Chapter 4
Julia
Iwalked along the carpeted hallway on the way to my apartment while fishing the keys out of my purse. I’d had a long day, but as I neared the door, I heard a sound that had become pleasantly commonplace over the past few weeks—the muffled sound of children’s laughter.
I pushed open the door and had barely crossed the threshold when I heard, “Aunt Julia!”
My three-year-old goddaughter, Emma, slammed into me and wrapped her arms around my legs with enthusiasm. And just like that, the stress and frustrations of the day melted away.
I dropped my purse on the entryway table and scooped her up in one fluid motion. “Hey there! Did you have a good day?” I tweaked her nose.
She giggled, her dark curls bouncing as she nodded her head vigorously. “We made cookies!” she exclaimed, her blue eyes brightening with the memory.
I gasped in mock shock, pressing my hand to my chest. “You made cookies without me? I’m devastated.”
“We saved you some,” Emma assured me with the earnest innocence of a toddler.
Leanne, my best friend and current roommate, appeared from the direction of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Average height and slender, she wore her blonde hair pulled into a bun on top of her head.
“I barely managed to save you any because she ate seven of them,” Leanne said, staring at her daughter.
Emma buried her face in my shoulder.
“I don’t believe a word you said.” I kissed the top of her head, and Leanne rolled her eyes and headed back into the kitchen.
“Did you have a good day at work?” Emma asked.
“I sure did,” I replied, settling her on my hip. “Did you have a good day at home?”
“Mhmm. Mommy said I could have one more cookie for dessert after dinner.” She held her forefinger in front of my face to emphasize the point.
“Good plan. We can eat our cookies together.”
Her face brightened. “Okay.”
She kicked her feet, a signal that she wanted me to put her down. As she scampered toward the living room, I followed my nose to the kitchen, where the aroma of some unknown pasta dish beckoned to me.
The kitchen wasn’t very big, but it was functional.
A small table sat in front of two small windows that overlooked the front of the building and the street below.
Three stools sat in front of the bar, adding more seating and offering a view of the rest of the space, which included black appliances and enough counter space to hold small appliances like the microwave and air fryer.
As I sat on one of the stools, Leanne poured a glass of white wine and set it in front of me.
“Marry me,” I said as I gratefully clasped the stem.
She laughed. “Sorry, honey, I’m already married.”
I tipped back my head and drank half the wine.
Her left eyebrow lifted higher. “Rough day?”
I set down the glass and sighed. “You have no idea.”
She and I had been best friends since we were passing notes in English class at twelve years old. We went to different colleges after high school—she studied in California while I stayed in Texas—but we remained best friends throughout those four years.
I was the maid of honor at her wedding and godmother to her two kids.
Our closeness meant that when she separated from her husband, Owen, I was the one she called.
Not her judgmental family who insisted she try to work things out or any of her other friends—me, the one person she said she could always count on.
So for the past few weeks, here we were, two women and two little girls, crammed into a one-bedroom apartment.
At night, they slept on my sleeper sofa, and each day Leanne hoped her husband would come to his senses and demand she return home.
Unfortunately for her, that hadn’t happened yet.
“Want to talk about your day?” she asked.
“Aunt Julia!”
Leanne’s six-year-old daughter, Paige, came rushing into the kitchen. Like her sister, she had a head full of dark curls and blue eyes.
“Look.” She proudly held up a sheet of white paper with a drawing on it.
“Wow. That’s... something,” I said, not really sure what I was looking at. I shot my friend a look, hoping for a hint, but all she did was shrug. Apparently, she had no idea what Paige had drawn, either.
“Do you know what it is?” Paige asked.
I was afraid she’d test me, which was why I’d sought assistance from her mother. “Is it...”
I tilted my head, studying the image. I was pretty sure I saw four legs, and maybe ears. Or were they horns?
“Is it a horse?”
“No!” Paige giggled.
I tapped my chin. “Oh, I see. It’s a dog, isn’t it?”
“No!” She dissolved into laughter, shaking her head so hard that her curls whipped across her face. “It’s a cow!”
I smacked my forehead dramatically. “Of course! I see it now.”
I glanced at Leanne, who was biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. I shot her a dirty look.
Paige swung toward her mother. “Mommy, can we put it on the fridge?”
“Of course, baby. Let me get some tape.”
Leanne pulled tape from the junk drawer and affixed the drawing to the right door of the refrigerator, below Paige’s other drawing that was allegedly a picture of her and her sister playing with a puppy.
“Thank you, Mommy.” Paige beamed with pride.
