“I didn’t fail. I got a C-minus.”
“Same thing, in your mind.” She sets the bagels on my counter and turns to face me. “So. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Victoria.”
I hate when she uses my full name. It makes me feel twelve years old again, unable to lie under that steady maternal gaze.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad.” She pulls out a chair and sits. “I drove two hours. You’re going to talk about it.”
So I do. I tell her everything—Zayden, Maisie, the rumors, Dana’s ultimatum—and by the time I finish, my cheeks are wet and she’s holding both my hands across the table.
“So that’s it,” I say. “I either choose him and lose my career or choose my career and lose him. There’s no option where I get both.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Zayden said he’d talk to team leadership, that he’d... go to bat for me. The thought is both sweet and mortifying. I never wanted to bethatgirl. The one who caused a rift and needed a man to clean up her mess. The one people whispered about in the break room.
“Okay. So let me ask you something else.” My mom tilts her head. “This job—does it make you happy?”
“Of course it does.” I nod. “I’m good at it, and it makes me feel accomplished,” I say carefully. “Helping athletes.”
She nods, like it’s the answer she expected. “And Zayden? How does he make you feel?”
“Terrified,” I whisper. “Out of control. Like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.”
“That’s not all, though. Is it?”
“No.” I swallow hard. “He also makes me feel... seen. Like I don’t have to be perfect to be enough.”
“And Maisie?”
The mention of her name sends warmth through me. “She’s the sweetest little girl, Mom. And I want it. Not just kids in general, but that life. With them.”
“Then why are you running?”
“Because what if I ruin it? What if I give up everything and it still falls apart?”
My mom cups my face in her hands. “Victoria. Listen to me. You’ve spent your entire adult life building walls. After what happened with Jason, you decided you’d never let anyone have that kind of power over you again. But at some point, the walls that protect you become the prison that traps you.”
She wipes a tear from my cheek.
“This man isn’t trying to break down your walls. He’s standing outside them, knocking gently, asking if you might want to let him in.”
“What if I let him in and he hurts me?”
“He might. Love is a risk.” She says it simply. “But it’s also the greatest, most beautiful thing in the world.”
Her words unlock something inside me.
“I need to call him,” I say.
“Probably.” She stands, pressing a kiss to my head. “But first, shower. You smell like regret and dry shampoo.”
