“Have I lost my mind letting Jude take him for the week?” I ask.
“No, and by doing so you’re ensuring that I don’t lose my mind. You weren’t there to calm me down, and I fired one of the line cooks.”
“What?” The revelation temporarily distracts me from my Jude quandary.
She holds out her hands. “I’m telling you, I can’t be trusted when you’re not around for long periods.”
Trust. That’s exactly what I’m worried about.
“I mean,” I continue, forgetting about her problems with the cooks. “I think I’m supposed to be worried about leaving Max with him. What if he runs away with him? What if he sells him as a child slave? What if the whole point—”
“Stop!” Amie interjects. “You need to stop reading Facebook stories.”
“I’m a mom. It’s my job to worry.”
“You do a hell of a good job at it, but you also need to not drive yourself crazy. Basically we need to ensure sanity all around.” She grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “Look, anyone can see that Jude loves that kid.”
I blush furiously at the implication of her words— that Jude doesn’t just love that kid. It’s something that we’ve been dancing around for weeks. Amie doesn’t press the matter, though.
“Is this about how you two met?” she asks.
I shake my head. “It should be. I should be concerned. Why am I not concerned?”
“You are a one-woman sideshow act.”
“You brought it up,” I point out.
“I was just asking,” she says with a groan.
“Then no. Jude never misses a meeting. He never shows any sign of relapse. I’m more worried about my ability to stay on the straight and narrow than his.”
“That is impressive.” Amie raises an eyebrow. “Because I have never once been concerned that you would relapse.”
“Your belief in me is astounding.”
“And well-founded,” she tacks on as she begins to unpack the food she’s brought home for dinner.
I grab plates, grinning widely.
“We only need three,” she says.
Looking down, I realize I’ve taken one out for Jude as well.
“You know, if you two want to, um, how do I put this? Shack up together? I am not going to be offended. I can always find an apartment,” she says casually.
Amie has yet to see Jude’s house mostly because I insist on being here most of the time.
“We could all pretty much move into Jude’s house if that’s what I wanted.”
“I don’t think you’re catching my meaning. I feel like maybe it’s time for you two to be alone.”
I hitch my thumb towards the living room and the little boy watching Spider-Man. “We’re never going to be alone.”
“You know what I mean. When you’re ready don’t worry about telling me.”
“I am not ready,” I say softly. “I haven’t lived with a man since my dad and I don’t even remember him.”
“I just want you to have your family,” Amie says.
“You are my family,” I’m offended on her behalf.
“Yes, but at some point that might change, and it’s cool.”
I fold a few paper towels into napkins as I consider this. “When I sold my nana’s house, I thought I’d never feel at home again, especially with my sister gone, but you opened your doors to me. This is my home.”
“It always will be, honey,” Amie promises, “But don’t go getting obligation confused with sentiment. Men like Jude come along once in a lifetime.”
Deep down I know that. “It’s too early to even talk about,” I say at last, “We’ve only known each other a couple of months.”
“That doesn’t matter. When you know you know, or so I’m told.”
I want to believe in the possibility of true love as fiercely as Amie does. I’m willing to work for it and I want to believe that it’s found me, but the only thing that’s ever been able to find me is trouble.
A few days later and Jude has not murdered, kidnapped, or sold my son to the circus. Instead, he’s taken him to a local aquarium. Together the two have been building a Lego masterpiece in the living room. Today he brings him into The World’s End. Max visits with the regulars while Jude leans seductively over the hostess stand.
“I was thinking about taking little man into Seattle. I think he’d really like the Pacific Science Center.”
“No!” I snap, and immediately feel stupid. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t know every painful memory from my past and that city. “I mean, I would prefer if you didn’t go too far with him.”
Jude doesn’t argue. He doesn’t point out that Seattle is less than two hours away or question my reasoning. Instead he says, “That’s cool, but it just means I’m going to have to buy more Legos.”
I widen my eyes in mock horror. “Soon we’re going to have to live in the house of Legos.”