“You’re welcome. Good job!” Leanne gave her daughter a high-five, and Paige pranced out of the room.
“You’re so fake,” I told my friend.
“Oh look, the pot is calling the kettle black.” She pulled on oven mitts. “You were going to tell me about your day before Paige came in.”
Though space was limited in my apartment because she and her daughters were staying here, I didn’t mind.
I had lived by myself for a long time and always assumed I was a loner, but I enjoyed the company.
As a plus, every day I came home from work, Leanne had dinner ready or almost ready.
I was getting spoiled and would miss her and the girls when she and Owen reconciled.
“It was one of those days,” I said, watching as she pulled a bubbling baked ziti out of the oven.
“I won’t bore you with the details, but I had two court appearances today—one was a child custody case, and the other was to testify about an interview I had with a nine-year-old who was being abused by a parent. ”
Leanne grimaced. “I know that was hard to deal with.”
“It was,” I admitted. “Then in the afternoon, I got called to the ER. I have a new case involving a toddler with suspicious injuries.”
“Darn it, Jules. How could people hurt kids?”
“I’ll never understand it for as long as I live.
” I took a sip of wine. “The day wasn’t all bad.
I saw one of my new clients today—a little boy who lost his parents in a car accident.
This will be an easy one, mostly paperwork.
His godfather is his temporary guardian.
They came by the office, and the boy wasn’t talking or eating, but I got him to eat some ice cream, and he seemed in slightly better spirits when he left. ”
“That’s good news. Poor kid. He must be so traumatized.”
“He is, and his guardian seems a little out of his depth, but he’s trying, and that’s what’s important.”
“We’re all trying,” Leanne said, pouring herself a glass of wine.
“I’m not surprised the little boy was better after spending time with you.
You were born for this work. You’re so good with kids.
I know you’ve heard me say this before, but you’d make a great mom. You should reconsider having children.”
“Bite your tongue.”
“Oh come on, being a parent is not that bad. You’re practically doing the work now with all your cases. You need one or two of your own.” A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.
Holding up my hands, I crossed my fingers, as if warding off a vampire.
“Would you stop!” She slapped my hands down. “I’m being serious. You’re a natural.”
“It’s one thing to be fun Aunt Julia or Ms. Richmond, the child advocate.
Motherhood is completely different and is too much responsibility.
I like kids. I love your kids, but I want zero, zed, nada—none of my own.
The stress would probably kill me. Now, enough about me.
” I dropped my voice. “Have you heard from Owen?”
Her smile faltered, and I immediately regretted bringing him up.
She stared into her glass of wine. “He texted this morning and asked how the girls are doing. He didn’t ask about me. Just the girls.”
“You know that doesn’t mean anything, right? Most men are idiots.”
She sighed. “I love him, Jules. Really, I do, but I’m not going to be invisible in my own marriage and taken for granted.
I’m a person, not just someone who manages the house and keeps the kids fed.
I have a degree—one I set aside to be a wife and mother, and instead of showing his appreciation, he acts as if he’s entitled to my time and labor.
He got comfortable. Complacent. At least, that’s what I thought.
What if he doesn’t miss me? What if he’s glad I’m gone? ” Her voice shook.
“Of course he misses you. You and the girls,” I said.
“I’m not so sure. I left three weeks ago, and he hasn’t asked me to come home.”
I stretched across the counter and opened my hands. She placed her hands in mine.
Squeezing her fingers reassuringly, I asked, “Do you regret leaving?”
“No, but...” She sighed.
“He’ll come around once he realizes what he’ll lose if you don’t go home.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“When am I ever wrong?”
We both laughed.
Leanne withdrew her hands. “I hope you’re hungry. I have to prepare the salad, and then dinner will be ready.”
“Eat without me. I’m not very hungry.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll fix a plate when I’m ready. In the meantime, I’m getting out of these clothes.” I didn’t have much of an appetite after the cases I’d dealt with today. And I was tired.
When I closed the door of my bedroom, it was like sealing myself into a vault. With more people in the apartment, my bedroom had become a sanctuary of pastel colors—mostly pink, lilac, and powder blue.
I kicked off my shoes and stripped out of my skirt and blouse, tossing them to the floor. Strolling across the carpet to the window, I looked out at Houston’s sprawling nightscape, which was alive with lights.
Somewhere out there was little Noah in his Robin costume and his godfather. “Uncle Marcus,” I whispered. Player or not, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
They had been the bright spot in a rough day. I recalled their walk to the SUV and the way Noah had reached for his godfather’s hand. Some clients stuck with me, and they certainly did.
I hoped they were doing okay.