Page 57 of Challenged By You
“You don’t understand.” Lifting my hand, he presses the palm. “But you will. I have some business calls to make.”
“Oh.” Crap. I’ve been so absorbed in my own drama, I forgot Jonas has a column to write. As I unlock the dead bolts, I tell him honestly, “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
You would have thought I just handed him a perfectly baked dessert. His face lights up before determination sets in. “That’s because I’m a realpizzawork.” I groan at his parting food pun as he crosses the threshold. “I’ll text you later, Trina.”
“Bye, Jonas.” I wait until the elevator arrives and he steps on. Once he does, I close the door and flip all the locks. I give myself a few moments to luxuriate in the memories of last night and today before I push myself away from the door. Unfortunately, I have laundry to fold and a best friend to call, neither of which I’m looking forward to.
Very unlike the tingling feelings hearing from Jonas later is causing in me. Making certain the kids are still asleep, I allow myself one quick jump in the air because there’s only one other person I could share it with, and right now I have to find out first why she left my children with my mother.
And by the time that conversation is over, I might not be in such a sharing mood, I think dourly as I make my way to the storage closet where I stashed the mountain of laundry.
Chapter 21
Trina
The key in the lock doesn’t distract me from sliding freshly cooked pancakes off the square griddle pan since I know who’s at the door. And while I’d like nothing more than to finish our conversation to make sure she’s okay, feeding Annie and Chris come first. My children are leering at me like a pack of hungry wolves with their prey in sights as the smell of pancakes fills the air. I’m given a short reprieve from all the emotions flowing through me when Elle bursts through the door with red-rimmed eyes.
“Aunt Elle!” They race over to her. “Grandma said you were sick?” Leaning in the doorway, I see her bend over to hug my kids, increasing my guilt by tenfold.
Elle wheezes out, “You know how I’m allergic to bunches of things?”
Once Elle got a word in to tell me what happened, guilt has been clawing my insides until I’m left raw. Now, seeing her, I’m irrational with the need to make amends for the way I launched into her when she first answered her phone earlier. “Elle…” I move the gate away to get closer to my best friend “Annie, Chris, leave Aunt Elle alone. She may still be in a lot of pain.”
Immediately, my kids each lean forward to kiss the nearest body part they can reach which for Annie is a knee, Chris a hand. “Why didn’t you call me last night?” I wail, feeling like a failure of a friend.
“Because your night was special. Your first date in two years?” she argues in her now raspy voice, the crazy lunatic. “Please. I wasn’t interrupting that except for certain death. And…”
“And it would have been just as spectacular even if it had to be postponed a few more days or weeks,” I pull her tight against me. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you before I understood.”
“Shh. If I’d have come home to your mother saying what she did… Well, we don’t need little ears hearing bad things, do we?” She fakes a bright smile.
“Nono here, Elle,” Chris declares triumphantly.
“Is he, Chris?” Elle purrs. Her violet eyes shine. “Where is Jonas?”
“He’s not here right now,” I correct, blushing. “He left just after I finished interviewing Mrs. McPhearson.”
“Your next-door neighbor? For what?” Elle’s confusion is evident.
“Oh, Elle. That’s a long story. Let me get the kids fed first.”
“Can I help?” Hope and a touch of wariness war on her face. “I’m sorry, T. I never meant…”
“Stop apologizing. It was a series of events that led to some welcome changes. But now’s not the time to discuss them.” I stare pointedly down at my children, who are now racing around us in a circle. “Right now, it’s time to eat.”
As he tries to pass by, I swing Chris up in my arms. He squeals in glee as I make my way into the kitchen when I hear Elle say, “Anything except peaches. I don’t need another anaphylactic reaction.”
“I promise. This is a peach-free zone.”
“Except in the fruit compote your lover brought over for the ice cream,” Elle laughs. “Maybe he’s just trying to off me to get that number one slot in your heart.”
I freeze in the act of plopping Chris in the high chair. “Didn’t you read the label?”
“I did. It didn’t mention anything about peaches, but it looked like a local distributor.”
“So, cross-contamination,” I surmise.
“Likely. Which sucks because it was fabulous on top of the ice cream. Now, you can make up for it by telling me how your evening went.”
