Page 55

“Yeah, about thirty minutes ago,” I say. “I haven’t had breakfast, so if you want, we can go out.”

“That sounds nice.” She hugs me briefly. “There’s a new brunch place in Somerville.”

“Somerville is…where?”

“North, upstate.”

“I’m down.”

She pulls the sliding glass door open, stepping aside so Derry can barrel inside. “Alright, let me shower and get dressed. Then, I’ll drive.”

She smiles, disappearing. I go back up to my bedroom and unzip my luggage. On one side are the dirty clothes I need to throw in the washer. On the other side are the things he bought me. I pick one of the sweatshirts up and run it through my fingers, then lift it to my face. I might be imagining it, but it kind of smells like him. Like his lonely house up on the cliffs, with salty air whipping through it.

My eyes sting.

Goddamn it, I have to pull myself together.

By the time Mom is ready to go, I’m feeling a little better. We drive out to the brunch spot in Somerville and sit by the window in two big plush chairs with a round table between us. It’s the kind of spot that Mom loves, but nobody would suspect. Everything else in her life is very corporate. But on her own time, she’s in antique shops, at orchards, in bookstores. Maybe that’s how she finds balance.

“So, tell me what happened?”

I glance over the menu. “How detailed?”

“Not that detailed,” she says. “But you know I’ll talk to you about anything, honey.”

The waitress appears, and we both order omelets and coffee. Mom pulls her knees up, wrapping an arm around them.

“You came back,” she says. “But you don’t seem happy.”

I swallow, clearing my throat. “Yeah, I mean…I didn’t think we were going to ride off into the sunset.”

“But you got him out of your system?”

“Yes,” I lie.

Her brows rise. I squirm, saved by our coffee appearing, but only briefly. The second we’re alone again, she turns that hard stare back on me.

“You can be honest with me.”

“Okay, it didn’t work as well as I thought.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “I didn’t think it would. Do you want to talk about it?”

I open my mouth, but a harsh wave of sadness hits me and pulls me under. When I left, I wanted a different result upon coming back to New York. Maybe the city isn’t far enough; maybe I should go home to the ranch. I could try to lose myself in work during the summer, then reevaluate in the fall. The last thing I want to do is go back to the four walls of my room, but it might be a good idea.

I’ll see how I feel in the morning. Right now, I’m thinking about getting back on a plane and going to Maine.

Did I make a mistake?

But what other option was there?

“No,” I say finally. “I want to have brunch, then go home and watch a movie. Sleep for a while.”

Her face softens. “We can do that.”

She reaches across the table, and I take her hand. “I’m fine.”

“I know, but I was your age once, and I know how it feels.”