Missy waved Marco over and placed their order, then turned back to Christy-Lynn. “So how was it? Your mother I mean. You said you found her.”
“It was awful.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“She says she’s off the drugs, and I think I believe her. But the sink was full of beer cans. She was so beautiful once, the kind of woman men stopped and stared at—but she looked all worn down, like life had broken her.”
“I’m not surprised after everything you’ve told me. At least she’s off the stuff. That’s something, at least.”
“I suppose. She’s got a boyfriend—Roger. They’ve been together two years. That’s all I know about him. Oh, and he works for a lumber company.”
“So did you talk about . . . everything?”
“I did most of the talking. It was all very civil. No fireworks and not too many tears.”
“How did you leave it?”
“She told me to leave and not come back.”
Missy blinked several times. “I don’t understand.”
“I think she was ashamed. It was like she couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”
“I guess that makes sense. It had to be hard seeing you after all these years, remembering how she was back then. Honestly, I expected her to hit you up for money.”
“I offered. She wouldn’t take it. She said taking money from me was one of the lowest points in her life. She claims it’s why she finally got clean.”
“Are you going to do what she asked and stay away?”
Christy-Lynn squeezed her lemon into her tea and gave it a stir. “I don’t know. She meant what she said. She really doesn’t want me to try and see her again. I left my number, but she didn’t even want that.”
“Then maybe you should honor that.”
“Maybe.”
Marco dropped off Missy’s margarita, promising to be back soon with their nachos. Missy discarded her straw and took a long sip, licking salt from her lips. “Sounds like she’s at least trying to take responsibility for the choices she’s made. That’s a good thing, right?”
“I guess.”
“So are you glad you went?”
Christy-Lynn picked up another chip then put it back down. “I don’t know what I feel. Or if I even accomplished anything by going. I felt like I was talking to a stranger. The woman I remember was never much of a mother. She was always too drunk or high or freaked out to think about me. And suddenly there she was, being all noble and self-sacrificing, asking me if I was happy.”
“And you told her what?”
“That I had a bookstore that kept me busy.”
“Is that the same thing?”
Christy-Lynn rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like her.”
“It’s a valid question, honey. I know there’s a ton going on in your life right now, but at some point, you really are going to have to give the happy thing a try.”
The nachos arrived just as Christy-Lynn was about to respond. She waited for Marco to disappear then spread her napkin in her lap. “Speaking of having a ton going on, there’s sort of been a development. Well, several actually.”
Missy set down her margarita a little warily. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Rhetta asked me to adopt Iris.”
“To adopt . . . oh my God, are you kidding? Where did that come from?”
“It’s a long story, but the short version is that Honey’s brother has suddenly decided to play the doting uncle now that his niece comes with a trust fund. He showed up and made a big scene about suing for custody. Rhetta was beside herself. That’s why she asked—because she’s terrified, and there’s no one else.”
“What did you say?”
“What do you think I said? I said no. I’m just getting used to the idea of having a cat. Can you see me raising a little girl? That little girl?”
“I can actually. And apparently so can Rhetta.”
“I can’t, Missy. And you know why I can’t. And it’s not about her being Stephen’s. Seeing my mother, remembering just how wrong things can go . . . I just can’t.”
“For the record, I think you’re wrong. That child has had a claim on you since the day you laid eyes on her. But I get why you’re afraid. So what’s the other development if I dare ask?”
“I slept with Wade.”
Missy nearly choked on her margarita. “Wait? What? When did this happen?”
“Two nights ago, when we got back from Rhetta’s.”
“He went with you to West Virginia?”
“Yes. Another long story, but one thing led to another, and he ended up staying the night—because I asked him to.”
Missy was leaning forward in her chair, grinning like a schoolgirl. “I knew it! I knew you were holding out on me. So spill. Was it amazing?”
Christy-Lynn struggled to keep her face neutral and to remind herself that ending things with Wade before they went any further had been the right thing to do. “Yes, it was amazing, but there’s nothing to spill. I told him I made a mistake, that I wasn’t ready for anything beyond friendship. And maybe not even that.”
“Oh, Christy-Lynn, please tell me you didn’t.”
“I had to. He wants more. And maybe I do too, but I don’t know how to be that.”
“That being . . .”
“A couple. Half of someone else.”
Missy sighed. “You were married for eight years.”
“That was different. I didn’t need Stephen in my pocket, and he certainly didn’t want me in his. In fact, there were times when he seemed to forget I was there at all. And I really didn’t mind. It worked for a while. And then obviously it stopped working. I don’t think I could bear that again. Not with Wade.”
“Are you saying you want Wade in your pocket?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Talk to me, Christy-Lynn. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I don’t know what’s going on. He’s a good man, a good friend, a good listener. He brings toys for Tolstoy and leaves spaghetti in my microwave because he thinks I need looking after.”
Missy groaned, then drained her glass. “Tell me, please, how any of this is bad?”
“It’s bad because I’m starting to depend on him more than I want to.”
“You’re scared.”
“Yes. And realistic.”
“Doors,” Missy said, staring woefully at her empty margarita glass. “You get that, right? That you’re slamming doors on your chances for happiness?”
Christy-Lynn nodded somberly as Marco approached with their nachos. “I do actually, though I prefer to think of them as loose ends. And tying them up is the only way I know to protect the people I care about.”
Tolstoy came running as Christy-Lynn stepped through the door, squalling insistently as she went to the kitchen to fill his bowl, then rescued one of his catnip mice from under the fridge. She had just retrieved her purse from the counter when she spotted the note she’d left for Wade crumpled on the kitchen table. She picked it up and dropped it into the trash without rereading it.
Slamming doors.
Maybe Missy was right, but it was for the best. Wade had already been hurt by one woman who didn’t know how to love him. He didn’t need another one.
And there was Rhetta. Tomorrow she was going to have to pick up the phone and make Rhetta understand that adopting Iris was impossible. She’d be only too happy to help place her with a good family and to provide whatever financial support was needed for them both, but that’s where it had to end. For her sake as well as Iris’s.
She took a quick shower to scrub away the aroma of Taco Loco then brewed a cup of Dar’s valerian root tea. She needed sleep desperately, preferably the dreamless kind, but when she stepped into the bedroom, Wade’s manuscript was waiting for her on the nightstand—another loose end that needed tying up. She had promised to finish it, and she owed him that much. Whether he would bother reading her notes was another story, but at least her conscience would be clear.
The light was still on, the comforter scattered with manuscript pages when her cell jarred her awake several hours later. She squinted at the clock as she fumbled for her phone. It was after midnight.
“Hello?”
“Christy-Lynn?”
For a moment, she thought she must be dreaming. “Mama?”
“I’m sorry it’s so late.”