Page 78 of This Could Be Us

“He’s on the internet all the time now. Mostly Facebook, and he found this lady who has a recipe and a life hack for everything. She’s in Atlanta, I think.”

It could be anyone. Atlanta’s a huge city, and the internet makes the possibilities infinite, but something makes me ask, “What’s her name?”

“That Puerto Rican lady, Soledad something,” Mama mutters, brow furrowing, possibly with the effort to recall more. “Pretty. Smart. Your dad loves to watch her.”

“Must run in the family,” I mumble.

“All I know is I came home and one of her recipes was in that Crock-Pot and he wasn’t askingmefor nothing. I approve. She’s great.”

“She is. I, um, know her. I mean, like in real life.”

“How so?” Curiosity spikes in Mama’s eyes.

“Remember that huge embezzlement case I worked on at CalPot?”

“Yeah.”

“Her husband was the thief.”

“You sent her husband to jail?” Mama whistles. “Bet she can’t stand the sight of you.”

“Actually”—I suppress a grin—“I think she likes me a lot. Almost as much as I like her.”

It’s so quiet, the hum of the refrigerator is the only sound for a few seconds.

“Do you meanlike?” Mama’s eyes saucer. “Youlikeher? Shelikesyou?”

My almost-grin drops into a scowl. “You don’t have to sound so shocked that she would like me. Wow.”

“You’ve been divorced almost four years, Judah, and, as far as I know, have never shown much interest in anyone besides your boys and your laptop, so forgive me if I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Not like we’re in a relationship or anything,” I admit… reluctantly.

“Well, no, because your daddy told me she’s not dating. Got that whole hashtag datemyself thing going on.”

“You know about that?”

“Is she dating you?” Mama frowns. “Now that just don’t seem right to have all these girls running around here dating themselves when she dating you.”

“We’re not dating.”

“But I thought you said youlikedherlikedher.”

“I do.”

“And she likes you?”

Don’t stop.

Soledad’s parting words have haunted me ever since she spoke them, had me tossing in my sleep, playing on repeat in my head. I’ve taken those two words as something to hold on to until I can hold on to her.

“Yeah, I think she likes me, but she’s self-partnering.”

“Lord, if these girls don’t be making stuff up.”

“It’s not made up, Ma. Her divorce wasn’t that long ago. She wants to heal and make sure she’s ready for…”

Me.