It was another to believe that I was fit to be a single parent, without the traditional heterosexual, two-parent family that we’d been told was the correct way. “I have this patient at the hospital, Ruby. Her mom died last month and her grandma —”
“Grace is going to be her foster mom!” Mallory squealed in delight.
I winced. I loved her so much, but wow, was she impatient.
“A foster mom?” Elijah’s eyes widened, and his hand ran slowly over his mouth. As his fingers wrapped around his chin, his mouth tilted. He stood and lifted me off the couch into a giant hug that elicited a shriek of surprise as he rambled excitedly into my ear. “I never thought — I mean, I prayed for you to have a family, but I never —”
He released me, face still beaming with joy, and said, “Now I have to meet this boyfriend if you’re going to do this together.” His smile turned coy as he added, “Mama called him drop-dead gorgeous.”
I lurched like I’d been punched. Elijah stepped back as his expression faltered. A stunned silence fell between us.
"He lied to Mama, he’s not my boyfriend. He never was." I lowered myself to the couch, eyes locked on the coffee table. “I’m doing this alone.”
I wrapped my arms around my stomach and pulled my feet onto the couch to curl up. The victory felt emptier now.
“Hey, you’re not alone,” Mallory said, squatting in front of me to catch my gaze and resting a hand on my knee. “Just because my asshole brother went back to California does not mean you’re alone. And I’m furious with him for making you feel that way.”
Elijah chewed his thumbnail, a glimmer of understanding dawning.
“Mallory,” I said defensively. “He did nothing wrong. We both agreed —”
“I can be pissed at him for breaking your heart,” Mallory said fiercely.
“You can’t be if I’m not,” I replied firmly.
“Sure I can,” Mallory answered with a cheeky grin. “I’m still holding a grudge from every time he pulled the heads off my Barbies.”
“Exactly,” Elijah added gently, sliding onto my other side. “I’m still mad you told Mama I licked the frosting off our ninth birthday cake.”
“I spent hours decorating that and you just stuck your finger in it!” I answered with a shove, feeling buoyed by the memory and his closeness. “I hope you’ve learned better table manners, Elijah Noah Heywood.”
“Nope, still the same slob, Grace … what’s your name now?”
My voice caught. I looked to Mallory, who shared the name I'd chosen so he’d always be with me: “Grace Elijah Alvarez.”
“Are you awake up there?” Elijah’s familiar question echoed in the darkness.
Mallory loaned us an air mattress — a twin, she’d chuckled with a rimshot sound — so he could crash in my apartment instead of driving back to Isaac’s house in the storm. And after a decade of searching, I was pretty sure he didn’t want to let me out of his sight.
Our bedtime routine was an odd mix of familiarity and novelty, now cautious about privacy despite having shared a room for nearly twenty years.
I slid off my queen onto his twin. It was even more crowded now, two 27-year-old adults on an inflatable mattress.
“I’ve been thinking … I spent years traveling, never staying in one place for more than a few months. It was exciting at first, and it pays well, but I haven’t had a home in all that time.” His words held a touch of nervousness. “When I moved in with Isaac, I figured I'd stay until Rachel had the baby. My staffing agency has been sending me listings, but …”
Elijah’s hesitant breath hung in the air. Since he arrived at the studio, I’d been bracing myself for the inevitable disappointment of another person leaving me. But if he was about to say what I think he was …
“What if I stay in New York? I could crash with Isaac for a while, then maybe get my own place. Something like this,” he gestured in the dark to my apartment. “Although if you don’t —”
“Yes,” I interrupted him as I turned onto my side, reaching out to grasp his hand. My voice was hoarse, worn out from the roller coaster of emotions. “Yes, I want you to be a part of my life here.”
He squeezed my hand tightly as he recited, “Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.”
Chapter 40Alex
“This is serious bullshit,” Victoria slurred over her third glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Or was it her fourth? I’d recounted the partner meeting over the initial glass, and she'd dropped her head into her hands and moaned, "Shit, what am I going to tell my dad?"
When the server asked about a refill, she grabbed his arm and demanded, “Bring the whole damn bottle.”
We needed to appear celebratory to keep the Assistant Gossip Network at bay, and I'd wanted a secluded place to drop this bomb. At my desk, I'd covertly winked at Connor then used my cockiest voice to demand he ideally reserve the private room at Boulevard to celebrate without interruption. After that, he could go home since there was no way in hell we’d be back tonight. Then I’d shut my office door, dropped to my knees, and emptied my stomach into the trash can.
Thus, here we were, nine drinks deep between us.
“I gave them eight fucking years, and how do they repay me? By giving the crown to you.” Her hand swept sloppily towards my face.
I raised my MacAllen, offering a wry smile. “If it makes you feel better, they’re only giving it to me because of my brother.”
Her glare was so withering, my balls retracted. “Why would that help?”
“We can commiserate about our efforts being undermined.” Pretty impressed I could still say all those long words after all this liquor.
“Yeah, but at least when they fuck you, they buy you dinner first.”
Oooh, angry drunk Victoria was spicy.
