Chapter 15
chapter fifteen
Busy
I scroll through the photos on my phone, marking a few as favorites that I want to get printed so I can put them up around the house. I’ve been considering pulling my camera out of the closet, where it has been collecting dust since the day we moved in, so I can start capturing things that inspire me. There’s something inside me brewing, though I don’t know what it is, and I think it might be time to jump into the water .
It’s kind of scary, though, considering what that might look like. I’m sure there are plenty of people who would roll their eyes and tell me to get over it. Just grab your camera and start snapping. What’s the worst that could happen?
But there are many worsts, in my mind.
What if my inspiration has been sapped, and I realize I can never create again?
What if I get distracted from Junie and something bad happens?
What if the skills I’ve been honing for years have somehow disappeared?
What if I waste money on getting something printed and then I’m in a tight spot financially and the photo sucks anyway?
What if…
What if…
What if…
When I think about it too hard, for too long, it just feels really crippling. Debilitating. Like I’m frozen in indecision because of how many things could go wrong.
But then I remember the way Reid looked at me when he gave Junie her rocking horse, his thoughtfulness in leaving it unvarnished so I could add some personality , as he called it. Maybe I start there? Buy some wood paint and…but then I’d have to spend money. Maybe I take my camera out on a lunch break one day and see what happens?
I groan, my mind walking in a circle—the same circle I’ve been going over—for what feels like the millionth time. The bell on the door jingles and I almost sigh in relief, thankful to get a distraction from my own inability to make a decision.
And then I smile wider when I see who walked through the door.
“Hi, girl,” Marie says, walking right over to the counter.
“Hey!”
I step out from behind the register and give her a hug, surprised at how easy and natural it feels.
“Good to see you.”
“You, too,” she replies. “I’ve been meaning to come by for a while and I’ve just been so swamped with summer activities it keeps slipping my mind.”
I wave a hand. “No worries. Kids are distracting.”
“Don’t I know it.” Marie laughs, then her eyes track around the store briefly before returning to me. “Hey, I know things have been on the chaotic side since the store opened, but I was hoping you knew the Friday morning invitation is perpetual. We do Mom-osas every week, and I’d love for you to come again sometime if you can.”
I don’t mean to make a face, but Marie must see something in my expression that gives me away. “Unless you don’t want to,” she adds.
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to,” I tell her, truthfully. “I just…sometimes get people-d out.”
Her expression softens. “I get that. Maybe we could do something just the two of us, then, with the kids? Or without them. I hope this doesn’t come across as aggressive, but…I just really like you, and I want us to be friends.”
My lips tilt up at the sides. “I would love that. Truly.” I glance at the clock on the wall. “You know, if you’re not up to anything now, I was going to take a break and go grab a smoothie from that stand over by the marina if you wanna join me?”
Marie nods, and I make quick work of popping into the back to let Briar know I’m heading out for a few minutes. Then I grab my purse and we head out.
“So how are things going with the bookstore?” Marie asks as we sip our smoothies, strolling along near the marina, slowly making our way back to Happily Ever After. “It looks beautiful inside.”
“It’s going really, really well,” I tell her, pride swelling in my chest at everything Briar has done to bring her dream to life.
“I’m so glad to hear that. I saw the sign about the kids story hour in August, and I’m excited to bring Nina and Leo for that.”
“I know! I’m gonna have my mom bring Junie. I think she’ll love it.”
We stop for a beat before crossing the street, waiting at the crosswalk as a few cars go by, and that’s when I see her.
Sarah. Coming out of Cohen Custom.
I feel stunned to see her, but I don’t know why. It just feels…like a smack in the face, somehow. Blinking, I realize I’ve come to a complete stop and Marie has gone a few paces in front of me before seeing she left me behind.
She turns, laughing. “You coming?”
Nodding, I quickly catch up, and we cross the street. But I realize when Marie sees Sarah, too, because she also slows slightly then lets out a long, dramatic sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
Marie groans. “Oh just…” Her head nods toward where Sarah is walking in the opposite direction, staring down at her phone. “Those idiots.”
“Sarah?”
She nods. “And Reid.”
I lick my lips, suddenly desperate for any information Marie might be willing to share.
“What happened there?” I ask as we continue walking, nearing Cohen Custom and the bookstore. “I feel like nobody knows.”
“Because nobody knows,” Marie replies, chuckling. “One day, they were happy, the next, they were getting a divorce and saying they were just better off as friends. Like, who does that?”
A question I’ve asked myself multiple times.
“And what’s even more ridiculous is the fact that Reid told his mom he just wants to be a single guy, never wants to date or get married again.”
She chews on her straw, and my brain scrambles over that information, trying to filter it into what I know about Reid. He wants to be single forever?
And then, a truly selfish thought…maybe him ending the kiss wasn’t because he wasn’t interested in me . Maybe it’s because he’s not interested in anyone . A mild balm on the wound.
But then I remember the kiss itself, how incredible it was, how it felt like he couldn’t stop touching me until suddenly, it was over. I can’t imagine him not being interested in someone, not dating or getting married. Maybe he just wants to be a bachelor forever, sleep around, have fun. Though I’ve never noticed any women coming or going from his cabin. Still, it wouldn’t be unheard of, even though he doesn’t exactly seem the type.
“I mean, he’s my cousin, but even I know he’s a catch. And he’s great with kids and just…unendingly kind.”
