Page 84 of The Killer Cupcake
She stood, wiping the last of her tears, and straightened her spine. The girl in the attic was gone. In her place stood a woman ready to do what she needed to, to bring her child into theworld safely. She extended her hand to him. Maybe this was why Debbie and Willa did the same.
He stared at her hand, then up at her face.
“You don’t have to do this, Kathy. Not now, it’s too soon for you, and I understand that,” Ely said.
She gave him a sad smile. “Always selfless, Ely. Always putting me first before even your own well-being. I don’t have to do anything. I want to. I want to forget him. Really and truly forget. I want to start over, be her again. The girl you knew before all of this began. Can you make me forget? Do you want to try? Because I want you too, Ely.”
She saw the desire bloom in his eyes, years of longing mixed with uncertainty about her surrender.
He took her hand.
She led him through his own house to the bedroom. And there, surrounded by more evidence of Lea's presence—her robe on a hook, her slippers by the bed—Kathy Freeman undressed for another man. She gave herself to Ely Brown, not with passion or joy, but with gratitude and determination and the kind of desperate affection that grows when two people save each other.
Behind that closed door, her new life began.
CHAPTER 33
HARLEM NEW YORK 1952
"Hey," Matteo called out as he stepped into the brownstone, closing the door against the evening chill. "José home?"
Debbie's client was still counting out bills when Junior spotted his father. The boy took off on wobbly legs, arms outstretched, squealing "Papa!" Matteo scooped him up in one smooth motion, tossing him gently in the air.
The client—Mrs. Washington from Harlem—kept her eyes down as she handed over the money, but Debbie caught the sideways glances she threw at Matteo. There was gossip amongst women who were once her childhood friends. People whispered about whose son Junior really was. Debbie walked her to the door, shoving the bills deep into her apron pocket and giving her client a kiss on the cheek goodbye.
She locked the door. “Junior! I told you about calling him Papa. We said he is Matteo.”
Matteo grinned. “You did well, son.”
Debbie shook her head and smiled, too. Then her smile faded. She nervously rubbed her hands together. "Thank you for coming so fast," she said once they were alone. The downstairs was her domain—where she pressed hair and cooked meals,keeping their life respectable. Upstairs was where the bedrooms were; that was a different territory.
"Had some business to handle first." Matteo shifted Junior to his hip as the boy reached for his mama. "You said emergency. Everything okay?"
Debbie kissed her son's forehead, avoiding Matteo's searching gaze. "How's Carmelo?"
"Same. Angry. Spending all his time behind closed doors with Pa, planning God knows what." His jaw tightened. "They're freezing me out. My Vegas plans, everything. I think Carmelo's undermining me, but..." He shook his head. "Something's brewing. I can feel it."
She nodded, her stomach churning. "Yeah. Something is. I spoke to Big Mama."
"And?"
"There's a wedding tomorrow."
Matteo's eyes narrowed. "Whose wedding?"
"Stay calm, Matteo."
"Whose wedding, Debbie?" His voice had gone dangerously quiet.
She exhaled, the lie crumbling. "Okay. I didn't talk to Big Mama. I've known for a week." The words tumbled out faster now. "Auntie Brenda and Uncle Henry are already in Butts. Mom is sick with one of her headaches again, so Pa is staying here to keep an eye on things and take care of her. The wedding—it's Kathy's. She's marrying Ely."
Matteo went utterly still, Junior squirming in his rigid arms. His mouth opened, closed, and no sound came out.
“Kathy told the family she didn't want me there." Debbie's voice broke as tears spilled over. "She's getting married, and I can’t even go. She doesn’t answer my letters, she doesn’t take my calls. Big Mama keeps asking me what I’ve done. And I can’t tell anybody. I couldn’t even tell you about the wedding. Aftereverything I've done to her, I had to at least honor that one wish?—"
Matteo pulled her against him, Junior sandwiched between them, the boy's small hands patting his mother's wet cheeks.
"Shh, it's okay." He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I understand why you didn't tell me. I do."
