Catherine laughs, brittle and sharp. “But you failed to keep your distance, apparently.”
Tara’s hand covers mine on her thigh, squeezing. “We’re adults,” she says in a firm tone. “This isn’t some forbidden thing. We’re just people who care about each other.”
Catherine is quiet for a long time. Then, in a voice so soft I almost miss it: “Are you happy, the both of you?”
Tara nods. “I am, definitely.”
That should be enough, but I know it isn’t. My mom looks up again, sharp and focused. “Do you want children?”
I blink, thrown. Do we? I have no idea because we haven’t talked about it. But suddenly, I get a visual of my beautiful stepsister, smiling at me with a big tummy. My child is in her, and a rush of possession sweeps through my veins so strong and heady that I literally feel disoriented. I can’t speak, but fortunately, Tara answers for both of us.
“Yes, someday. If it happens, it happens.”
Catherine nods, her eyes flickering. “You’re not genetically related, so that’s less of a concern than I feared.”
Robert lets out a bark of laughter—dry, brittle. “God, you two. What a pair.”
He doesn’t sound angry now. Just tired.
The waiter appears, ready to take dinner orders, but everyone ignores him.
Robert pushes his bourbon away. “Does your mother know?” he demands.
Tara shakes her head. “I’ll tell Nancy soon. But I wanted to tell you first.”
The older man sits back, crossing his arms. For a moment, I think he’s going to explode. Instead, he sighs—a long, broken sound. “I want you to be happy, sweetheart. I just never imagined it would be like this, with your stepbrother.”
Tara’s voice is gentle. “Me neither. But I’m happy with Hunter, and that’s that.”
I let the silence stretch, then raise my glass. “I know this has been a shock, but I hope you accept us one day. Maybe not tonight. But one day. So I want to toast to potential new beginnings.”
Catherine raises hers, just barely. Tara clinks with me, eyes shining. Robert reluctantly does as well, although I can see that Tara’s dad is obviously not thrilled with this development at all.
We drink, and for the first time all night, I feel a bit calmer. We’re over the worst part, and now need to survive the rest of this meal.
The waiter returns with his notepad in hand, and Catherine regains her composure enough to ask if the chef is still doing the truffle risotto.
Tara smiles at me slightly, and I squeeze her thigh below the table.
There will be fallout. There will be gossip and judgment and maybe even tears. But for now, we’re together, and the world hasn’t ended.
The main courseis an exercise in theater. Plates arrive—rare steak for my father, salmon for my mother, a complex vegetarian thing for Tara. I don’t remember what I ordered, and when the plate lands in front of me, I stare at it like I’ve never seen surf and turf before.
The conversation turns mechanical, small talk about Minneapolis weather, the recent renovation at the Guthrie, developments at my company, Justify AI. Yet my mother keeps circling back, like a bloodhound. She’s not angry. She’s probing for the details I won’t give.
She asks about the amnesia again, and Tara gives her a polished answer: “It was like waking up from a dream where you forgot your name. Hunter helped me remember.”
I nod, eyes on my plate. Every time my mother glances at me, the hairs on my neck go up. Catherine’s searching for the real story—what happened between us, the before and the after. But I won’t answer. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss, and I definitely don’t think our parents need to know details in this case.
But I watch Tara with increasing pride. She fields every question with a new sort of grace—confident, but never brittle. She’s better at this than I am, and I love her for it, even as I wonder when the next hammer will fall.
Halfway through the meal, Robert sets down his fork and asks, “Is this permanent?”
The room goes still.
Tara doesn’t flinch. “We’re taking it one day at a time. But yes, that’s our plan.”
Catherine pushes a pea around her plate. “If you’re happy, we’ll support you,” she says. “Again, you’re not biologically related, so at least we have that. Plus, the world is strange, so families can be, too.”
