“Juliette.”
It’s not a question. I stare at the ceiling, the lamp casting a soft halo of light I don’t need. “Hey, Mom.”
A beat. Then, gently, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
There it is. Mom radar. Fully operational across time zones.
“David.” I shift onto my side, tucking the blanket under my chin. “David and I talked today.”
Her inhale is slow and controlled. “Okay.”
“There’s more,” I continue, because once I start, it all comes spilling out. “He wants to come to Theo’s birthday. The one I told you about, at the hockey game.”
Another pause. I imagine her sitting in her chair in Chicago, hands wrapped around a mug, listening the way she always does—like nothing I say is too much.
“How do you feel about that?” she asks.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know. Torn. Guarded. Like I’m bracing for something that hasn’t happened yet.”
“That makes sense,” she says softly. “What does Theo want?”
I swallow. “He wants his dad there. Of course he does.”
“Of course,” she agrees. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, you’re going to the game because the hockey player—Sawyer—the one you were irritated about a few weeks ago has offered tickets for your son. Right?”
“Yes.”
A beat passes. Then, carefully, “I’m not sure what is going on with you and this guy, I only know what you’ve told me. However, I listen when Theo talks, too, which is why I feel like there’s more happening than some guy tasked to help your shop, at least at this point. Tell me I’m wrong?”
The question lands quietly between us.
And that’s where the conversation pauses—right on the edge of everything I don’t yet know how to answer.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling, the phone warm against my ear.
“I have to ask Sawyer about David coming to the game,” I say. The decision settles as soon as I speak it, like something clicking into place. “He’s the one arranging for us to use this box, so he needs to know David will be there.”
“That sounds fair,” my mom says. “Although, I can hear hesitation in your voice. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”
“I’m just starting to…” I trail off, searching for the right word. “Figure things out with Sawyer. Now, David shows up again, and it feels like—like I don’t even know what thisisyet, but I have to deal with it.”
“Whatever ‘it’ is?” she echoes.
“Yeah,” I manage to sigh, grateful for our mother-daughter shorthand.
She hums softly, a sign I know from experience is her way of encouraging me to keep going.
“Plus, the team could get into the playoffs, Mom,” I add. “I think Theo even said the game we’re going to is the one that decides if they get in. Sawyer needs to focus. I definitely don’t want to be a distraction that causes him to not do his hockey job.”
“Hockey job?” she laughs.
Her laugh makes me giggle. “What do you want from me? I like plants. They don’t talk back.”
There’s a pause on the line, thoughtful this time.
“Well,” she says slowly, “David’s being here for a visit shouldn’t cause too much undercurrent. Not yet, anyway. If history prevails, he’ll be gone a day or two after Theo’s birthday. He’s not a great track record for staying in one place for any amount of time, so I feel like you’re safe.”
“Yes,” I say. “That’s the part that keeps looping in my head.”
