Page 51 of Challenged By You
Trina
It’s slightly after dawn the next morning when Jonas drives us back to the Bronx. My hand is held firmly against his thigh except when he has to shift. With a smirk, I note, “You’re lucky parking fees aren’t going to eat a chunk into your ‘salary,’ Rice.”
Humor dancing in his dark eyes, he pulls into the parking space I’ve never used but come as a perk of my particular unit. “Completely lucked out,” he agrees. “Now that I have to ‘live off’ the same food budget you do, I honestly don’t know how you manage for one, let alone three.”
I slide out before answering him. We meet around the back of his car where he clasps my hand in his. As we walk to the bank of elevators, I shrug, “A lot of it is strict planning. Luxuries are few and far between, but I’m grateful to you,” I concede as the car arrives and we step in.
“For what?”
“For forcing me to show you my New York. For so many years I thought it was this cold, heartless place. Maybe there are people who are, but that’s the truth anywhere, isn’t it?”
Jonas tugs me back into him, before answering me. “I think that’s true no matter where you are. I think some people get off on being cruel to build themselves up. When I reread what I wrote in some of my columns, I realized I was in danger of that.”
I’m about to ask him what he means when I catch the silver doors sliding shut. “Crap. I forgot to press my floor.” I quickly using my dongle before punching the button for my floor.
He assumes his haughty air. “I have that effect on women.”
I punch him in his rock-hard stomach before leaning into him, trusting the emotional connection between us especially after last night. This Jonas Rice isn’t just pithy words on paper; he’s a man with an enormous heart. Unfortunately, like mine, his heart has tiny holes that have organically formed due to life.
“We’re like Swiss Lorraine,” I proclaim as the elevator rises.
Jonas chokes. “Cheap, smelly cheese? Couldn’t you have picked triple creme? Christ, after tasting something so delicious—over and over—last night, can’t you come up with a better comparison? Don’t I deserve Emmenthaler at the very least?”
I twist around and press a smacking kiss on his lips just as the door slides open. “No, you dork. I mean we each have this crazy slice of life, but they have thousands of tiny holes in them that keep them from being perfect.” I conclude my analysis just as I insert the first key in the lock. Repeating the process twice more, I hold a finger to my lips. I then tuck my hands beneath my cheek knowing Elle and my babies should still be sleeping.
He nods. “Okay, Lorraine.”
I can’t prevent the giggle from escaping as I push open the door. Then the sound dries up as Jonas crashes into my back.
Because it’s not Elle lying in my daybed lightly snoring like I expect when I push the door open.
Instead, my mother’s sitting on the couch wearing an expression I haven’t seen in more than two years. It’s fury combined with disgust.
And just like with my children, I step in front of Jonas to shield him from it.
* * *
“Mom,”I try to placate her.
“Shut your mouth, Trina. God, with everything I’ve done to help you, this is the kind of example you set for those babies?”
We’re in the hallway where she stormed after seeing me and Jonas together. For the last twenty minutes, I’ve had my behavior likened to a streetwalker, an unfit mother, and what might be the worst of all things in her mind, my father.
“You left those babies alone all night with…with that woman!” she sputters. My temper begins to fray as she starts to malign my best friend.
“Annie and Chris love being around Elle.” I try to hold on to my fraying patience. “She’s over several times a week—”
“What, giving you time to go off galivanting? Maybe those babies would have been better off with their father.” Her words are aimed perfectly for my heart.
“You can’t mean that,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself.
She straightens her shoulders. “I certainly can. And furthermore, I refuse to be a party to such behavior. You don’t think I don’t have you figured out? All your life you’ve acted like you’re too good for the life you’ve been escaped from.”
“You’re the life I escaped from,” I hurl at her, unable to contain the pain any longer. “You and your hateful words. What did I ever do to you except exist?”
She takes a step back as if I’ve slapped her. “How dare you with everything I’ve done for you?”
“Everything you did?” I ask incredulously. “What did you do except berate me—including just now when you said my kids were better off with someone, anyone, other than me?”
