Page 48 of For the Record
I squeezed my legs together. “So we really could do some of these?” I ran my finger down the list again. “Well, I mean, some of these are easy. Take more pictures, make pasta from scratch. I’ve done that. But I don’t see us going on a helicopter ride or feeding giraffes anytime soon.”
He shrugged before taking a bite of his food. Something with grilled chicken and egg whites, it looked like. “We could do the easy ones first and just go from there.”
I knew this marriage was only platonic, an agreement between friends who cared deeply for one another. That fact didn’t stop my heart from racing any less.
“You would really do that for me?”
“You think there is something out there I wouldn’t do for you?”
My smile crept up further, and I relaxed, knowing he was right. There was not a single thing Adam wouldn’t do for me. I could probably ask the guy for a kidney and he’d jump on the table.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket as I took another bite of doughnut, cinnamon and sugar coating my lips and fingers. I swallowed and wiped my hands on the nearest paper towel before reaching for the device to see who was calling.
It was ridiculous that my first thought every time was that something was wrong with Dad. It was like a looming cloud over my head. The fact that a rhythmic humming caused my heart rate to spike nearly every time was absurd. And inconvenient, considering 90 percent of the time, it was one of my friends or Adam. But still, my heart and reflexes couldn’t hold on to reason. They heard that buzzing and instantly thought He’s had a bad day. You’ll have to go up there and stop him from swinging on the nurses and cussing everyone out. It hurt each time, and it almost made me want to put the stupid thing on silent. But if I were to do that, then it would mean not knowing when they needed me, and that felt just as terrifying.
The screen had an unknown number. The area code wasn’t local, but I knew a couple of the new employees at the complex had come from out of state, and I wasn’t willing to risk anything.
I held up a finger to Adam. “Let me see if this is for Dad.”
He dipped his chin in a nod and reached for his own breakfast that looked absolutely glorious. I would, without a doubt, steal a bite of it later when he wasn’t looking.
“This is Rachel.”
“Ugh, finally.” My blood ran cold, goose bumps forming along my arms. “I had to call you from Stephen’s number since every time I called, it would go straight to voicemail.”
Because I had blocked her. Because she was scum of the earth. A lying traitor that I didn’t want near my phone. Because she was my mother.
My body was frozen, mouth dropped down and eyes stuck on the balled-up napkin beside my half-eaten doughnut. Why was she calling? Why, why, why?
“Rachel, honey.” Adam’s low voice sounded across from me, and I could practically feel his concern wrapping around me like a warm blanket. “Who is it?” he whispered.
“Rachel? Are you still there?” Her shrill voice sent memories waving in my mind, only the ugly ones. The screaming ones. The throwing the record and packing her bags while I begged her on my knees not to leave us. I’m still young. I have a life to live, and I refuse to live it waiting on someone. She said it as if she was the nineteen-year-old and not a forty-five-year-old woman who had already lived an entire life putting herself first.
My fingers shook. A ball formed at the base of my throat, and I willed myself not to cry. Not for her. She didn’t deserve that satisfaction.
“I’m here,” I muttered, finally looking up at Adam, who had his brows creased together and his lips pursed. He pointed to the phone and mouthed, “Speaker.”I nodded and followed his instructions before asking her. “Why are you calling me, Mom?” Just calling her that felt wrong.
“Well, like I said, I tried to yesterday—a few times—but your voicemail box must be full, because it didn’t let me even leave a message.” Again, because she was blocked.
“No, why are you calling me?” I clipped.
“I don’t know why you sound so short with me. I’m the one who deserves to be upset here.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adam toss his hands up to his hair and pull. “You went and got married? Without telling your own mother?”
My own mother. I wanted to scoff at how out of touch she was. It was like she’d left just last week and not so long ago that I’d had nearly eight birthdays come and go without so much as a hello.
“We eloped,” I explained, doing everything I could to level my voice. “It was last minute, and it was just us. I didn’t think to tell you.”
“Are you pregnant?” she spat out.
Adam stood and took a step toward me and held his palms out, flexing his fingers, wanting me to hand him my phone. That would end in an absolute dumpster fire. I shook my head.
“If I am?” I asked, testing. I hated that this woman was my one weakness. The one person I couldn’t stand up to and fight.
“Then I would suggest you sort your life out before you become a mother. Who even is this guy? I had to log into Stephen’s Facebook to find his account. He is covered in tattoos and has a giant scar on his eyebrow. What were you thinking? I thought maybe you had grown up enough to not be so foolish, but I was wrong, wasn’t I?”
I couldn’t even process that enough to ask who the heck Stephen was. My immediate response was to defend Adam, to tell her that any preconceived notions she had about my best friend—my husband—were wrong. That she wished she was half the person he was. That Adam Wells was loyal, protective, and passionate in a way that she, as a parent, had never once been. But I was frozen. Because that was what she did to me, what she always did to me. My Achilles’ heel.
Adam’s face slowly turned beet red. He ground down on his teeth and reached for the phone again, but I yanked it away and pressed mute.