In a Book Club Far Away(37)

“But it doesn’t mean we can’t feel what we need to feel,” Sophie said, reaching across and squeezing his hand.

“Oh my God, she does give fucks,” Colleen said, now settling into an empty seat, a plate in each hand. To the book clubbers who’d missed the escape room, whose glances bounced among the circle, she said, “See what happens when you miss book club?”

“On that note”—Frank shook his head, laughing—“I have questions about the book.” He stood and passed a piece of paper to every book clubber, then stopped at an empty chair. “Regina!”

“I’ll be there in a sec!”

Adelaide turned to see Regina coming out of the bathroom. Her face seemed withdrawn, and Adelaide quickly looked away, pain striking her heart. She had probably just thrown up.

Adelaide, too, had been sick during all of her short-lived pregnancies. Her longest pregnancy was thirteen weeks, but before she lost that baby, she felt the full pain of hyperemesis. She’d welcomed it, though. Welcomed the surge of hormones because that meant her baby had been growing. Until the baby no longer did.

“Get your dessert and sit down before the children decide to become the Twelve,” Frank said.

“Don’t even say that. That freaks me the hell out,” Kerry DeGuzman, one of the newbies said. “Have any of you ever startled awake in the middle of the night to see a child just looking at you?” She shivered.

Most in the circle nodded. One started to commiserate about the strange sleeping habits of her child, and the whole conversation simply became too much for Adelaide. She stood abruptly, unintentionally interrupting. “Oh, excuse me. I forgot to grab dessert.”

As she walked to the kitchen table, Frank said, “Oh, by the way! Regina mentioned last month that she liked to cook and bake, so I asked her to make a special dessert today. Red velvet cake. Is that too much with the vampire theme?”

The crowd answered with a resounding no.

“Cake is cake.” Adelaide took Regina’s side—her plate was empty. Her friend had a hesitant look. After surveying the table, Adelaide placed a dinner roll on Regina’s plate, whispering. “Bread is pretty safe to try. But you’ve got to eat when you can.”

“Thank you.” Regina nodded.

“How did you even make the dessert?”

“I sucked it up. I didn’t want to disappoint him or the rest of the group.”

Adelaide admonished herself and her selfishness. Here was Regina, who made a cake for others while feeling unwell, and Adelaide had thought of no one but herself. She filled a glass with ice and lemon water and handed it to Regina. “Go sit, rest.”

As Adelaide contemplated having two pieces of red velvet cake to drown her sorrows, the group’s topic of conversation switched to food. She piled her plate and returned to the living room.

“I’m not a cook,” Adelaide admitted.

“You can cook,” Sophie said, with an overfull mouth, the bottom of her lip smudged with frosting.

“Yeah, but only simple stuff and appetizers, and easy dessert. But not meals—Matt is the cook. He grills. He has all of his family recipes. I’ve got mac and cheese, and I still get that wrong, though don’t tell my mama, else I’ll have to cash in my woman card. During our last deployment, I think I lost ten pounds because after a while, Burger King and Subway just turned my stomach.” She flattened her lips into a line. Around her, the clubbers reflected back pity. “I just wish deployments weren’t even a thing, y’all. I don’t know how you’ve done it all this time, Soph. Four times in ten years! This is our third in six, and I’m tired already.”

“Is it horrible to say that I’m happy they’re gone?” Nadine Sox interjected. She was older, with teenagers. “The last couple of weeks before they leave is always chaos. This last time, the tension was so high, none of the kids slept, which meant I couldn’t sleep because to sleep with teenagers roaming the house is just asking for trouble. I hate to sound like a brat, but I needed to breathe, and the only way that was going to happen was when he left. Though it’s just as hard now that they’re gone. My only consolation, seriously, was this book.” She lifted The Passage from her lap. “I kept thinking about Amy and her journey. How in the beginning she was caught up in the unknown but had no choice but to trust in whatever that force was. But in the end she was given all the extra powers to do good.”

“You mean she was injected,” Wendy quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Sure, injected. Sort of like us.” Kerry laughed. “When they raised their right hand, it was like we did, too.”

Adelaide was mollified. Everyone was in the same boat, but there she was, complaining to herself, and she didn’t even have any kids. She didn’t have other humans to take care of, or any extra responsibility that fell onto her lap. It was just her, her beautiful apartment, and her dog.

Some XO’s wife she was. She had everything she ever needed but couldn’t seem to focus on it. Instead, she was jealous.

It was shameful.

Adelaide straightened her posture. I can do this. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.

“I’m sorry. I acted pathetic earlier,” she said. “It doesn’t help for me to be so negative.”

“It’s all right. The first couple of months are always the hardest,” Sophie said.