“Zee.” I spare her a look long enough for her to know I’m serious. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And what’s up with that common-law wife of his?”

“She’s…they’re not married.” I give up, setting my phone on the table. “Since you’re not taking no for an answer, like you never do, what do you want to know?”

“I already asked you what I want to know. Number one. Are you fucking him? And number two, what about the woman he lives and has a child with?”

“Number one, yes,” I say defiantly. “I’m fucking the hell out of him. And number two, she let him go and she doesn’t get him back. Satisfied?”

Kayla’s lips twitch. “I think the question is are you satisfied? He putting it down?”

Flashes of Ezra pounding into me against the front door have me shifting in my seat, suppressing whimpers.

“I’m satisfied,” I understate.

“Then let’s head this fiasco with his mom off at the pass so you can focus on staying satisfied.” She smiles and gives me a rare squeeze. “And happy. I’d like to see you happy.”

I think about all the things I have to wade through before I can get to happy. This biography. The situation with Aiko. My damn ovaries.

I want to be your last.

The memory of Ezra’s words soften all the tense, tight parts of me. The road to happy looks long and rough right now, but he makes me want to try.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ezra

“Mom, we need to talk.”

“Ezra, hi. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Did you get my message last night?”

“Message? Where’d you leave it?”

“On the home phone. Your cell voicemail is full.”

“Oh, you know I never check either of those, honey.”

“That might explain why it’s full. My message said we need to speak urgently.”

“Is everything okay with Noah?” Concern spikes her voice an octave. “I checked in on him yesterday and—”

“The point of Noah gaining more independence at camp is to not check on him every day, Mom. I hope you haven’t been long-distance smothering.”

Because I’ve experienced that firsthand.

“Me? Smother? Of course not. He did happen to mention on one of our few calls that you don’t have any mezuzahs in the house.”

This turn of conversation has nothing to do with why I called or anything I’ve even considered. Ever. “Mezuzahs?”

“You grew up with them in our house, Ezra.”

“Of course I did, but—”

“And yet when I asked Noah if he had one hanging on his door, he said no.”

“Mom, how about you bring some with you when you bring Noah back and hang them on any door you see fit. Sound good?”

“Well, it’s your house, of course. It’s up to you.”

Is extreme patience a sport?