Page 65 of Everything We Found

“Come inside and eat a goddamn sandwich. I made lunch and it’s fixin’ to spoil. I doubt she’s going anywhere or she would have left already. You can talk when you’ve both cooled off. Christ, don’t make me throw a bucket of water on you two like dogs in heat.”

With one last agonized look at Nadia, Thomas turned and stormed up the porch steps, the screen door smacking shut behind him.

“Take all the time you need, Nadia.” Cammy waved and returned to the house.

Nadia deflated, her forehead dropping to rest on the steering wheel. She squeezed her eyes shut as hot tears pricked at the corners. She could go. Right now. Turn the key, shift into drive. Head home. Never look back.

Pretend that she was safe.

Leave him before he left her.

But Cammy had guessed correctly. Nadia wasn’t going to leave. Though she wasn’t staying because she was scared, or even because of the undeniable pull she felt toward Thomas. Rather, it was something deeper that kept her here—a recognition that true freedom didn’t come from running away. It came from choosing to stay when she had every opportunity to leave. Even when staying meant giving everything up—her name, her identity, her friends and family. Her life.

What was it her mom once said to her about staying?

The past flickered into focus as Nadia considered her mom’s advice. She’d been twenty-two when she first heard it, fresh out of college and newly employed at an architecture firm. One evening, she’d come home after work, entering the house to announce, “I’m home!”

She kicked off her heels, dropped the car keys on the little round table near the door, and hung her purse and blazer on the coat rack. She loved her new job as a junior architect, but she was exhausted. She forgot she’d been scheduled to spend the day on a job site with her boss. They’d just broken ground and she’d worn heels. Next time she’d have a spare pair of sneakers in her car for such an occasion.

“Mom?” She headed up the hallway. “You home?” Her car was in the driveway.

“In here,” Lisa called from her bedroom.

Nadia nudged open the door and her breath hitched with a soft gasp. Lisa stood before the full length mirror in a black cocktail dress decorated with sparkling rhinestones. “Wow.” She stepped back to take in the full vision of her mom. Her auburn hair in an updo, loose curls teasing her nape. Thickly mascaraed eyelashes and vibrantly painted lips. Everything about her glittered. Her dress, her hair, her shoes, her entire demeanor.

Lisa twirled. There were cutouts in the back. “What do you think?”

“You look beautiful. What’s the occasion?”

“I’m going out to dinner with some co-workers to celebrate.” Lisa slipped her arms into a cropped black evening blazer, the sleeves and collar trimmed in velvet.

“Celebrate what?” Nadia snooped through her mom’s evening purse for Lisa’s lipstick. The red shade looked stunning on her. MAC Ruby Woo, Nadia read.

“It’s my tenth anniversary with Donato Enterprises, can you believe it?”

Had it really been ten years already? “No, I can’t.” Nadia had never forgotten how close they’d come to losing their house, or how scared she’d been Lisa would never come out of her depression. Her executive secretarial job saved their house, their family of two, and even put Nadia through college.

“To think it’s all because of Thomas. Here, give me that.” Lisa reached for the purse and lipstick.

Nadia gave her mom the items. “What do you mean?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head.

Lisa turned to the mirror and touched up her lipstick. “I thanked Edgar today for hiring me all those years ago. He told me I should be thanking Thomas.” She smacked her lips and looked at Nadia. “Color look okay? I’m wondering if it’s too dark for me.”

“Not even. It looks great on you.” Nadia wanted to buy the shade for herself. She moved closer to Lisa with a low-level hum of worry buzzing. “Why did he say you should thank Thomas?”

“Apparently, he was the one who told Edgar I needed a job. I don’t know how Thomas knew, but he’s also the one who asked Edgar to help with the mortgage. How that boy knew—he was what at the time, sixteen?”

“Seventeen.”

“Did you say something to him?” she asked with a note of dismay and a touch of what Nadia thought was embarrassment.

“I might have. Yes, probably,” she admitted. Nadia never told her mom about the year she’d met Thomas at Joe’s to study before he left for Stanford. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to anyone.”

Lisa closed the distance between them. She cupped Nadia’s cheeks to look her straight in the eyes. “Don’t be. Yes, I’m ashamed I wasn’t a good mother to you for a while there, and I’ll never forgive myself for allowing our situation to become so desperate.”

“Blame Dad. It wasn’t your fault.”

“He’s partially responsible, but I drove him away. I can see that now. But you, you stayed when I was at my worst. Sometimes, Nadia, the bravest choice isn’t about leaving, not like your father did. But in staying—eyes open, fully aware of theconsequences—and facing whatever comes next. You did that. You got us through.