Cynda and the City Doctor - Theodora Taylor Page 0,52

back at him as we go.

That’s new, I think, even as I answer August, “We won’t be back.”

It’s a long, awkward drive home.

“You’re grounded,” I inform her as soon as we walk in the door.

E just nods. Then goes to her room and returns with her phone which she hands to me without even having to be asked for it.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice little more than a whisper. “I...I shouldn’t have done that.”

And that takes the self-righteous wind right out of my sails. “E, is everything okay?” I find myself asking. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she answers quickly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I scrunch my brow. Not liking that I can’t read her right now. “E…”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” This time she screams the words at the top of her lungs. Before turning and rushing up the stairs.

I let out a sigh and debate following her. But she doesn’t have access to phones or TV. Eventually, she’ll get bored and come downstairs I decide.

Then I look from the stairs to the door at the back of the kitchen.

I can see the back house through its window pane. And for a moment, something tugs at me. Urging me to go over there.

But to say what?

I’m moving to Pittsburgh at the end of the summer and like he said…he still hasn’t forgiven me. Even if I was good at intimate relationships, it’s not like we have any kind of future.

We make even less sense than E and August Brandt.

In the end, I pull my suitcase up the stairs. And before dumping it out in my room, I place my biological mother’s second letter in the box unopened.

I’m no princess and Rhys is no prince. And that fantasy we were living in the back house? That’s done. Back to real life now, and it’s time to unpack.

Chapter Nineteen

Just as I suspected, the two weeks spent in the back house with Rhys are just a blip. Life returns to the way it should be. Rhys goes back to his practice and I go back to the taking care of the twins.

The good news is that I don’t have to worry about E violating any more stay-at-home orders sneaking out anymore. After her outburst, E not only stays in the house but throws herself into her homework with more focus than she ever has before. She also takes a sudden interest in cooking all our family dinners and anything I’m watching on TV.

We laugh our way through Never Have I Ever on Netflix, marveling at the California version of teenage life before the pandemic. Then we nod along with Sweet Magnolias, which features a small town and teenagers much more like the ones in Guadalajara. By the time we’re done binging that series, E says, “You know, I’m going to miss Guadalajara.”

I nod, understanding her lament. Here in Guadalajara we don’t all go to the same church and make nice with barely a whiff of racism. But there were a lot of things the series got right about life in a small town. It is nice to know nearly everyone who lives within a twenty-five-mile radius of our house. And no, we don’t get along all the time in Guadalajara, but people come together here to help each other out in ways they never did or would back when I was living in St. Louis.

The process of getting our house ready to sell has proven that. I went to high school with our realtor, Carrie Marie. And when she heard about my job loss, she pushed our house right on to the front of her priority list and worked with A to set up a virtual home tour.

Thanks to her, we were all set to go to market in just a few days. And with everyone around town spreading the word that we’re looking to sell to their family and friends, Carrie Marie thinks there’s a good chance we might move the house before it’s time for us to leave for Pittsburgh in late August.

So other than losing my job, everything is technically going as planned. Which is great. So great…

I’m sure the funny ache I get when I think about leaving Guadalajara again will go away soon.

Along with the bittersweet sadness that hits me whenever I think about the hypothetical pregnancy that never happened. Had he really been upset about my not being pregnant or had all that “my baby” stuff been about him trying