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My son will always have photos, drawings, and paintings of his childhood. I even bit the bullet and have a few of us over the years as well. I am not someone who has ever really enjoyed taking photos of myself before.

I take them now so my son will have them when I’m gone many years in the future. I know how important it is to have those memories. I hate that I don’t remember the way my mother smelled or the color of my father’s eyes. Ugh, the things I’ve lost still make me so sad.

I have the humpback whale drawing hung at Emil’s house, since I’m still hiding pieces of myself from Arran. I don’t know if I should tell him that I’m N. Z. Rummani or not. I used my birth mother’s maiden name for my pseudonym, even as I pretend to be a male in the art world.

Ugh, I’m always fucking pretending.

“Isla.” I blink twice to pull myself back from spiraling about things I can’t currently change and smile at Arran. It’s a real smile with teeth and everything, because I’m really happy he’s here.

“Yes.”

“Can you drink some water for me?” he asks, brow raised. My lips twist slightly as I pull the bottle out of my bag and take a few long, hard pulls from my straw. “How’s my girl doing?”

“Being mean to myself,” I grumble.

“Well stop,” he growls. “There’s nothing wrong with sitting when you need to.”

People flow around us, and the hostess seats them as we continue to wait. I notice her shifting to look around the men surrounding me, her eyes narrowing as she sees me sitting down.

“I know, I was having a moment and now it’s done,” I say, shrugging. “I found this place online and mentioned that I might want to try it, but now I’m not so sure.”

“There’s always tacos,” Arran teases me.

Rachelle hides a smile from him, knowing that he’s right.

“Excuse me.” I see the hostess staring at me and for one, awful moment, I imagine her telling me that I can’t sit for some reason. Ugh, anxiety is so odd. “Your table is ready. I’m so sorry for the wait. I see you found a chair.”

And there it is. Her lips twist in derision as she watches me stand and Arran snaps it shut behind me without a word. I can feel the tension in his body as his hand presses against the small of my back, which means he doesn’t have any nice words to say.

“Excuse me.” Zayn walks over, his lips pinched as he stares at the hostess.

“Yes? Oh you’re so cute.”

“And that’s my mom. Her chair is important. Don’t make fun of it. Got it?”

“I suggest that you choose your words wisely,” Jared says under his breath.

“Of course, little sir.” The woman doesn’t seem to know what to think and steps back. “It’ll be right this way.”

We follow her to our table, and I’m glad to find that it’s not in the main dining room, which is getting really loud. I put my stool away and hang up my purse before I sit down, and Zayn takes the seat next to me. My family suspiciously allows Arran the chair on the other side of me, and I get comfortable with waiting.

I don’t have a problem with busy restaurants, it’s more so the way people look at me when I have to take my accommodations into my own hands.

The conversation flows easily once everyone can see I’m relaxed, and we chat until a waitress comes by with menus. Emil orders water for the table, and I look through the food options, leaning toward Zayn to help him decide.

The two of us talk, and he helps me find something to eat too. He started asking me questions about what I was going to have as soon as he could really talk, and we’ve been having this song and dance ever since.

“Did he just gentle parent you into choosing your dinner?” Arran asks, amused.

“He did,” I giggle. “I told him I wanted lamb earlier today, but started trending toward chicken and rice while we talked. He reminded me of our conversation because he said he didn’t want me to be disappointed.”

“Wow,” he mutters, shaking his head. “He’s such a good kid.”

“Isn’t he?” I ask, grinning. “He did a good job keeping his surprise under wraps.”

“He decided to do this last month,” Emil says, leaning toward me from across the table. “He said he was searching for things to do that you’d like. There were quite a few things in the running before he pared it down.”

“I love the way his mind works,” Arran says. “Of course, he knows you love art, so it was the obvious choice. How long has this been a passion for you?”