Page 21 of Trial and Error

“Not really,” she replies as she opens the passenger door and gets out. “So, give me a run down. What are your parents’ names?”

“My mom is Helen and my stepdad is Patrick. My bio dad, Frank, is no longer in the picture and we don’t mention him. Ever,” I say as we ascend the stairs leading to the small porch. “My niece Olivia will also be here, and she’s obsessed with giving everyone tattoos at the moment, so I apologize if you go home covered in random swirls and stars.”

Bridget laughs softly. “How old is she?”

“Three,” I reply, reaching forward to open the front door, but pause.

I turn back to look at her and falter for a moment. Her blonde hair is tied back into a loose ponytail and she looks so pretty without her hair framing her round face. I wasn’t lying earlier when I said she looked good. The green pants she wears compliment her figure amazingly, clinging to all the right parts, and the cream tank top shows off her pale skin. Of course, I love the freckles that dust over her shoulders and down her arms.

She smiles, and that brings me back to the present. I hold out my hand and watch as she gently interlocks her fingers with mine and gives my hand a squeeze. I take that as my cue to open the door and lead us into the chaos that is about to swarm us.

As soon as the door closes, I hear my mom making her way toward us, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. She appears around the corner and regards the two of us with a warm smile. Her dark eyes crinkle at the edges as her smile deepens when she sees our hands joined together. A lot of people say we look alike, and the older I get, the more I notice the familiarities between the two of us—from the same dark hair to the same shaped nose.

“Bridget.” She beams, wiping her hands on her pink apron before wrapping them around her shoulders. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Her gaze bounces over to me briefly before it settles back on Bridget. “I was beginning to think you weren’t real.” Her laugh is airy, but I feel Bridget stiffen beside me and my shoulders go tense as Mom runs her hands down Bridget’s arms. “I’m Helen, but I’m sure you already know that.” She laughs again.

Bridget nods softly and takes her hand out of mine to reach into her bag. “These are for you,” she says to my mom as she pulls out a small box of pastries. “I hope you like them.”

I look down at her and frown. She must’ve got them from the cafe when I went to the washroom, but the sentiment brings a wave a joy I’m not expecting. My mom will appreciate the gesture, and I know I’m right when her eyes brighten as she takes them from Bridget.

“Oh, how wonderful!” She lifts the box to her nose and inhales. “These smell wonderful.” Mom looks at me and holds the box out. “Be a dear and put these in the kitchen for me, sweetheart.” She looks back to Bridget. “You can come with me.”

I don’t get a chance to jump in as Mom practically drags Bridget with her to the living room. Bridget looks at me over her shoulder with panic in her eyes, and I fight the urge to chuckle at her discomfort.

I’m sorry, I mouth, and then she’s out of sight.

I hear my mom talking with her as they walk to the living room. As I take the box of pastries into the kitchen I hear the sound of my stepdad, Patrick’s voice fills my ears, and I’m about 99 percent certain that, when I walk into the living room, I’ll see him kissing the back of Bridget’s hand, like the gentleman he is.

As predicted, his hands are clasped around Bridget’s and she’s smiling bashfully as he presses a kiss to her knuckles.

Patrick and my mom met when I was thirteen and Oscar was nine. He was a breath of fresh air, especially after Frank upped and left our family for a much younger woman in the US. My brother and I haven’t heard from him since, but Patrick stepped into the fatherly role. My brother and I put him through hell when he first moved in, but he was patient, kind, and most importantly he loves our mom unconditionally.

His family emigrated from Ireland to Saskatchewan when he was a teenager, and he grew up on a small farm with his two sisters, Saoirse and Aoife. He moved to Vancouver in his mid-thirties after a divorce, and he met Mom shortly after at work, the two of them becoming good friends.

I lean against the doorway watching as my mom and Patrick shower Bridget in affection. “Aren’t you a vision,” Patrick compliments. “I’m Patrick, the boys’ stepfather.”

Bridget laughs softly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Mom smiles at the interaction and then waves over my brother and his other half. “Darling, this is my other son Oscar, and his gorgeous fiancée, Isobel.”

Isobel and Oscar get up from the couch and make their way over. Isobel wraps her arms around Bridget’s shoulders and smiles. “You look just as beautiful as the last time we saw you.”

Mom notices my presence then and her eyes narrow. “So I’m the only one who hasn’t met you?” she asks, tutting as she shakes her head. “My boy has been keeping you all to himself!”

Patrick steers Bridget to a chair in the corner of the room, and once she’s seated, I find myself gravitating toward her. I sit on the arm, my thigh brushing against her bicep. She looks around the room inquisitively, watching as Isobel and Oscar cuddle up on the sofa with Olivia in their arms. Mom sits on Patrick’s lap in the other chair, and I relish the moment.

I place a hand on Bridget’s shoulder, and she looks up at me with bright eyes. Her blush lips part when my eyes meet hers and the two of us share a small smile. I can feel Mom watching us from across the room, but I keep my eyes on Bridget as I lean in and brush my lips against her ear.

“My mom adores you,” I whisper. “You’re winning everyone over.”

Bridget beams and places her hand on my knee, her slender fingers curling around my kneecap. “This is a lot easier than last time.”

“We’ve had some practice.”

Mom claps her hands together and looks around the room with a warm smile. “Oh, how wonderful is this?” She sighs contently. “Both of my boys and their families.”

I see Bridget stiffen from the corner of my eye, and before I can say anything Patrick and Mom get up from the chair, and he smiles at us all. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

elias