“Size of my heart.” Carter held up a fist.
Phin relaxed and held up his fist. “Size of mine.” They bumped. He bounded up the steps and closed the door behind him.
“What was that?” I asked. “The fist thing?”
“It’s a stupid way of measuring things that can’t be measured.”
I rolled the USB drive between two fingers.
“Love?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and looked at the sidewalk.
“Are you embarrassed to talk about it?”
He shrugged. “It’s love. It’s, you know, girlie and squishy. He and I eat bark. We’re ultramen.”
I laughed.
“Should I be afraid of this?” I held up the little USB drive before tucking it between my thumb and the tomato as we walked.
“Probably blow a hole right through your system.”
“Can I ask about his mother?”
I didn’t expect him to answer right away, but I didn’t expect him to stay silent all the way back to the car. I unlocked it with a chirp, and he opened the driver’s side door for me. I put the tomato and Phin’s gift on the dash. He closed the door without saying good-bye.
Wow. I’d really screwed that up. I even asked if I could ask, yet . . .
He rapped his knuckle on the passenger window, and I let myself breathe in relief before I unlocked the doors.
He slid in. “You asked about his mother.”
“You don’t have to answer.”
He started talking before I even finished.
“His mother was a fuckup. First-class. I shouldn’t say that, you know? What happened to her wasn’t her fault, and I should keep it civil. But that was how I felt, and I can’t pretend otherwise. Some days I get really pissed off, but there’s no point, because I love him. He’s mine . . . my responsibility . . . and I’m not going to blame a dead woman for giving him to me. I should thank her.”
He was so conflicted and raw that all my questions seemed trivial. Were they married? Were they even together? How did she die? And when?
“He seems like a great kid.”
“He is. He’s like her in a lot of ways.”
“Did you love her?” The question came out before I thought about it, and I regretted it before it was even out of my mouth.
“Very much.”
He’d loved a fuckup. I couldn’t imagine the Carter I knew loving anything but clear-cut responsibility and accountability, but long ago, over lunch, he’d admitted to being a troublemaker. Maybe she belonged to that part of his life.
“I’m being a buzzkill.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I should be feeling you up right now.”
“You can feel me up on our date if you still want.”
“Saturday.”
“Saturday.”
“I should go back inside. I’m sorry I dumped all that on you.”
“You can dump anytime.”
The dome light went on when he opened the door. He didn’t get out. He looked at our clasped hands and brushed my finger with his thumb.
“I don’t know what it is about you. You made me dance. You stalked my house. I would have killed Vince over what he did to you. I haven’t done that in a long time. Haven’t talked about Phin’s mother like that to anyone. I feel stupid, but at the same time . . . I’m kind of relieved.”
“You’re a basket of contradictions.”
He smiled and kissed me, putting his hands on my face as if memorizing the shape.
“Promise me you’ll go right home and lock the gate behind you.”
“I promise.”
“And call me when you’re on your street.”
“All right.”
“I’m calling Fabian to lock you in.”
He got out, and when he closed the door, he knocked on my window. I rolled it down.
“Fabian doesn’t have to lock me in,” I said.
“I know. But he’s there already.” He reached in and locked my door, then stepped back and pivoted his wrist in a circle, meaning “Roll up the window.”
I did and he waved, watching me drive away.
CHAPTER 28
EMILY
I called him as I pulled up to my driveway.
“Is Fabian there?” he asked.
I waved to Fabian, who got out of his car and trotted across the street.
“Yeah.”
“He’s going to get you in the house and make sure it’s clear.”
He did. I set a bowl out for Grey while Fabian checked the shower stalls and closets, made sure the system functioned, and left. Carter stayed on the phone through my security check (tell him to check the studio), Phin’s bedtime (brush your teeth, my God, kid), and a conversation with his mother about who was taking Phin to the bus stop in the morning. I brushed my teeth, peeled off my clothes, and crawled into bed naked.
“You’re safe,” he said.
“I’m safe.”
“Everyone here is still awake or I’d ask you what you’re wearing.”
“Nothing. I’m wearing nothing.”
“You’re killing me.”
“Good night, Carter.”
“Good night, naked tiny dancer.”
I hung up the phone with a laugh. Grey leaned on the glass door as if she was guarding me in partnership with Carter, Darlene, Fabian, and a top-notch security system.
As my mind relaxed and my breathing slowed, I prepared for the next day. My brain cemented the moves I’d decided on that afternoon with Carter. My mind was clear. I didn’t interrupt myself with worry. I didn’t wake up and wonder if the doors were locked. The day flicked past like a video on fast-forward.
I’d kissed.
I’d danced.
I’d been honest and vulnerable.
Gone to get answers.
Been forgiven.
Opened myself in every way.
Instead of putting myself to sleep with my missteps, I drifted off with the feeling of Carter’s hand in mine.
Drifted off feeling what I hadn’t felt in a long time.
I was all right.
I wasn’t going to be all right.
I was fine right now, in that moment, all day today and again tomorrow.
I was who I was, and I was okay.
CHAPTER 29
CARTER
Phin had fallen asleep on his Kindle. I got it out from under him and wiped the drool off with my sleeve. He slept like a dead thing even on quiet days. His body was at 100 mph standing still.
I held up my fist.
“Size of my heart, kid,” and touched his cheek with my knuckles.
One day his fist would be bigger than mine. I’d get old and small, and he’d be a man. Maybe he’d tell me my love was smaller because my fist was, but he’d be wrong. I’d always love him more.
I felt a twinge of guilt for bad-mouthing his mother to Emily. It wasn’t respectful, but anything less than the truth felt like a betrayal. Or, at least if I couldn’t tell the entire truth, I could tell her the truth of how I felt.
When I went back downstairs, Mom was in the kitchen wiping the counter.
“She seems nice,” she said as I got a glass of water.
“She is.”
“You seeing her again?”
“Saturday. Can you stay with Phin?”
She rinsed the sponge and wrung it out. “He’s getting big enough to watch himself.”
She wiped her hands with a towel. Her hands were strong and calloused. My mother had worked in a garment factory until my sister’s career took off. Then she quit to manage the increasingly unmanageable.
“When he’s fourteen.”
“You said thirteen last year.”