Page 63 of The Love Dose
That would be eighteen hours ago.
I hand the balloon to Chacha. “Hungry?”
“Only for an American hamburger and french fries,” he says, his attention on the helium-filled gift hovering above us.
I laugh. The boy is a hoot. The papers are nearly finalized. We have a court appearance next week and then he’ll officially be mine. Chacha Sinclair.
For someone who gave up on having a family years ago, I feel blessed beyond words.
Chacha kisses my cheek and I hug him fiercely. “Ready for cold?”
I help him into the coat, which he assesses with an adult-like skepticism.
“You’re going to need it,” I say.
He’ll start kindergarten after Christmas break. I already spoke with the school and my boss. I’m still interviewing sitters. It’s slowly coming together.
I hope.
Chapter Forty-Five
Caroline
Sam and I keep a brisk pace down Fifth Avenue, heading in the direction of Tiffany’s. The street is crowded with tourists and holiday shoppers. Three days till Christmas. The iconic blue sign makes me think of Audrey Hepburn inBreakfast at Tiffany’s. I love that film. George Peppard was hottie. Come to think of it, Calvin bears a strong resemblance to the actor.
Calvin.
I think of him, a lot.
I also think about Sugarbush Falls, the festive decorations, twinkling lights of the gazebo, the friendly people I met, Aunt Pearl.
I’m nearing the store, wondering if I should be more cost conscious with my holiday shopping.
“How’d the meeting go with your lawyer?” Sam asks.
“I’m taking it,” I say.
Sam stops short, her brow hitting the cloudless sky. “You’re accepting the settlement offer?”
I nod. “I won’t get a moment’s peace, even if I win. They’ll appeal, make my life miserable.”
“But there are millions on the line?—”
“I know I’m crazy but I’ve had an epiphany—of a quieter, less materialistic life.”
People are pushing past us. Stopping mid-block is a Manhattan no-no. We keep walking, past Tiffany’s. It’s like going by a Krispy Kreme when on a strict diet.
“That was one week, Caroline. Living like that forever is something different.”
“I’m fifty. Forever isn’t quite as long as it used to be.”
I rarely speak my age aloud but it feels pretty okay. Sam, on the other hand, is blinking rapidly, like she can’t compute my decision.
“I will keep the car, apartment and its contents. If I want, I can sell the place for a bundle and live elsewhere like a queen for far less.”
Sam’s expression is stuck on disbelief. “Maybe a princess.”
I shrug. “You’ll teach me how to budget, be my advisor.”
