Page 97 of Branded
I passed her the basket, and Beth swooped in and helped herself to the yummy fried cheese. I made a mental note to add in a few walks around the block to compensate for the extra calories I consumed on these evenings.
“We’re thinking about adopting.”
Pru.
My breath caught, feeling too new to this group to be part of this conversation, but also touched that they had accepted me so easily.
Beth set down her cheese stick, reached over, and covered Pru’s hand. “I meant what I said at the wedding”—which had happened over the summer; I had been invited, but was so new and gripped by my anxiety I obviously hadn’t attended—“I will carry your babies.”
Pru inhaled sharply, turned her palm over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I know you meant it. I just…” Another breath. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”
Beth nodded. “Okay, honey. But if you do…”
Pru smiled, squeezed again, and then grabbed her beer, taking a long swallow. “It’s a long process to adopt,” she said, “so I have time to get over the rest of the nerves.”
Pru? Nerves?
“How?”
I didn’t realize I’d asked that aloud until three heads swiveled my way. “Sorry,” I said, lifting my hands. “I just—” A shake of my head. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Tell me about the process. What do you and Marcel have to do?”
Pru’s head tilted to the side. “Paperwork. Attorneys.” A beat. “Now, what do you mean how?”
I bit my lip, glanced to Hazel for help.
The psychologist merely raised her brows.
“How do you have nerves?” I whispered. “You just seem so”—a wave of my hand—“together and confident, and I’m—” I broke off. Struggled.
“Not?” Pru finished.
A shrug. A nod. My eyes on My cheese.
The table went quiet, the only sounds that of CeCe’s around us—the loud hum of conversations, the clink of silverware and plates and cups.
Then a warm, strong hand on mine.
“You’re fucking great, Kailey,” she said. “Smart and pretty, and you have this quiet strength that I envy.”
I frowned.
“Sometimes it’s impossible for me to sit and be quiet. I’m always chasing a high and for years, I used that high of life to hide all the shit in my life.”
“But you’re so strong.”
Pru’s smile gentled. “Is it? To be constantly running instead of living?”
“What about constantly hiding instead of living?” I asked and glanced across the table, happening to catch Beth’s eyes. “Because that’s what I’ve done.”
Beth’s face changed, a flicker here and gone, but then Hazel spoke.
“Is that what you’ve done?”
A breath. “No,” I said, “it’s not quite that simple.”
“Right.”
“But it still feels weak, especially when I can’t even stand up to my dad, and he’s awful, and now I’m supposed to meet Smitty’s parents, and they’re not like my family. They’re good.”
