“HEY, you. What’s up back in J-ville?”
“Am I too prideful?” Kara asked without preamble.
Marianne laughed a little. “And hello to you, too. Sure, yes, Texas is fine. A little dry, a lot hot, but what can you expect?”
Kara blew out a breath. “Marianne. Am I too prideful?”
“Yes.”
Wow. Well, you didn’t go to your best friend for a sugarcoated answer.
“But that’s not a bad thing.”
“Pride isn’t a virtue.”
“It should be,” her friend shot back. “You’ve been raising your son alone for ten years, without even the benefit of your parents for guidance or help. You’ve scraped together enough to keep your son happy and healthy—no small feat when you look at the billions of foods he can’t eat—and you still work with your passion instead of some mindless job you do just for the paycheck. You’re independent, you’re stable, and you’ve raised a kid who, at the age of ten, is already a better person than some fully grown men I know. Why the hell wouldn’t you be proud of that?”
“But do I let it get in the way? Am I letting pride act as a sort of, I don’t know, wall from life?”
“Yes.”
“Jeez, could you ease up a little? I don’t think my ego can take much more.”
“Good for you. Yes, you are letting the fact that Graham stepped in to help you—help, not control—get in the way. You’ve been doing it for so long on your own you aren’t entirely sure what a cooperative relationship looks like. That’s okay, because it’s understandable. Now you know, and now you know what the goal is. So get the damn goal. Don’t be a nincompoop. Show him you love him, too.”
Kara brushed away the tears coursing down her cheeks. “I never said I loved him.”
“I’m going to pretend I’m not insulted you said that. Hold on!” she yelled, then let out an exasperated sigh. “I swear, these men are all babies. If you don’t get them their ice five seconds after they ask, suddenly they’re dying and it’s all your fault.”
“How’s it going?”
“Oh, now you wanna know.” She could hear the grin in her best friend’s voice. “Practice has been going well. Competition starts tomorrow. Should be pretty fierce, from what I’m seeing.” There was a bit of a pause, and Kara heard the sound of ice and a metal scoop. She knew the sound well, having hung around Marianne’s training room. Another few seconds later, she heard, “Here. Tie it off and ice for twenty. And go away. I’m on the phone. No, Simpson, sit there. Right there. Good boy. Children,” she muttered. “They’re all children. If you don’t literally walk them to the spot you want them at, they’re clueless.”
Kara laughed. “I guess I’ll have to wait until you come back to hear about most of it. I wish . . .”
“Come out here.”
Kara rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. “You’ve forgotten, like, seven details in that statement.”
“You said he emailed you the flight information for the tickets he bought. Your plane ticket is for tomorrow morning. So . . . come out.”
“Just because things seem to be going the right direction for terminating Henry’s parental rights doesn’t mean it’s happened yet. I still can’t take Zach across state lines. And besides that, he can’t miss school.”
“So take him to my parents’ house.”
Kara sat up for a moment. “I can’t ask your parents to do that.”
“Look, I’m not giving them grandbabies for a few years, at least. I’m sure they’d love having Zach over there. It’s just for a few days, and Mom can run him to and from school. They’ll be careful with his diet. You’d trust them, right?”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“I’ll call Mom to double-check, but I bet they’ll be all over it.”
“Marianne, I—”
“Gotta go!” There was a click, and the phone’s screen blanked away.
Kara sighed and flopped back down. She still had work to consider. Though really, the middle of the week was her slowest time. If she called around, surely a few people could take some of her classes, then . . .
No, this was ridiculous. Nobody would just up and take a ten-year-old boy who wasn’t their own flesh and blood for several days. Watching grandkids was one thing, and most normal grandparents leapt at the chance to have their grandchildren come visit. Watching your daughter’s friend’s son who came with a host of allergy needs was another thing entirely. They wouldn’t . . .
Her phone beeped, and she looked at the incoming text.
Mom said yes, and not to dare think about backing out after this. She is thrilled about the idea of having Zach over. You don’t argue with Mary Cook. Pack a bag, drop it off at Mom’s tomorrow morning after Zach is in school, and she will get him from school in the afternoon.
She rolled onto her side and hugged her pillow tight to her chest. God, her friends were amazing. “Zach? Zach! Come get this duffle bag. We’ve got a few clothes to pack.”
CHAPTER
20