Page 76

A strong throwing arm.
SYDNEY
“I fucking hate him!”
“I think I hate him more than you do,” Nahla says, reading over the insurance policy and the letter the bank sent. Collin had changed his beneficiary there too, but not to Tatum.
Nahla pours me more wine, setting the bottle on the counter with a light thud. I know what you’re thinking: damn, she’s drank every night since her husband died.
You’d be right. I have. It’s called adulting. Stop judging me.
I stare at the bananas, and though I want to smile that Cason has taken up residency inside my head, in my body, I’m reminded while that’s a distraction, reality keeps bitch-slapping me. “It’s not even about the money at this point. I can make it on my own. But why? Why would he have done that? Was I that much of a monster to him?”
The empathy radiates from her touch. “Collin… that was justCollin. I’ll see what I can find out for you.”
“I have a feeling I know who it went to,” I mumble. I bet you do, too, without me having to say it.
Nahla and I exchange a look before Tatum’s singing draws my attention. She’s in the family room with Cason. “Me too. But let me see what I can do before you say anything.”
Nodding, my anger subsides when I watch Cason hold my daughter. They barely know each other, yet she’s worked her way into his arms every time she sees him.
They look so cute there on the couch with him braiding her hair. Fresh out of a bath, she’s wearing his baseball jersey. She’s drowning in it, but I’ve never seen anything so damn cute in my life.
Cason looks up from braiding her hair. “So she never needed her boyfriend? Only her sister?”
Tatum stares at the television but says, “Yeah.”
“That’s beautiful.”
She smiles over her shoulder at him, leaning back against his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I know.”
Two weeks. They’ve known each other for two weeks and are apparently best friends.
Nahla shakes her head, smiling. “She really likes him.”
“I know. It’s going to suck when he graduates.”
She eyes me carefully. “For you or her?”
I toss the ripped envelope at her face and pour myself more wine. “Shut up.”
Nahla ends up leaving, and I take a seat on the couch next to Tatum and Cason. He’s finished braiding her hair as the credits roll, and she’s rewinding to the parts with Olaf. The couch is covered in jelly beans and organized by flavors. “Don’t touch the butter popcorn ones,” Cason tells me, popping some into his mouth. “They’re mine and I don’t share.” He points to the pink ones. “And those are Loretta’s.”
“Am I allowed to have any?”
“Yeah, the cinnamon ones. They’re bullshit. I don’t know why they make them. I’ve written countless letters, and they still make ’em.” He chews slowly. “It’s like they’re not getting them or something.”
I laugh, knowing he’s probably completely serious.
“Bullshit!” Tatum screams, twirling around.
“Tatum.” I sigh, shaking my head and face-palming myself.
Cason covers his mouth. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it. She was cussing long before you came around.”
“Hit me,” Tatum tells Cason and opens her mouth, standing in front of the TV with her arms in the air.