PART 14
A year after everything happened, we moved.
Not because Loretta had ruined the apartment.
Because we wanted a place with different memories.
We bought a smaller house outside Charlotte.
Three bedrooms.
A backyard.
A kitchen with enormous windows.
Maya chose the yellow bedroom.
Danielle planted herbs near the patio.
I changed jobs.
Less travel.
Slightly less money.
Much more time.
My old self would have called that a sacrifice.
I no longer did.
On our first night, we ate pizza sitting on the floor.
No folding tables.
No guests.
No expensive dinner.
Just us.
Maya dropped cheese on the rug.
Then she froze.
I saw it instantly.
Her shoulders tightened.
She looked toward Danielle.
Then at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I put down my slice.
“For what?”
“The rug.”
I looked at the tiny piece of cheese.
Then I picked it up.
“That?”
She nodded.
I tossed it into the trash.
“Problem solved.”
Maya stared at me.
Then she laughed.
A real laugh.
Loud.
Careless.
The sound filled the room.
Danielle looked at me.
Her eyes were wet.
That laugh told us more about recovery than any court order ever could.
