI wanted to make sure he knew.”
“Is your father pissed? Does he think we should push for him to stay longer?”
My wheels start turning on ways I might be able to keep him in prison. Additional evidence that may have been overlooked. I feel myself tensing for battle, searching for what to do so that miserable motherfucker doesn’t make life harder for Soledad.
“I don’t think Pop much cares anymore.” Delores shrugs. “Edward did his time, or at least most of it. He gave the money back and won’t ever work in a corporate setting because this will follow him all of his days.”
“When’s he getting out?” I ask, glancing at the calendar on the edge of my desk.
“Next month. I figured you would want to know, considering… well, considering.”
“Considering what?” I ask cautiously, frowning at her across my desk.
“That you like his wife.”
“They aren’t married anymore,” I grit out.
“See?” Delores grins and crosses her ankles, leaning back and getting comfortable. “Like I said. You like her.”
My ringtone cuts in, and Tremaine’s contact photo pops up on-screen.
“I need to take this,” I tell her, giving a pointed look toward my office door. “If you could close that behind you?”
She rolls her eyes but stands to leave.
“And Delores,” I call, waiting for her to turn. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
She smiles and waggles newly waxed brows on her way out.
“Tremaine,” I answer the phone. “What’s up?”
“Judah, he’s… they’ve… He’s at the hospital. Oh, God, if he—”
“Hey, slow down,” I urge, even as I grab my jacket and walk out of the office as swiftly as I can. “Tell me what’s going on. What’s happened?”
“It’s Adam,” she chokes out. “He had a seizure, a bad one, and he hit his head. Just… Judah, just come.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
SOLEDAD
Now, before I tell you what I’ve been working on,” Hendrix says, leaning her elbows on my kitchen counter, “remind me who’s the best manager in the whole wide world?”