Page 85 of Floored

Isabel sighed. "Does this have a point?"

"Yes. Logan said, I hope you're not shaming my wife for what she does for a living or Lia for being proud of her for it because she's teaching an entire generation of girls that you can be beautiful and smart and sexy and respected, and none of those things cancel the other out."

Iz smiled. "Of course, he did."

"The radical and subversive celebration of the indomitable independent female spirit!" I shouted.

She widened her eyes when people turned to gawk at my outburst. "What the hell are you talking about?" she whisper-hissed.

I started laughing at her expression and couldn't stop as the flight attendants made their announcements, and the plane took off. Like when you're in church and you know whatever the thing is, it's not actually that funny, you just know you shouldn't be laughing. The entire time, Isabel was regarding me warily, like maybe she should've sat somewhere else.

When I finally got my giggles under control, I was wiping tears from the corners of my eyes.

"Yeah," Isabel drawled. "I wish Claire was here right now because you've lost your friggin’ mind, Lee."

I took a deep, cleansing breath and stared at the ceiling of the plane. "I think maybe I have too, Isabel."

She handed me a water bottle from the side of my backpack, stuffed safely underneath the seat in front of me. After I took a sip, I handed it back to her.

It took a couple more minutes for my thoughts to fully form. But when they did, I didn't feel much like laughing.

"When we get to Seattle in a hundred hours," I said quietly, "we will be greeted by a veritable army."

"True."

"But I don't think, until this week, I really ever thought through that I'd be a single mom. Independence is a pretty concept, a topic for speeches and posts and flower quotes, but the truth of truly doing something on your own is ... not always so pretty. It means long days and nights, of facing a lot of battles on your own. Yes, I will have so much help, but in the middle of the night, when I haven't slept well in weeks, I can't roll over and tell Jude to take that feeding or rock the baby to sleep because I'm exhausted." I exhaled slowly. "I can do it. And I will do it. But it's not a fun truth to face, and that's not always something I'm very good at."

Isabel hummed. "Are any of us good at that, though? I think you need to give yourself a little grace, Lee. What you're going through is really fucking tough. And it's understandable that this part—the closing of this door—is bringing up a lot."

The closing of the door. With Jude.

"I still miss him," I said quietly. "And I'm a little annoyed with myself about it."

"Be nice to my sister," Isabel insisted. "She got boinked by a hot footballer with an accent, resulting in a child that will probably be so genetically blessed that all who gaze upon it will turn into a walking happy sigh emoji."

I laughed even as I struggled not to go all weepy again. Pregnancy hormones were so weird. "You're right."

Isabel leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "I'm always right. It's my best quality."

I leaned my head on her shoulder with a smile and tried not to think about the growing ocean of space between me and Jude.

I tried not to think about what it would be like when I talked to him next.

I tried not to think about when I'd see him next, probably waddling around like a giant, puffy-ankled mess.

And as we watched movie after movie after movie, took more naps than I thought capable of in one long day of travel, I tried not to think about how long it would take me not to miss him.

When the plane touched down at Sea-Tac, and I powered my phone back up, I felt my heart skip a beat at the sight of his name.

Jude: Let me know when you've made it home safely. Precious cargo and all.

"What an ass," I whispered as my eyes welled up. He was not going to make any of it easy, and he couldn't even help it. He was sweet and thoughtful and stupid and sorta damaged, and I wanted to hug him as I waited to get out of my seat. I liked it better when I was trying not to think about it. When I was thinking about the army of people about to greet us with screams and tears, and oh, my word, they were going to be so obnoxious, and I couldn't wait.

But there I was, staring at his text, feeling my eighty-fourth emotion for the day. And a long day it had been.

Isabel helped me stand and kept a tight grip on my hand as we got off the plane and made our way down to where they'd be waiting.

I saw the balloons first. Isabel shot me a grin.

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