33. Reed

Chapter thirty-three

Reed

Amanda’s house constantly looks like a tornado has blown through it. She cleans every day, sometimes twice a day, but her kids are no match for her. Brooke and Janie tear down the hallway, chasing after each other, when I lunge forward and swoop them both up in my arms. They squeal and giggle, and we all collapse in a heap on the floor.

“You’re great with them,” Amanda notes as I bury Janie under another round of tickles. “How about you play mom today? I’ll go get a massage.”

“Wait!” Janie yells amongst her giggles, and I let her up. “Brooke took my tablet because hers ran out of battery!”

I pull a face at Amanda. “Nope. Sounds like a you problem.” I know my boundaries as a fun uncle. If I want to keep my fantastic relationship with Amanda, parenting is not my turf.

I squeeze past Amanda and into the guest room, letting her discipline her kids in peace. I slump to the floor with my laptop, checking my phone for the millionth time. There are hundreds of notifications, but none of them bear her name.

Nine days since I left Portland, and Petra hasn’t texted me back. Hasn’t called. The recording should’ve gotten an instant reaction, but it didn’t, and I’m trying not to push.

I held off on texting for as long as I could, but it’s a daily struggle to grant her space. I pushed her boundaries before, and it was exactly what she needed.

Maybe she needs time, which is what I should be taking. It’s hard to do when I don’t want to miss a moment with her. I’m ready for months to have gone by with her by my side. Ready for people to get off my back about whether it will last.

If she’s as broken up about this as me right now, it’s gonna last.

I shoot off a quick text, aiming for flirtation, but desperation clings on at the end.

Got a brand new bag of puppy chow this morning, and I’m thinking of you. Call me. Text me. Beep me. I’m not picky.

“Have you thought about putting on some daytime clothes?” Amanda grimaces from the doorway. “You know, I love having you here, Reed.”

“Sounds like a ‘but’ coming.”

“ But I let you retreat into your moping cave for long enough.” She sinks down to the floor next to me with a coffee as a peace offering. “If she’s not responding, then maybe the sparks weren’t there on her side.”

I considered that, or whether the thumb drive scared her off. But doubt only creeps within the shadows of her absence. I’ve seen the truth. “She’s scared of getting hurt. If you’d seen her before me—seen the way she came alive over a few days. With a little care, she bloomed.”

“You’re not blooming, you’re brooding. How’s therapy going?”

I shrug. “We’re working through some important things. He thinks Petra was a great catalyst for me to get my act together. I’m done running, Amanda.”

“That’s amazing. But she can’t be the only reason you’re moving forward,” Amanda retorts. I grimace, and she places a warm hand on my arm. “Just…work on your own life. Then, if you still want Petra, I’ll be on board.”

“They don’t go hand in hand,” I argue. “I’m still going to want her.”

“Prove it to me. Go for a walk in town, book a gig. Find a place to live. Something. ”

I bite my tongue. Amanda has no idea that I’ve already put an offer in on the house in San Diego, without any intent to leave Petra behind. Amanda also has no idea that I’ve been staying up until four in the morning to work. I’ve been recording radio commercials for prescription medications, and narrating a young adult fantasy novel. I hadn’t seriously considered narration before Petra, but it’s a blast. I can’t record anything here during the day with all the fighting, stomping, and giggling going on, or I would immerse myself in it.

“I’m working on housing.” A half truth. “I definitely need a studio again.”

“You need to decide where you want to be. And don’t factor Petra into the equation.” I open my mouth, ready to spill the beans, but one of the girls cries out in the other room. Amanda sighs, pats my arm, and heaves herself off the floor. “Any chance you’d take one or both of the girls with you?”

“Dibs on Janie,” I declare, but the question reminds me of Petra and the baby she lost. Natalia would be eight by now, and judging by the entire Diamante family, she’d look just like her mother. The image sends a pang through me, though she wasn’t my child to lose.

I search through the Portland listings again. Each time I’ve combed through them, the ones in my budget are too cold, tiny, or outdated. But today, buried near the bottom of a page, is a new listing for a comfortably sized house. It’s light and whimsical. A few bedrooms, a large dining space, a modest backyard, and huge windows overlooking the river. It’s got a small-town feel, but is only fifteen minutes from the heart of the city, and it’s a steal.

It’s meant for me. For us.

I dial the number on the listing, heart pounding. I’ve never moved on anything this fast in my life. “Hi, I’m Reed Alexander, calling about the house on Rosewood Court. Is it still available? Are there any offers being considered yet? Perfect. Yes, I’m interested. My realtor will be in touch shortly about an inspection and next steps. Great, thanks. ”

I hang up, and the ball of nervous energy I’ve been carrying around spreads throughout my system. I’m buzzing, but with exhilaration. I’ll have a new home, in a city that calls to me. I’ll start fresh there. I’ll make new friends, and fly Amanda out twice a year, like I promised. And if everything goes the way I want it to, I’ll take Petra out on as many dates as she needs for her to see what I do—that we would be incredible together.

I call Isaac and explain how I want to move forward. He puts together a letter of interest, contingent on an inspection and a rental period until escrow closes.

It’s the last puzzle piece sliding into place. My sluggishness from being bogged down with uncertainty and indecision floats away and disappears. I shower and emerge from my ‘moping cave,’ as a new person.

“Done with hibernation?” Amanda asks as I settle in next to her and the kids on the sofa. Janie’s head bounces to the song in the movie they’re watching, and my heart melts.

“Yeah. I made a choice.”

“Good.” Amanda smiles and ruffles my hair. “Time to make another one. You haven’t spent any time with Mom since you got back.”

“I know.” I call Mom, who immediately declares we’re going to lunch, just the two of us. An hour later, I park in front of a brightly painted display window of the diner, and she’s waiting for me.

