Page 58 of Passing Notes

“That all sounds like heaven to me.” A ripple of excitement shot through me even though what we were doing was normal, mundane even.

The fact that she was here with me and the kids gave me hope.

Our past had been encroaching less and less into our present interactions and I couldn’t help but feel like we were now on the path to starting a future together.

I found the ingredients for a quick pasta and salad.

She set the table and we shared a bottle of wine while I cooked.

Dinner was full of talk about school and Green Valley’s upcoming Fall Festival. Sasha was doing better. She was comfortable and relaxed, and I was thankful Clara was here to help me.

CHAPTER 18

NICK

One day, Clara, we’ll leave this place and have it all. In the open. Where no one can hurt us. - Nick

It was bedtime. Clara and I were in the kitchen listening as the kids moved around upstairs getting ready for bed.

“Stay for a drink?” I asked after the kids had gone silent. She didn’t answer, but her face spoke for her.

I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. Having her close like this, in my house, made my senses spin. I wanted more than I could have right now, and it was frustrating.

“They won’t get up? What about Sasha? It’s her first time with her period. Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“If they get up, we’ll be in the living room. The neighbor thing seems to be a good cover. For now, anyway.”

“I’d love to stay for a bit. Tonight was nice.”

We headed into the living room to talk. I knew I couldn’t take her upstairs. She couldn’t stay the night with me, no matter how much I wanted her to. I needed more of a commitment from her and less uncertainty about our future before I brought it up to the kids.

Clara and I sat on opposite ends of the couch. “Do you mind if we talk about Sasha? I want to make sure I’m doing the right things for her. Morgan is out of town, but even if she wasn’t, I don’t relish the thought of talking about this with her.”

“I get it, and I think it’s wonderful you want to support your daughter. Sure, ask me anything. I don’t mind. I’m glad you’re so open about it and not grossed out. It will mean a lot to her.”

I slid my eyes to hers. “Any man grossed out by a period doesn’t deserve to call himself a man.”

“I mean, yeah.” She shrugged one shoulder up. “It’s a huge part of life.”

“Does she need chocolate? Is that a real thing? What about Midol?” I drove my hands into my hair and pressed my palms against my eyes. “God, Clara, she still wants Squishmallows for her birthday and she just got her period. I want to hug her and make her feel okay again. It was so much easier when she was little. What else should I do for her. Any ideas?”

“I know I said I’d help. But actually, I—I have no ideas, Nick. No one ever...” She shook her head and looked out into the dark outside my front window. “Uh, my sisters and I had to—like, our mother sat us down and explained it to us all at once. Just the one time. Willa was only six, she flipped out completely at the thought of bleeding.” Her gaze was faraway. “Anyway, Momma would buy a shitload of supplies every month and put them in the bathroom. We were okay,” she quickly added when she caught sight of my horrified look. “We figured it out. Well, mostly Sadie did because she was first, then she helped the rest of us.”

“Oh, baby. Come here.” I pulled her into my arms. “I’m so sorry.”

She was stiff in my arms. “What? I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you. You deserved better—you all did. I’m sorry your mom didn’t take the time to explain it all and ease any fears y’all had.”

“Oh my god, Nick.” She pulled out of my arms and leaned back. “You have to stop. You’re being far too sweet and understanding. It’s making it too hard to resist you.”

“Good, don’t resist me.” I pulled her back into my side and kissed her temple. “The last thing I want is resistance. What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say to you half the time.” She tucked her cheek in my chest to hide. “The closer we get, the more I get scared that I’ll lose you all over again. It’s irrational and stupid and I feel like an idiot, but I can’t make it stop.”

“You’re not an idiot?—”

“Thank you for saying that, but I’m being difficult, I know I am. I’ve heard it before, so many times, and I don’t mean to be this way?—”