I glance out the window. “It’s busy. She was probably held up in traffic.”
Beau nods. “Do you think this is where she lives now?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. The PI didn’t give me an address, and I didn’t ask for one.”
“You have a phone number?”
“Yes.”
“We could call or text to see if she’s on her way.”
“Give her time.”
Beau runs his hands over his face. “For the record, this isn’t me in lawyer mode.”
I squeeze his shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to keep it together, Beau.”
“Nor do you.”
I’m still going to try to. For Beau. For Mum if—when—she arrives. One of us has to be strong. I’ve tried to be Beau’s rock since we were ten and we watched Dad get escorted out of the house in handcuffs. I don’t intend on failing him now.
I press my hand to my chest and look out the window. My breath catches in my throat as I see a woman walking toward the coffee shop. She’s both familiar and a stranger. She looks older in person than in the photo the PI showed me. Her hair is salt and pepper, and her complexion pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Didn’t she sleep last night? Did she lie awake worrying about today, just like I did?
She catches sight of us through the window and stops. She doesn’t smile, and for a dizzying moment, I’m sure she’s going to turn around and walk away. Does she recognise us? She’s staring right at us. Then again, we’re the only twins in the coffee shop. It’s a safe bet we’re her sons.
She takes a deep breath and then strides inside and walks right up to our table. Her hands shake as she clasps them together.
“Stefan? Beau?”
We nod and stand. It’s awkward. I don’t know what to do. Shake her hand? Hug her? None of us moves.
“Coffee?” Beau asks eventually.
“I’ll get it.” Mum looks at our half-drunk drinks. “You take your coffee black?” She looks between us.
“Yes,” I reply. So much for no more coffee.
A smile briefly graces her lips. “So do I.” She turns and goes to queue up at the counter.
Beau sits. “That was…”
“Awkward?” I sit as well.
“Very.” He threads his fingers together and leans onto his thighs. His stare is fixed on Mum. “She looks different. Older.” He laughs at himself. “That’s a dumb thing to say, isn’t it? It’s been sixteen years. Of course, she’s older.”
“I think we’ve changed the most.”
Beau chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve put on a few pounds since I was thirteen.” He gives me the side-eye. “You stopped wearing colour.”
“And you became a total pain in my arse.”
“You love me, really.”
“Of course.” I rub the back of my neck. “Are you going to tell her about Fraser?”
Beau shrugs. “I don’t know. Are we here to catch her up on the biggest part of our lives or to listen to her explanation of why she abandoned us?”
I shrug. “Either? Both? I don’t know.”
