Page 19 of Anatomy of Us

“And Tessa… if at any point you realize you aren't objective, that isn't failure. That means there's still something there.” Her voice softens, but it doesn't turn sweet. “And it might be what Zoe needs to see in you.”

She leaves me with the smell of coffee and most of her croissant untouched.

And a thousand questions in my head.

Back at my apartment, I stand in front of the unopened boxes.

Eight still sealed.

Clear evidence that staying is hard for me. In Seattle or anywhere. Always ready for the next city, the next challenge, the next way to feel nothing.

My phone buzzes again, and this time my heart skips several beats.

Zoe: I have a meeting with Nate's lawyer on Thursday. I don't know why I'm telling you. I guess… I don't have anyone else to tell who would really get it. Ignore this if you want.

My fingers move like they have a mind of their own, before my brain finishes catching up.

Me: Do you want me to go with you?

The three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Time stretches like gum.

Then one word comes through.

Zoe: Yes.

That's it. And my heart races so hard I can barely type.

Me: Count on me. I'll be there.

I set the phone on the counter. I walk to the boxes. I rip the tape off the first one. Books, articles, folders. My life packed up like it's temporary.

I start stacking the books on the empty shelf, one by one.

I grab another box.

I open it.

Chapter 7

Zoe

Wesley grips a chunk of banana in his fist and smears it across his face, laughing like he just invented comedy.

“Look how well he eats!” my mom says.

To her, anything her grandson does is perfect.

Wesley locks eyes with her, then blows a loud raspberry that sends the tiny bit of banana we managed to get in his mouth flying toward us.

“I have to go, Mom,” I say, leaning in to kiss the top of his head and staying a beat too long, breathing in his baby shampoo.

“Are you nervous?” she asks, even though she already knows.

“I'm terrified,” I sigh.

My mom hugs me hard, the way she used to when I was a kid and I'd get anxiety before big games.

“You're a wonderful mother, Zoe,” she says, holding my gaze. “Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Especially not that asshole ex-husband of yours.”