The Anatomical Shape of a Heart(51)

“You’re not the least bit sad he’s moving in with Noah?”

“Of course I’m sad. He’s my baby. He always will be, even when he’s fifty and has kids of his own.”

I tried to picture Heath as a father. “Do they make studded leather diapers?”

“Imagine trying to clean those.”

“Blech. I’d rather not.”

“While we’re on the subject, I brought something home from the hospital for you.” She pointed toward the opposite wall, where a stack of folded multicolored scrubs sat on a rocking chair. My gaze swept upward to the nearby chest of drawers. Hold on. What was that, sitting on top?

Oh. Oh.

A tower of condom boxes, all shrink-wrapped together.

I wanted to dissolve into vapor and hide under the floorboards.

“As much as I, myself, have fantasized about having Mayor Vincent’s love child—”

I covered my ears. “Please, stop. Don’t say anything else.”

“—I don’t want to raise a grandchild while you run off to college.”

“There is zero chance of that happening at the moment, I promise.”

“Moments change, and that boy is awfully charming. Besides, you’re smiling a lot lately, and that’s always a bad sign.”

“Oh, God,” I said, moaning. She knew how I felt about him. How did she do that? I hardly knew it myself. I wasn’t even positive. Maybe I was just riding a wave of body chemicals and animal attraction. I mean, how well did I even know Jack? He could have some irritating habit I didn’t know about—some hidden character flaw. I didn’t realize Howard Hooper was homophobic until I’d had sex with him four times. (Then again, maybe I was the one with the character flaw because I was stupid enough to have sex with a jackass.)

Mom had never once pushed condoms on me. Sure, there were some in the bathroom drawer, and I’d had multiple safe-sex conversations with her over the years; she is a nurse. But why now?

“I can’t take them back,” Mom argued. “It’s one thing to abscond with supplies and a whole other thing to sneak them back in.”

“They’re stolen? You’re a terrible influence.”

“The supply manager was rotating stock and were going to throw them away because they expire at the end of the year, which was ridiculous. At least five months of use left in them. Probably more.”

“So, you’re telling me these are leftover garbage condoms?”

“They haven’t been used, Bex. You know I hate waste.”

“Maybe you should hand them out on Halloween instead of candy.”

“Don’t be smart. They’re perfectly fine. I bring them home for Heath all the time.”

Too much information. I quickly steered the conversation back between the yellow lines. “If you’re asleep when I wake up, I’ll see you in the afternoon.”

She rolled onto her side, with her back facing me, and curled up with her e-reader again. “Tomorrow I have to run an errand in the Mission at lunch. If you want to come with, we can get burritos at El Farolito. I have a coupon.”

Of course she did. “Sounds good.”

“Night.” She kissed her fingers and wiggled them at me over her shoulder.

I stood there for a moment, grabbed the stack of condom boxes, and quickly made my way back to my room to stash it in the bottom of my wardrobe. Eight boxes. That was a lot of condoms. I could probably sell them at school in the fall and make some extra cash.

Or …

But I didn’t have time to think about or. I had only fifteen minutes to dress in black—definitely not a problem, since I barely owned anything with color—and make my big escape. Arranging dummy humanoid shapes under the covers never worked for anyone in the history of the world, so I just left a note on my pillow that said: I’m fine, don’t worry. I’ll be back before dawn. If you’ve busted me, please remember I’m the good kid. And if it’s Heath reading this, cover for me. You owe me, big-time.

It took me several minutes and snail-paced movements to close my X-ray doors behind me and sneak outside. I tiptoed down the front steps and watched the living room window for movement. Nothing. I’d made it!

“Psst!”

I spun around and spotted a dark figure behind the stairway to the top-floor unit.

Jack was wearing his old jewel-thief getup, with the black knit cap pulled down to his eyes and a backpack slung over one shoulder. I didn’t have a cap, but I had a hoodie beneath my tight jacket, and my hair was wound up in a plaited chignon above my neck.

“Is that you?” I asked in a stage whisper, joy pinging inside my chest.

“Come here if you want to find out.” Jack pulled me into the shadow and then against his chest, grinning as he kissed me quickly—first on the mouth and then, when I hugged him, on my neck, right below my jaw. And, whoa. Major shivers.

I held him tightly, as if I could absorb all his goodness. He felt safe and warm and exciting, and I had trouble letting go of him.

“Mmm.” His low voice burred against my skin in the most thrilling way. “This is already way more fun than usual. I should’ve hired a getaway girl a long time ago.”

“Does that mean I’m getting paid?”

“Depends on what you’ll take for payment.”