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“I don’t know how to break it to you, Dyl, but your life circumstances don’t allow you to have this kind of ego,” Row quipped dispassionately. “Take the job.”
Cal gasped, and I heard her swat him. “Row, what an asshole.”
“Promise I’ll get to say that later tonight, and I’ll buy her a new car to go with the apartment,” Row murmured.
Yup. I am never recovering from this conversation.
“I don’t want your New York apartment,” I ground out. “I wouldn’t be able to afford childcare, and I’m not working an imaginary job and living a kept woman’s life at twenty-six.” I was no sugar baby. I was carving my own path in life, even if I was doing a messy job of it.
“You’re being stubborn and unreasonable,” Row accused.
“You’re being cocky and rude.”
Row snorted. “That can’t be news.”
“Your love is suffocating me,” I said.
“Your attitude is exasperating us all,” he shot back.
“Please,” Cal interjected. “Just…think about it, okay? You can apply for jobs there. Maybe something in marketing?” she suggested brightly, and I heard my brother kissing his way along her skin again, making my stomach roil with a mixture of anger, annoyance, and exasperation. “We’ll figure out childcare for Grav. There are plenty of options. You need to get out of there, Dylan,” Cal said softly. “Your job there is done. Your mom no longer needs you. She’s engaged, for crying out loud. Time to take care of yourself.”
Easier said than done. I didn’t know how to do that. I’d never taken care of just myself. I’d always devoted my life to someone, be it Mama or Gravity.
“No.” I bit down on my lower lip, calculating in my head how much it’d cost to fix Jimmy’s damn door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been over ten minutes. They should be done by now. I must retire to my fainting couch.”
“If you’re referring to the sofa in the conservatory…don’t. Row and I christened it last time we stayed over.”
“Cal,” I barked out.
“Also, the entire kitchen, guest room, and every shower in the house,” Row informed me lazily. “Really, stay away from the whole fucking house if the idea of people porking on its surfaces annoys you.”
I hung up on them and screamed into the ether for two minutes straight.
By the time I got home, Mama and Marty were no longer reenacting Fifty Shades of Grey Hair in the living room. Thank the Lord for small mercies. The place was dark and quiet, save for the humming of the fridge. I filled myself a cup of water, rinsed the dishes in the sink, and took the stairs up to Gravity’s room. It was precious, with flowery pastel wallpaper, a toddler bed Marty had assembled himself and painted in her favorite shade of purple, and white shelves laden with Grav’s favorite books. It was a messy room, with science kits and LEGO strewn across the shaggy carpet and her little desk, coloring books and traceable letters everywhere. I put my everything into Gravity. I wanted her to know she could be anything she wanted.
I strode over to her bed, my heart clogging my throat. Every shift I finished, every tip I pocketed, I always thought of her. She elevated my mundane, dull, unsatisfying existence to a higher purpose.
Gravity was the thing that kept me anchored. The steady ground beneath my feet.
Staring down at my beautiful girl, I tucked a tight hickory curl behind her ear. Even her ear shells were perfect. A laugh bubbled in the pit of my stomach, twisting up before I swallowed it down. When Gravity was born, she looked like an angry old man. Now, she was breathtaking—and the exact copy of her runaway father.
The same sooty, curled lashes framed the most striking pair of eyes: green-yellow irises bracketed by dark blue circles. I ranthe tip of my finger over the slope of her elegant, upturned nose, watching as her cherry-red lips twitched in a tiny smile. What was she dreaming about? What would she be when she grew up? In my dreams—the few I allowed myself to have these days—I imagined kicking down door after door for her, helping her reach every height and goal her heart desired.
Could I really give her all that here, in the small town of Staindrop, Maine? The same Staindrop that had one school, one daycare, zero prospects, and barely any residents? Even the new mall and flashy hotel they built a couple years ago hadn’t made the quaint beach town any more habitable than it was.
What if Grav ended up like me, stuck in a place she wasn’t happy in, settling for what was present instead of what was possible?
Leaning down, I dropped a feathery kiss on her cheek, barely breathing so as not to wake her up.
Sleep tight, my sweet girl, my heart sang. Mommy loves you.
It was ridiculous, but the final straw that broke my back was when I shoved my panties down twenty minutes later to pee for the first time in eight hours. I was sitting on the toilet staring down at my frumpy cotton panties and I realized I didn’t own a pair in any color other than beige. And that I had no real lingerie. No fun clothes anymore. No heels I could wear out. No friends to go out with.
My cheap, tattered underwear was a perfect metaphor of my entire life. Pale, insignificant, an afterthought—something uninspiring and sad and practical.
With a pang, I realized I wanted…well, more.
Life wasn’t black and white. Either dazzling Cannes fantasy escapades or dowdy, never-ending diner shifts and household chores. I didn’t have to live the life my luck arranged for me.