Rock Bottom Girl(136)

“I told you. Zinnia and Amie Jo and I got drunk and fell out of a tree.”





81





Marley





The lights were low. The kids, including my nieces and nephew, Jake’s nieces and nephews, and Libby and her foster siblings were watching a Christmas movie in the living room on the floor while Homer snored on the couch. My pants were unbuttoned after thirds of everything.

Lewis was opening our ninth bottle of wine, and Jake was holding my hand under the table while he grilled his mom’s boyfriend on his background.

Everything was just about perfect. Amie Jo and my sister were shitfaced and commiserating in the corner about how hard perfection was to maintain.

My mother was enjoying a lively debate with Max and Adeline about the education system. Dad and Jake’s mom were in the kitchen doing dishes and talking about Louisa’s water coloring hobby. Rob, who’d been up with one of the kids last night, was asleep at the dining table.

My aches and pains from the fall were comfortably numbed by too much food, too much wine, and too much love.

I didn’t have to be out there making a difference for thousands of people in order to matter. I could make my difference one person at a time. Starting with me. There was nowhere else in the world I’d rather be. And that was the secret, I realized. It didn’t matter what my salary was. Whether or not I had a corner office and an assistant. This feeling, this contentment, was what mattered most.

I loved and was loved. And that was the most important thing in the world.

Jake leaned over and whispered in my ear, “What do you say we sneak upstairs for some very quiet make-up sex?”

“I say as long as I don’t have to move around too much, you’re on. I’d hate to throw up gravy on you.”

“Let’s pop some antacids first just to be safe,” he said with a wink.

I followed him into the kitchen where he rifled through the cabinets. I poked my head into the living room and looked at the little bodies scattered on the floor, their attention glued to the TV.

Libby smiled and waved from the end of the couch. Homer’s head was in her lap, and Rose was squished up against her side.

I waved back, feeling warm and fuzzy. Her foster mom was working a double today, so we’d picked up the entire clan of kids and brought them to Jake’s.

Jake rattled the bottle of Tums. “Who wants?”

I heard adults from all corners say “Me!”

Jake was busy doling out antacids when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” I volunteered.

Homer grumbled and reluctantly crawled off the couch to join me. I opened the door and blinked.

My sister’s husband, Ralph, and Travis stood on the porch looking uncomfortable.

“Um. Hi,” I said.

“Hi. Are our wives here?” Ralph asked. “And before you feel like you need to lie for Zinnia, you should know I tracked her phone here.”

“Uh. Well, maybe?” My sense of loyalty told me I needed to check with Zinnia and Amie Jo first before admitting that they were here. And shitfaced.

“Hi, Daddy!” Edith peeked around me and waved at her father.

Ralph’s face softened, and he leaned down to pick her up. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Why don’t you two come in, and I’ll see if I can find your wives?” I suggested. “Wait right here.”

I beelined into the dining room where Zinnia and Amie Jo were laughing hysterically over nothing. “Your husbands are here,” I hissed.

“Who?” Amie Jo asked. She had an abrasion on her cheek, a black eye, and a broken middle finger.

“Your husband, Travis, and your husband, Ralph,” I said, pointing to each of them in turn.

“What about them?” Zinnia asked. She had a cut on her forehead and a raw scrape on her neck. Her shoulder had been dislocated and popped back into place.

“They’re heeeeeere.” I enunciated carefully, hoping my words would make it to them through the river of wine they’d ingested.

“Where?” Amie Jo asked.

“Oh, for the love of—your wives are in here,” I bellowed. The men appeared in the doorway, and I bolted for safety, taking the last of the utensils with me. Amie Jo was more of a schemer. But angry Zinnia was new to me. I didn’t know if she’d get stabby.

“What’s going on in there?” Jake asked, nodding in the direction of the dining room.

“They’re either making up or breaking up.”

“It’s the perfect distraction,” he said, dragging me by the good arm toward the stairs.

We snuck upstairs, giggling. It was dark on the second floor, and Jake fumbled with the light switch as he pushed me into the bedroom. Our bedroom, I thought. He flicked the switch, and the sconces on the wall glowed to life. The bed was made with…were those new linens?

“What do you think?” he asked, rubbing my shoulder.

The duvet was a nice, manly navy. Plain, simple, and a thousand times better than the scratchy comforter he’d had before. The pillows, well, there was a mountain of them. In blues and grays.

I crawled onto the mattress and flopped back against them. “Ahhh. This is really nice,” I whispered.

He slid in next to me and carefully rolled me to the side so he could spoon me. His body against mine was the more I’d been looking for. This room. This bed. This house. This life. I was sure. And it had only taken a fractured radius, an honest sister, and a miserable nemesis for me to get the message.