Page 71 of Seven of Hearts

She stuttered until, finally, the words came out. “In—in prison?”

“Well, if he was out of prison, it would mean he had escaped or was dead, and those two things usually make having a visitor a little difficult,” I deadpanned.

Those pursed lips were back, accompanied by clipped words. “Using sarcasm as a defense mechanism...I always knew he would be a bad influence on you.”

“You know, you have a funny way of apologizing,” I said as I dumped the empty bowl into the sink. At least I had made it through a meal without storming off because of her.

I never remembered my relationship with my mom being this combative. We were always cordial. Maybe a little stiff. But it didn’t get bad until Joanne and I broke up.

“Leah, his fatherandhis mother are criminals! What part of that do you not understand!” she bellowed. Frustration was written all over her face. “I am your mother. I want good things for you. He is the child of not one, but two incarcerated parents. Studies show that it makes him six times more likely to become incarcerated himself. Even if he’s not caught, his history increases the likelihood that he will engage in less than legal activity himself. I believe the statistic is somewhere around thirty-five percent. Considering seventy-five percent of crimes are committed by males, it makes him a likely candidate.”

“Oh my god. Do you hear yourself? Did you memorize all of that just to recite it in my doorway like some kind of robot?” I shouted.

My heart was beating faster and faster. I was not going to cry, dammit. It didn’t matter that I was pregnant, and everything made me cry. She would take it as a sign of weakness and a poor argument.

“Your face is glued to those goddamn degrees on your office wall so much that you can’t turn around and see that people aren’t fucking statistics! Logan is a good man. He’s kind and gentle and caring and a hard worker and a million other things. Maybe you would know that if you had taken the chance I gave you to get to know him. Instead, you ruined it because you are so prejudiced against the Solomons that you can’t even pull your head out of your ass long enough to get to know the father of your grandson!”

Her temples pulled back, and she lifted her chin. It was the look of a warrior going in for the kill. “You mean theBoyds. Those kids can change their last names all they want, but it doesn’t change who they are. I always knew you were idealistic, but I didn’t think I raised a fool.”

“Okay, damn. That was harsh.” But the sassy voice didn’t come from my mother.

She whirled around to see who was behind her as I craned around to see for myself.

Kylie Solomon stood in the hallway looking comically disgusted. “You know, I think your mom might be more fucked up than mine. And that’s saying a lot.”

The gasp that my mother sucked in could have cleaned my living room rug.

“What’s up, Laura,” Kylie clipped as she elbowed her way past my mother and into my apartment.

“That’s Dr. Holloway to you,” my mom hissed with disdain spewing on the sound.

“And I’m the fucking Queen of England to you,” she said, twirling to face my mom. “Have the day you deserve, Laura.” And with that, she slammed the door and locked the deadbolt for good measure.

Great. I had escaped a showdown with a lion just to get locked in a cage with a tiger.

“What are you doing here?” I said as everything came rushing in at once. The room started to spin, and I grabbed the edge of the kitchen island for support. It was all too much.

“Logan got caught in a construction zone outside of New Bern and asked me to come check on you,” Kylie said as if she hadn’t been giving me the cold shoulder for two and a half months. “Why are you crying?”

My lip trembled. “Because I cry over everything now and because I’m really glad you’re here, but also because Dr. Mehta was nice enough to share his dinner and he usually gives me some naan and I forgot to ask if he made any tonight because he makes the best naan, and bread always makes me feel better when I’m sad,” I blubbered.

Like I had conjured it, there was a knock at the door.

Kylie cocked her head to pitch her voice in the direction of the door. “So help me, Laura. If you’re not back to apologize, I will shove my foot so far up your ass that you’ll?—”

“Hi, Kylie. It’s Dr. Mehta. I heard yelling and thought Leah might want some naan,” he called through the door.

Dr. Mehta was used to my shenanigans with Kylie, so an accidental ass-kicking threat was nothing new.

I yanked the door open, threw my arms around him, and cried into his shoulder, nearly knocking the plate out of his hand. Eventually, Kylie thanked him for the naan, peeled me off him, and deposited me on the couch.

She helped herself to a drink from my fridge and plopped down beside me. “So, your mom’s kind of a bitch.”

I grabbed a piece of naan and nibbled on the edge. “I don’t know what her deal is. She’s been unbearable since she found out about the baby.”

Kylie looked down at the can of seltzer that had been living in my fridge for six months. “Why didn’t you tell me things had gotten that bad with her?”

Was she serious?

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