Chapter Thirty-Three
Haze
I drove to Jenny’s parents’ house to pick up Reggie. Sandy had been looking after him all morning, and she opened the door bouncing him on her hip. Hearing the doorbell, Jenny appeared from their living room, holding her laptop.
Sandy beamed at us both. “He’s so precious. I just can’t wait for our family to have a new addition.” She nudged Jenny.
“Mum!” Jenny shook her head. “I told you it could be a long wait.”
Jenny wanted to adopt. She’d been through all the checks, training, and assessment, and was now hoping for news that a child had been potentially matched to her.
The process had been so thorough, and Jenny had done so much to prove she was a good parent, it made me realize how horribly unlucky I’d been with the foster families I was placed with.
“You enjoyed your girl time this morning?” Sandy believed we had gone out for breakfast and a massage.
“It was bliss. Very relaxing. Thank you for taking Reg again.”
I picked up Reggie’s nappy bag and listened as Sandy lectured Jenny on her reading of a recent Daily Mail article that warned about the importance of washing vegetables in lemon juice.
Jenny was in the middle of nodding along when Frank shouted down from upstairs. “You all right, love? That door still sticking, or is it okay?”
“He slept badly last night, so he’s just getting up now.” Sandy patted Jenny’s shoulder.
“Should I go see him?” Jenny looked up the stairs.
“No need. He’s probably not decent.”
“It’s good, thanks, Dad!” Jenny shouted up. “You did a grand job. Runs smoothly now.”
Jenny had been renovating her house for the last year.
She’d been working nonstop on many different DIY projects to make it a more functional and aesthetically pleasing family home, while also wiping out any trace of its previous owner—her ex, Bill.
Jenny gave Sandy a hug and shouted again. “See you later!”
Sandy held her ear. “You’re going to make me deaf.”
“No, the old age will.”
Sandy gave her a tut and a shove as we left.
We got into Jenny’s car. “Why are you smiling to yourself?”
“Am I?” I hadn’t realized. “I guess it’s just because you’re all so cute. They’re so old and still worrying about you. And helping you out. It’s so handy.”
Jenny laughed. “It’s called family, Haze.”
Family.
Of course.
I was still learning.
I pictured Bibi and Reggie all grown up. Of course, we would be there for them and help wherever we could. The worrying didn’t end just when they were old enough not to face-plant in the bath. Jenny was forty-two, and she still got lectured like a child.
I felt a stab of realization. I thought I already knew about everything that I’d missed out on by not having parents.
Now I could see the loss was about more than just that crappy childhood I’d grown up from too fast. I might’ve aged out of foster care, but you didn’t just age out of needing parents.
I might be an adult now, but I still wanted to be a daughter.
I was still two loved ones down. I was still missing having a couple of people with whom I could be completely myself, as they knew everything about me and were obliged to love me, no matter how horrifying parts of me were.
I had my Fox. And he had me. And we had our babies. It was more than I’d ever thought I’d have. But somehow, the gaps were still noticeable.
I couldn’t say if we’d adopted Jenny and her family, or if they’d adopted us.
Either way, it was what we needed. More people to rely on.
More people who cared about us. It was too much pressure with it being just the two of us.
I’d been feeling this more than ever since Fox started struggling to be himself.
I turned to Jenny. “Let me guess, you’ve turned up nothing on McCabe.”
She nodded. “Squeaky clean.”
“He was impressively vanilla.”
Jenny stretched. “Lunch? Carluccio’s?”
“Oh yes, I can have that salmon thing you had last time.”
“No, that was at Redford’s.”
“Are you sure? I thought that’s what you were eating when we saw that blonde you had a thing with. You know, the—”
Jenny frowned. “Greta?”
“No, the smoker you hid from behind the menu! Remember?”
“Oh, god. Polly. Yep. She ghosted me after one date. Let’s not go back there in case she’s there again.” Jenny shuddered.
A few months ago, Jenny had decided she was ready to start dating.
She’d asked me to help her fill out her profile, and had held her breath while she waited for me to notice she’d ticked “women” under “looking for.” I told her there was a huge mistake with what she’d written—she’d described herself as a fitness enthusiast, and we both knew that was a massive fucking lie.
We’d cackled for a good few minutes, and then I’d got to work with swiping right for her, just in case her taste in women was as terrible as her taste in men.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I want the salmon thing. And besides, I make you look good. You need ex-dates to see you out with smoking-hot competition.”
“Lactating smoking-hot competition.” Jenny let out a giggle.
“Thinking about it, you really should add to your profile that you have a best friend who will kill anyone who fucks you over.”
“You set the friendship bar really high.”
I held up my hand, and Jenny high-fived it.