Page 43 of Ella Gets the D
Ella
The walk to the front door might as well be a mile. I stare at the black paneling with brass hardware I’ve come to love and sigh.
“Are we going in?” Jackson joins me in the middle of the sidewalk. I haven’t left this spot since we pulled up six minutes ago.
Not that I’m counting.
“Yes, baby, we are.” My fingers tickle the top of his curls.
Any minute now.
On a deep exhale, I pull the strap of my purse higher up on my shoulder and cut the distance.Thump, thumpgoes my heart on the slow climb to the locks.
Tonight determines if we’re one step closer to a fresh start or back to square one. We’re not staying here if my kids aren’t comfortable sharing a roof with Julian, there’s no question about that. I searched for apartments in my price range as an alternative, only to find units with unidentifiable stains, insufficient space, or a trek from the other end of the beltwaythat would add an extra forty-five minutes of cursing at stop-and-go traffic.
Morgan threatened to knock some sense into me with her “good Prada shoe” if I didn’t stay put. I don’t have enough saved up yet to land in an ideal spot, and I can’t afford two moves within the year.
“Duke says his uncle is cool,” I say to Jackson.
“You told me, Mom. Four times.”
Of course my six-year-old doesn’t need a pep talk. I’m the only one losing my shit.
His small hand brushes mine. “We can stay out here longer if you need more time.”
My sweet boy.
Jackson and Haile know my mommy breakdowns by heart. Burning cookies for the bake sale. Reaching the baseball field only to remember I left Jackson’s gear at home. They love me through it all and always give me the space to stumble—or gawk at doors while they put the chalk we keep in the car to good use.
I pull Jackson in and kiss his head. “I’m ready now.”
A teasing smile lifts his cheeks. “If the food is awful, we can order pizza.”
Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Haile, you coming?” Her head is down to concentrate on her latest masterpiece: a frog in a cowboy hat. I keep a spare bucket of sidewalk chalk in the trunk she puts to good use.
“Yup!” She stands to brush off her hands on her pink pants. “Let’s eat!”
“Okay then!” We climb the stairs. The lock clicks, and I open the door to soft jazz and the fragrant aroma of marinara sauce.
What the?
We drop our shoes in the hall cubby and head through the living room to the source of the divine scent. Julian is in front of the stove, swaying to the croon of trumpets in black slacks andan untucked light gray shirt rolled to his elbows. He’s so caught up he doesn’t register our presence until he turns to face the kitchen island.
He startles. “Oh, hey! Didn’t hear you come in.” He reaches for a dish towel to wipe his hand and walks around the marble slab. “And who do we have here?”
Haile is first to step forward. She grins when he crouches to her eye level. “I’m Haile. Good to meet you.” She extends a hand.
Julian’s smile reaches the corners of his eyes. Hello again, dimples. “It’s good to meet you, too, Haile. I’m Julian.” He turns to Jackson, who hasn’t left my side. He matches Julian in light gray, only his shirt has Naruto on it. “You must be Jackson. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He scans his tee and says, “Cool shirt.”
Pink heats Jackson’s cheeks. Unlike Haile, Jackson has to warm up to people he meets, especially men. Charles’s inconsistent presence in his life is something I’ve compensated for time and time again. Jackson is old enough to pick up on who comes to his events, helps him with his school projects, and spends more than thirty minutes a day with him.
Julian’s eyes flick to mine when Jackson doesn’t speak. His perception tugs at my heart when he stands and says, “I heard you like pizza, and I hope you don’t mind making your own tonight.”
Jackson’s eyes widen. “From scratch?”
Julian nods to the assortment of cheeses and toppings in bowls on the counter. “I made the dough, but I could use some help kneading it. You game?”
