Page 158 of For Wrath and Redemption
I reach into my back pocket for the keys, then press the keychain with the queen on it into her palm.
“Now. It all starts now.”
It doesn’t take long to move Claire’s things from Mabel’s house to ours, and within an hour, I have a moving company bring my stuff out of storage.
Neither of us has much, and I’m grateful for it. As far as I’m concerned, the only things that matter moving forward are the things we’ll have together.
I text Mabel to thank her and ask her to tell Callie and Sav that Claire loves the house. Then, instead of driving back to Sav’s so they can all welcome me home from my second stint in rehab, we plan to have a housewarming cookout next weekend.
Then something dawns on me.
“We don’t have groceries.”
“Oh.” Claire laughs. “Can we order something to be delivered?”
“Pizza?”
“Pizza.”
I pull up the closest pizza delivery place, click on the online ordering page, then pause. I have no idea how her recovery has been going. I glance at her and try to read her body language. Try to determine if thetopic of food has made her uncomfortable or anxious, but she looks unbothered.
I almost let that be enough, but I can’t. I can’t, and I shouldn’t. That’s something I’m learning. Communication is essential in relationships and crucial for recovery.
“Trouble. How are you doing?”
She looks up from her phone. “What do you mean?”
“With your recovery. With your eating disorder. We didn’t talk about it in New York, and I should have checked in with you sooner. How are you?”
“Oh.” She clicks her phone off and drops it in her lap. “I haven’t purged at all, so that’s good. But somedays are harder than others.”
“How so?”
“It’s been difficult seeing these changes in my body. Stepping on a scale at the doctor’s office. Buying bigger clothes. Having to scale back my workouts. It’s all been, well, hard. That trauma doesn’t heal overnight, you know? And throwing in these pregnancy hormones and crazy cravings doesn’t make it any easier to manage. But I’ve been meeting with my therapist weekly, and knowing that any relapse could have a negative impact on the baby has helped with making healthy decisions, too.”
My brow furrows. “What about the negative impacts it could have on you?”
“I’m getting there. Right now, though, I’m proud of the progress I’ve made.” She places a hand on her stomach. “And I’m really proud of what my body is accomplishing. I’m confident I’ll get to where I need to be. I promise.”
“I’m proud of you, too, Claire.”
“Thank you.” She smiles. “We both have a lot to be proud of.”
My lips curve into a smile that matches hers, and our gazes hold long enough that my skin starts to heat. Then I drop my eyes back to my phone.
“Okay, then. Pizza. What do you like? I have no idea.”
“Whatever. I’m easy.”
I tilt my head to the side and look her over. “Liar. You like something weird, don’t you?”
“Well...” Claire scrunches up her nose. “I have these cravings, so...”
“What is it? Just tell me. We’ll get whatever you want.”
“Banana peppers, black olives, and barbeque chicken.” I scrunch up my nose, and she smirks. “I’ll also eat pepperoni, though.”
“Nope.” I shake my head and start selecting ingredients. “Banana peppers, black olives, and barbeque chicken it is. Gotta keep my babies fed.”