“Reed,” she greets, opening her arms wide, dark blue eyes sparkling. Her short, honey-blonde hair catches the light as she moves. “You look good. Healthy.”

“Hi, Mom.” I squeeze her and kiss the top of her head. She smells the same as she always has, like home and warmth. The Pie Chart was our favorite spot to spend time together while she and Dad were going through their divorce. She always wanted us to feel special, and if that meant a slice of cherry pie at the end of a long day, she made it happen. “You do too. I’ve missed you. ”

“I’ve been right here this whole time,” she reminds me as we slide into a bright red booth. The place is clean, but retro, and is exactly the same as when I was ten.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been by, Mom—”

She pins me with a look. “Amanda told me you’re too busy being lovesick over a stranger to leave the house.”

I wince, sipping my water to stall her interrogation. “Petra is only a stranger when you measure by time.”

Mom rubs her forehead like she’s got a headache coming on. “That’s usually how people measure relationships. Time.”

“Maybe they shouldn’t. Nine years living with someone who doesn’t understand you and it’s considered a long-term relationship? Or a person you thought you knew drags you through absolute hell, yet we should get engaged because it’s been several months? What kind of measurements are those?”

Mom has the decency to wince. “Normal ones. Reed, I know how headstrong you can be, and how sensitive you are. But your examples are not the norm. You don’t know this woman. Sometimes fierce connections burn hot and fast, leaving nothing but ash.”

I hold back my argument, because I won’t walk away from the woman who brought me back to myself. Who makes me laugh, sends my pulse racing, and has forest eyes that I drown in each time she looks at me.

Romeo and Juliet couldn’t get over each other either. They met, married, and died in less than a week. I used to think that was shit, but now it’s easy to see how they could get swept up and behave irrationally. Even Titanic took place over four days, and the movie was hailed as the greatest love in a century.

“Maybe,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean Petra and I can’t date. Take it slow.”

“Of course, no one is saying that.” Mom smiles, relief spreading over her face. It lightens stress lines around her mouth. Little wrinkles that my choices put there. “Taking it slow is perfect. Now, what about the rest of it? Move in with me for a while. You can stay in your old room, get back on your feet, and save up again.”

“Actually, you’re the first to know—I put together an offer on a house in Portland. It’s a ridiculously low price.”

“You what? I—you— Reed . Couldn’t you move somewhere closer?” Mom sits back, white with surprise. “What happened to taking it slow?”

“Petra and I can take it slow better when I’m only an hour away. Plus, it’s a nonstop flight from Des Moines,” I offer with a wink. “Less than four hours.”

Mom sighs, her eyes flitting across the table like she’s arguing with herself.

“Honestly, I thought you were going to yell at me,” I admit, and Mom glares at me. I give her an apologetic version of a smile, trying not to poke the bear. “Want to tell me why you’re not?”

“I should. I want to. In fact, I want you to take back the offer on the house and live with me. I want you to stop pining over a woman you knew for a few days.” She leans forward and pokes me firmly in the shoulder with one, bony finger. “I want you to get a job where women don’t assume they know you because you’re a voice on the internet!”

“Mom—”

She deflates, pinching her nose. “But most of all, I want you to be happy. And that means putting all my wants for you aside and letting you choose your own life.”

“Wow, Mom…” It’s not remotely what I expected. “Is that years of family and marriage counseling talking?”

“Be grateful I had it,” she warns, “or this would be an entirely different conversation. What is it about Portland, Reed? Please tell me it’s more than Petra.”

“It is. I promise. It’s got the hustle and pocket neighborhoods of LA, plus all the charm of a weird, little community. It’s art and being outdoors. Knowing your neighbors. I don’t know that I would’ve considered the city before I visited, but I would’ve missed out. ”

“It sounds nice. Maybe you could rent there for a while? Try it out?”

I nod. “Exactly. Renting the house until escrow closes is a contingency on my offer.”

“Oh, Reed. I wish I drank,” she mutters. “Could you at least do a background check on her?”

While I know where she’s coming from, it sits in my gut like a foul-tasting brick. “Let’s see if Petra even texts me back and go from there.”

Mom sits up tall, slamming her open palm on the table with a harsh thwack. “You bought a house for a girl who isn’t talking to you? Forget it, Reed, I’m yelling! What the hell are you thinking—”

“This should be good news for you,” I say with a grin. “It means I’m not doing it for a woman.”

“You’re going to give me a heart attack, Reed Josiah Alexander!”

I sink into my seat as the other patrons shoot us concerned looks.

She doesn’t mean it, not really. I’ve overloaded her—given her too much truth at once. I should’ve dipped my toe into the water, kept the house a secret. Jumping in headfirst with Petra has me jumping in headfirst with everyone else, but it emphasizes the difference.

Petra jumped with me.

“What happened to letting me choose my happiness?” I ask.

Mom is quiet for a full minute. “You convinced Amanda that Petra is different. I guess that’s going to have to be enough for me. You always knew what you wanted, Reed, and you worked hard to get it. Moved to California, started your own company. If you know you want to be in Portland, I’m not going to stop you. If you’re falling in love with Petra, I can’t stop you.”

Her lip quivers, and I reach for her hand in reassurance. “If it makes you feel better, I can’t stop me, either.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head with a laugh that breaks my heart, because she doesn’t find any of this funny. “ Just be safe, please. Keep your eyes open to her faults instead of blinding yourself to them.”

“I can do that. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice, Mom. I won’t ever put us all in danger like that again. I promise.” Mom and I have weathered worse storms together, and I need her support. I wouldn’t have made it through autumn without her and Amanda by my side. “But I don’t know that I can slow down for you.”

Mom laughs again, wiping at her tears. “I don’t know why I asked—you don’t have a slow bone in your body.”