Page 62 of Lady and the Butcher
He left with the bell still jingling and my ribs too tight for the air they wanted.
Mei appeared with two paper cups of mint tea like a stagehand who knew her cues. “That was your brother,” she said. Not a question.
“Yes,” I said, and took a sip that unclenched something small.
“He looked like he wanted to wrestle a tornado,” she said. “You looked like one.”
“I feel like one,” I said. “Does that make me the villain or the weather?”
“Neither,” she said. “It makes you a front that brings change.”
I laughed. “You’re very good at this.”
“At weather?” she asked.
“At people,” I said.
She shrugged. “You hired me.”
“I didn’t,” I said. “That’s the problem. A man did on my behalf, and I liked it.”
“That’s not a problem unless he uses it as a leash.”
“I know the difference,” I said.
I hoped I did.
She gave me a look that said she believed I did.
Then the door chimed and she vanished back to the counter.
My phone buzzed again. Alana.
I’m bringing by the vacuum I borrowed. Also, you okay? Your aura is loud and horny.
I snorted. Me:Is that a medical condition?
Alana:It should be.Beat.You seem happy and also like you might chew through a door. You can tell me to mind my business. I love you, either way.
The tearing inside me softened.I’m okay, I wrote.I’m figuring out where to put everything. My heart. My work. A man.
Put you first,she sent back.Then the babies. Then the man, if he knows how to be third without sulking.
He seems built for sulking, I typed, then deleted.He understands triage.
Hot, she wrote, and followed it with a string of flaming heart emojis that made me roll my eyes and breathe easier.
Later, when the clock clicked toward five, the day finally slowed enough to hear my own pulse. I wiped the counter. Every nerve in me checked the time. Tonight kept sliding closer. I could pretend I was ignoring it. My body knew better.
I went into the back and opened the bag from yesterday’s shopping. The mesh set and the darker set. I ran my finger along a strap and felt foolish and thrilled. I tucked the tiniest box into my tote and told myself I needed options because that was responsible. The truth was less tidy. I wanted to offer him a choice and watch him take it.
On the way out, I paused by the window and caught my reflection. Not pretty. Not elegant. Not trying. I looked like a woman who had been up most of the night and still had room for more. There was a looseness to my mouth I didn’t recognize. A small light behind my eyes I didn’t quite trust. Atticus hadn’t put it there by himself. The babies had. The mothers had. The net had, because it let me lift my arms without dropping everything.
Still, when my phone chimed and his name appeared, that light flared.
Tonight, he wrote.
I stared at the single word. I typed back:After I close and shower. I meant the water and the ritual, but I also meant the day. I needed to rinse the voices out of my hair. Mom’s care. Stephen’s warning. Alana’s kind meddling. I could listen to all of it and still want what I wanted.
