Page 151 of When It's Us
“I know you’re trying to help,” I say. “I really do. But this isn’t your decision to make. It’s mine. And I need you to respect that.”
“Well, I just think—”
“No,” I exhale, centering myself, “I need space to figure out what’s right for me and the boys. Not what looks right to you. Not what makes sense to Peter. What feels right to us.”
There’s a long pause before she sighs. “You’re being so defensive.”
“I’m beingclear,” I say gently. “Setting boundaries isn’t the same as being rude. I love you, Mom. But I’m not asking for advice.”
There’s more dead air, and I could swear she hung up. I pull the phone away from my ear. Nope, still connected.
“I just want you to be okay,” she finally says, her voice resigned.
“I know. And I will be. But I need to do this my way.”
I end the call a few minutes later, heart racing but lighter—the kind of light that comes from finally putting something down.
Ginger
Myeyeshurtfromlooking at the computer screen all day. I need to start dinner, but I’ve been hoping to get an approval back from a client about her logo, so I click over to my email.
I scroll through my inbox when an unfamiliar email address catches my eye. The last bit has my heart rate spiking. It’s from Twisted Timber Designs.
Hutch’s business.
My chest tightens, and suddenly my fingers hesitate over the mouse. A familiar flutter rises in my belly.
After a few moments of hesitation, I click it open, unable to stop myself.
And his words flood over me.
From:[email protected]
Subject:Found you (miraculously)
Ginger,
I’ve never felt more ancient in my life than I did trying to find some way to communicate with you. I droppedso manysubtle hints at family dinner with Wren the other night, hoping she’dthrow me a bone. Either she didn’t pick up on it or she’s still mad at me on your behalf. Which, fair.
So I took matters into my own hands. I made an Instagram account. I thought maybe I could find your business that way.
Instead I ended up on the page of a bakery in Santa Barbara called “Gingerbread Dreams” and liked twelve pictures of cupcakes before I realized what was happening.
Then I spent two hours scouring the internet like some bootleg detective, trying every combination of your name, address, and the wordsdesign, marketing, branding,that I could think of.
Eventually—I found your website.Ginger Westbrook Designs, right?
And now I’m just hoping this email actually gets to you.
I hope you’re doing ok. How are the boys? I hate that I don’t even know if you’re still in California or if you decided to make the move to Seattle. And I deserve that.
I know this doesn’t fix things. I know I don’t deserve a response. But I still love you and miss you.
-Bigfoot
My breath catches halfway through. I chuckle when I think about him making an Instagram.
