She gave me a sad smile. “That’s between you and Waylay. I think maybe she could use an apology from you too. She’s with Liza tonight.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Naomi?”
She stopped at the door and looked back.
“Do you think if we would have carried on…I mean. If we hadn’t called it off, is it possible that you would have…” I couldn’t get the words out. They clogged my throat and closed it up.
“Yeah,” she said with a sad smile that had my insides churning.
“Yeah, what?” I pressed.
“I would have loved you.”
“How do you know?” I demanded, my voice a rasp.
“Because I already do, dummy.”
And with that, she walked out of my office.
FORTY-SIX
TINA SUCKS
Naomi
I went straight to the restroom to repair my face. Knox Morgan sure did a number on a woman’s makeup
. After I cleaned up the sad clown face and reapplied my lipstick, I gave my reflection a long, hard look.
The tiny shards of my broken heart were now ground into a fine dust thanks to Knox’s confession.
“No wonder,” I whispered to my reflection.
There were things a person never got over. We both just wanted someone to love us enough to make up for all the times we hadn’t been enough. It felt like such a waste that we could feel the way we did, but neither of us could be that person for the other.
I couldn’t make Knox love me enough, and the sooner I got over that, the better. Maybe someday we could be friends. If I won the custody hearing, and if Waylay and I decided to make Knockemout our permanent home.
Thinking of Waylay, I dug my phone out of my apron to check my messages. Earlier this week, I’d approved a messaging app for her laptop so she could text me if she needed to. In return, she’d downloaded a GIF keyboard on my phone so we could exchange GIFs throughout the day.
“Oh, great,” I groaned when I saw the dozen new texts.
Silver: Nice undies.
Max: This better mean you guys are making up!!!!
Mom: Six flame emojis.
Fi: We’re covering your tables so feel free to have as many orgasms in Knoxy’s office as you need.
Sloane: Lina just texted (along with nine other people at the bar). Did that son of a bitch really carry you off like he was a caveman? I hope you rearranged his face and his balls.
Waylay: Aunt Naomi, I’m in trouble.
The breath in my lungs froze when I read the last text. She’d sent it fifteen minutes ago. With shaking hands, I fired off a response as I rushed out of the restroom.
Me: Are you okay? What’s wrong?
There were a lot of reasons an eleven-year-old could think they were in trouble, I rationalized. It didn’t mean there was an actual emergency. Maybe she forgot her math homework. Maybe she accidentally broke Liza’s favorite garden cherub. Maybe she’d gotten her period.