“My husband,” he said proudly.
“No kidding? You think he’d be okay with a third tonight?”
“I know he would, sweetheart. Come with me.”
Several hours later when I found my way home significantly more relaxed and retrieved my forgotten cell phone from behind the reception counter of the shop, I noticed a missed call and voice mail. It was an attorney from a long-forgotten lake town in Texas named Hobie, calling with a message that Adriana Salerno had died, leaving me sole custody of her baby daughter.
My stomach turned over violently, almost causing me to vomit all over the newly swept floor of the tattoo parlor. I hadn’t seen Adriana in what seemed like a million years but was really just fifteen. Since I’d left Hobie for good and sworn I’d never look back.
Oh god.
I replayed the message to see if I’d heard the name correctly. Sure enough, the message said Adriana Salerno.
My sister.
Chapter 2
West
If there was one thing I wasn’t expecting to see in the small Catholic church in my quaint little hometown, it was some crazy-ass, purple-and-blue-haired dude covered in tattoos and piercings. I wondered how the hell he’d transported from the London punk era to modern-day, small-town Texas. Adriana Salerno, for whom we’d all gathered, hadn’t ever left the Lone Star state. At least that’s what she’d told me during one of those long hours she’d been in labor with Pippa. So how the hell would she have ever met a strange character like that?
Maybe he was in the wrong place. Perhaps he was just passing through town on his way to an emo seminar and decided to stop in and light a candle for the loss of his ability to blend in.
I forced myself to look away. He was too far toward the back of the church for me to pick out any details besides the ink and hair color, so I tried to focus back on the casket at the front.
Adriana.
Hands down the closest friend I’d had in years besides my siblings. I still couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around her sudden death.
I looked across the group of townspeople gathered in the church and thought about how many of us had loved her. From her regulars at the bakery to the ladies at my practice who looked forward to her visits and the kids who took her volunteer art classes at the community center. Everyone recognized what a warmhearted young woman she’d become—how cheerful she was and the fact that she’d give you the shirt off her back if you needed it.
And now she was in that fucking box.
She hadn’t always been that kind soul. Years before, she’d gone through some bad shit and chosen a rough road. But as soon as she’d gotten out of high school and had to rely on herself, things had started to change. This final year, the one in which she’d gotten pregnant, had solidified the changes in her for the whole town to see. She’d done it for Pippa.
The tiny bundle in my arms squirmed and squeaked. I looked down at the perfect little face beginning to come out of the comfort of slumber, and I quickly reached into the backpack at my feet to find the bottle I’d prepared before heading to the service. I tried desperately to get the formula into the baby’s mouth in time, but I wasn’t quick enough.
A lusty wail flooded the tiny church building like the very personification of my own heartbreak. Frantic, hungry cries bounced off the walls and shocked the congregation into silence. My hands shook as I tried my hardest to shove the bottle into her little mouth before I dared lose my control and join her in her sobs. A crashing sound came from somewhere in the back of the church, but I could only focus on what was in front of me in order to keep from losing my shit.
Even though I was a family physician who’d worked miracles in the past, I wasn’t able to fix this child. To make it better for her. To take her pain away. To go back in time and save her mother. All I could do was feed her and hold her close.
I couldn’t tell the little bundle in my arms that her mama was coming back for her, because her mama was gone. Adriana, my strong, beautiful friend, had left forever.
And Pippa was all alone.
Once she had grabbed a few strong pulls from the nipple, she settled into a softer rhythm of suckling interspersed with little breathing sounds. When the short service was over, I passed the baby over to the woman next to me. Goldie was one of the senior nurses at my practice and had been able to get temporary custody of Pippa through her work as a foster parent. I’d given her paid leave as long as she needed it to take care of the four-month-old.