All things I already know. Things I’m beginning to love about him.
I clear my throat, trying to shake away that thought before it settles, with no luck. That’s not what I need to be thinking about Reid. He’s made it clear. He doesn’t want anything else to happen. He’s not interested. The reason itself doesn’t actually matter. Our friendship is all I will get, and that has to be enough.
It just has to be.
Even if it physically hurts.
“I’m planning a family dinner for Sunday night,” Mom says as she finishes packing up Junie’s diaper bag a few days later. “Does that work for you?”
I nod. “Yeah. We can come.”
“Great. I’ll let your sisters know.” She zips up the bag then passes it over. “Hey, did you ever end up going back to Marie’s for those mom dates she does?”
Sighing, I tug the bag onto my back. “I already told you, I’m not sure it’s for me. I just…don’t feel like I fit with a bunch of moms, you know? They’re all married and in completely different places than I am.”
The way her mouth pinches makes me think she doesn’t like my answer, but I don’t know what else to tell her. She’s asked me twice since the first and only Mom-osa thing I went to last month, and I don’t know what to say to get her to leave me alone about it, to stop pushing.
“I did get smoothies with Marie earlier this week, though. I really like her.”
Hopefully that’s enough.
Of course, at that news, my mother’s smile breaks free. “Oh, well that’s great. I’m glad you’re at least giving that friendship a chance.” She reaches out and tucks a piece of loose hair behind my ears. “I just want you to have some friends .”
I roll my eyes. “I have friends, mom. You act like I’m some kind of town pariah.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Stop being dramatic, Busy. That’s not at all what I said,” she says with a sigh. “I feel like you find any reason you can to be upset with me.”
My head jerks back. “What?”
I can’t believe she would say something like that. Me? The one who is always mad at her ?
“What are you even talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I can barely even say anything to you anymore without you being angry with me,” she tells me. “At some point, you decided every comment I make is a dig at you. It’s like you’ve been mad at me for so long you can’t even remember why.”
I’m so shocked by her statement that I’m completely silent, trying to understand what the hell she’s talking about. She can’t possibly think I’m the one who is causing this tension. Can she?
“I don’t know when things between us changed,” she continues, bracing herself on the kitchen island, “or what I did that was so horrible, but I wish you would just…tell me so we can put it behind us.”
“Put it behind us,” I repeat, staring at her. “I told you I was pregnant and you barely spoke to me for a month.”
Her mouth drops open. “You didn’t tell me you were pregnant until you were six months along!” She laughs, but there’s no humor there. “It was like you didn’t even need me! Excuse me for taking some time to lick my wounds.”
What?
I try to mull her words over, certain I must be misunderstanding because…
What?
Something in my face must convey the shock at what she’s said, because she lets out a long sigh then speaks again.
“Every mother wants her daughter to need her, Busy,” she says, bracing herself on the marble countertop between us. “I’ve always been proud of you—how independent you are, how you’ve always blazed your own trail. You’ve never let anything stand in the way of whatever you want in life, but…” She pauses, her eyes dropping to where Junie is still sitting on the floor, playing with a stack of plastic blocks. “I guess I always assumed when you became a mother, that might be the time when you’d lean on me. I thought you might, I don’t know, need me a little bit.”
The vulnerability in what she says shakes me, and I drop down onto one of the bar stools at the island, feeling surprised and shocked and emotional in a way I wasn’t expecting.
“You’re my mom,” I tell her, my voice quiet. “Of course I need you.”
Her head tilts to the side, sadness in her eyes. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure.”
I glance around, suddenly feeling desperate to explain this to her but worried I don’t have the words.
“Do you want to know why I didn’t tell you I was pregnant until I was six months along?” I ask, though it’s more of a rhetorical question. “Why I waited to tell everyone? Because I couldn’t muster up the courage to say I’d fucked up again, and this time, there was no going back. No ‘fixing it’.”
Her shoulders fall.
“I’ve always been the one getting in trouble or breaking the rules or screwing things up and I just…” I shake my head. “This felt too big.”
My mom reaches forward and places her hand on mine. “Nothing is too big,” she whispers. “Nothing is bigger than how much I love you.”
I watch her for a long second before I speak again, and when I do, I can barely get the words out as tears threaten to spill down my cheeks. “It doesn’t always feel that way.”
It takes only seconds before my mom is rounding the island and wrapping me up in her arms, holding me tight in a way she hasn’t done—in a way I haven’t let her do—since I was a child.
“And that’s my fault,” she tells me, rocking us slowly back and forth as she holds me close. “That’s my fault, Little Bee.”
I cry into her shoulder, wishing I had just…talked to her sooner so we wouldn’t have this chasm between us, this open space we need to bridge. This thing has made us both brittle in how we talk to each other, how we act with each other for the past few years.
“I think I was so focused on what I wanted I didn’t even think about what you were going through.” She presses a kiss against my temple. “I’m so sorry.”
We embrace for a long time, so long that eventually Junie walks over and wraps her arms around my legs. “I’n a hug,” she says.
I let go of my mother and reach down to pick Junie up then wipe at my face, drying a few of the tears that have fallen free.
“Moms are imperfect,” my mother says, tucking some of Junie’s hair behind her ear, just like she did to mine a few minutes ago. “Even if we screw things up, we never stop loving you.” She leans in and kisses my temple again. “That’s a promise.”