Mom answers on the first ring. “How funny,” she drawls without even a hello. “I was just thinking of you.” Her tone is flat, like she knows exactly why I’m calling. She probably expected Pete to warn me.
“Hi, Mom.”
“You’ll never believe who just called me.”
“The Publisher’s Clearing House?” I gasp. “Did you and Dad finally win? Oh, thank God. I can quit my job!”
“How’d you know?” she says in mock surprise. “Did James tell you? That rascal. I told him to keep it quiet!”
We both chuckle. It’s an ongoing joke in our family that one of us will end up winning the grand prize, even though none of us participate.
“No, your uncle Pete called, and he said some things. About you.”
“Really? Nine years and he wanted to talk about me? That’s strange.”
Mom hums, like she knows that I know exactly where this is going.
I sigh and lean back on the bench. “Okay! Fine! Yes, I’m seeing someone. His name is Jordan.”
I can practically hear her smile. “And?”
I glance at the clock. One minute already gone.
“I only have a few minutes,” I warn. “My lunch break is almost over, and I’ve got post-op meds and—”
“Then give me the trailer version,” she says. “Save the feature film for later.”
Of course she’s not going to let me out of this.
I grin anyway. Any chance to talk about Jordan is a good thing. “Okay. Um… Things you need to know about my boyfriend,” I murmur. “Jordan’s sweet. Like, really sweet. But he doesn’t let everyone see it, you know? He plays it off like he doesn’t care what people think about him, but he really does care. Deeply. And he cares about others a lot more than he tries to show too, butespeciallythose he is close to. He’s funny and kind. He listens in a way that makes me feel like I’m the only one in the room. Oh! And he writes. Dad will like that. Jordan writes sci-fi novels and poetry. I haven’t read his novels yet, but his poetry…” I make a swooning sound. “It’s beautiful, Mom. Like, cry my eyes out beautiful.”
“Artsyandromantic,” Mom teases. “Forget Publisher’s Clearing House. You already won the lottery.”
My smile widens. “I know. He’s just… He’s one of the good ones,” I say, a little dreamily. Gabby Barrett’s song suddenly plays in my head, making me sway in my seat.
Ice clinks in the background, and I imagine Mom sitting in her favorite corner seat at the whitewashed table, drinking her favorite iced tea out of her favorite glass. She could drink that stuff no matter what time of day or season. The picture is so vivid I can almost smell the flowers she’d have on the table.
Some things never change.
“You really like him,” Mom says softly.
My heart skips a beat.It’s way more than like.“I do.”
“And what about him? Does he feel the same?”
“He does. It’s serious between us. He’s in San Diego, though, so we’re trying to figure that out. But we’ll get it. It’ll just take time.”
She hums again, almost dreamily. Like she couldn’t be happier for me. “All those years of dreaming for a guy who was willing to do long distance, and you finally found one. Oh, honey. My heart could burst. How’d you meet?”
“Online, actually. But that’s a story for another day. Actually, can I ask you something really quick? And then I have to go.”
“Of course.”
I’m not sure where this question is coming from, but now I have a burning desire to know. “Did you and Dad… Have you guys ever resented me for taking my job? For leaving Michigan, I mean.”
Mom’s gasp gives her away. “Miles, why would you ever think that?”
I run a finger along a groove in the table. “I’ve been thinking about Pete, you know. All those things you said about him after he left. And it just—”
