Page 246 of Homewrecker

From the living room, Klair yelled, “WHAT DID SHE SAY?”

I yelled back, “MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!”

“THAT MEANS IT WAS GOOD!” Janelle shouted, “READ IT!”

“No!”

Nash laughed against my hair. “You have crazy friends.”

I smiled. “I have friends.”

I did. I had friends, family, a business that was stronger than it had ever been, a therapist who still charged entirely too fucking much, a child running through my house who wasn’t mine, but I loved, who had slowly made space for me in his life, and a man standing beside me who I loved, too.

We hadn’t rushed anything. There was no engagement yet, no pregnancy, and no countdown to some predetermined happily ever after. I didn’t need one.

For years, I had treated milestones like proof. Ring meant chosen. Marriage meant worthy. Baby meant family. A man coming home meant love. I didn’t need proof anymore. I had peace and that felt better.

“Blair!” Nash yelled from the hallway later.

“What?”

“Where are the scissors?”

I closed my eyes. “Where they always are!”

“That does not help!”

“Second drawer!”

“There are six second drawers!”

“THEN START OPENING SHIT!”

Klair screamed laughing from the living room.

I laughed and looked around at our house. There had been a time when that word meant something entirely different to me. I thought home had been where a man slept, where he kept clothes, and where he came back to after spending time somewhere else. I had grown up watching my mother find pride in being the woman Daddy came home to.

Home was truth.

Home was peace.

Home was disagreement without deception.

Home was knowing that if something became broken, both people could look directly at the crack instead of finding someone else to hide inside.

Home was laughter coming from the next room.

Lego art I wanted to throw away.

Three different kinds of wine in the refrigerator.

Eli’s shoes were always in a spot where I could trip over them.

Friends who showed up.

Family who told the truth even when it hurt.

A mother who taught me that the names other people gave you didn’t have to become the ones you answered to.