Page 87 of Never Let You Go

“And my Lexie loves him above all,” she says in a low voice.

My throat constricts, and I don’t answer.

“And what’s wrong with that?” she presses.

“Everything. I can’t. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

“And why is that?”

“You know why.”

“Honey, I loved your grandmother, but she had some seriously twisted ideas about men and family and life in general. Happiness and success to her meant a very different thing than it would to you, or to a lot of people, for that matter. Tell me all that BS she fed you didn’t stick, did it?”

“But it’s true, Barb. It’s true. We’re not cut out for love. We’re not meant for normal families.”

She clears her throat, and I hear her whisper thank you off the phone, then there’s the telltale sound of her taking a sip. I picture her in a kimono (she would have thrown something on before calling me back, I won’t have it any other way), looking lovingly at a man leaving the room after handing her a cup of freshly brewed, organic, sustainably-grown-from-a-small-farmer-somewhere-in-India, evening tea. Having pondered my freaking-out outburst with a spirit now elevated to Gandhi-level wisdom, she says, “Let’s talk about it once you’ve had sex with him.”

Seriously. “You’re incredible,” I say, sighing and acting upset. Meanwhile, I’m overtaken by visions of Christopher lowering himself over my body, and the feel of his hands still burns my flesh.

“I know, you’re welcome.”

“I didn’t mean that as a compliment. Not this time at least.”

“I know that too. But you will, eventually.”

There’s nothing to say to that, so I don’t respond to that, specifically. Instead, I say, “How’s it going at Red Barn?” Which is not, in my mind, a total change of topic because everything that’s happening here is so entirely tied to Red Barn, and everything moving forward will be as well, in ways that are incompatible.

“Alright. I’ll come up and check him out in person,” is her non-answer to my question.

“Wh-what?”

“You need reassurance, I get that. Plus, I’m curious to see the man who woke up my Lexie. I’ve heard good things.”

“What—who?”

“Honey, I have my sources.”

My cheeks are burning. What the hell is going on? “Barbara,” I say, putting all my focus on steadying my voice and making it sound mature and responsible. “You will do no such thing. There’s better use of your time than pursuing…” What’s the word I’m looking for? Aaagh. “Trivial… hunches.” There.

My phone seems to vibrate, she laughs so hard. “You’re good! You’re good.” She laughs, again. “Practicing your board voice? Rita used to do that in her bathroom before going to see bankers, at the beginning.”

“You knew Rita at the beginning? I thought she hired you as an assistant later on.”

“We were roommates when she just got to Brooklyn. Your mom wasn’t even two years old, yet.” She takes a breath. “I practically raised her for a while.”

The line goes silent for a moment.

It’s too much for me to handle right now, so I go back to my previous question. “How’s it going at Red Barn?”

“The jerks are getting ready to fire my ass, so I’m prepping for that. Once that’s done, I’ll have time to come up.”

I gasp. “What? Can they do that? Are you lawyering up?”

“I don’t need to lawyer up. You’ll rehire me in a few months. No, I’m downloading all the data I need, a little at a time. To help us strategize what you need to do when you return.”

“What data?”

The sound of fabric ruffling comes through the phone. “Let’s talk about it later, okay?” she says, a smile in her voice.

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