Chapter Forty-Three

Making the Same Mistakes Our Parents Did…But Faster!

“What?” I said. “I thought you wanted me to marry Rob.”

“So did I.” She chuckled. “But I’ve been doing some thinking the past few days, since I started coping head-on with my own situation.” She paused. “I was responsible for my own loneliness.”

I pressed my lips together. Maybe she was, but I wasn’t. Kelly had made the decision to move out. Dax chose to take Joanne and go.

“Instead of getting out there and WERQ-ing it—” She snapped her fingers in a sassy Z formation.

“Never do that again,” I told her.

“—I’d made the choice to sit home waiting for my friends and my kids to call.” She sipped her water. “I realized that I resented if people had their own lives and their own plans, when I could have been out there doing the same thing.”

I shoved a scoop of custard into my mouth. Shit. Truth bombs from my mother.

“I started thinking, ‘I’m seventy. What have I always wanted to do but claimed I didn’t have the time for—because I felt like I had to be available for my friends and family whenever they needed me? Those things were just excuses not to put myself out there.’” She paused. “I know it’s not quite the same for you. You have real restrictions on your time, with a demanding job.”

I set my custard down. She had a point. I did often claim not to have time for things—relationships, friendships, you name it—and the excuse was always work. “I looked at my phone yesterday and was willing it to ring with a patient question, just because I was looking for something to do.”

She nodded. “I get it. I tried to fill my life by meddling in yours and Regina’s and your dad’s before that, when I should’ve been focusing on myself.”

I frowned. “But the thing is, my job actually does take up most of my time and energy. That’s not simply a cop-out. I really don’t know how I’d fit in something like WERQ…or the Annie equivalent. I’ve always said I don’t even have time to take care of a plant.”

“And you were going to have time for a ready-made marriage with Rob?”

The sugar soured in my mouth. “I know what you can do next,” I said, impressed and annoyed with my mother’s newfound depth and introspection. “Take psychology classes and write a self-help book.”

“I mean it, Annie. How do you see Rob fitting into your life?”

I had no real answer for that. I kind of just assumed that he would somehow fold into my life, easy-peasy. But that wouldn’t have been fair to him. “I don’t.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I can’t marry Rob,” I said.

“No, you can’t.”

…

When I got back to my mom’s house, I went right over to Rob’s and texted him to come see me on the porch.

He came right out, an expectant smile on his face. “Hey, Annie.” He assessed my wardrobe—red running tights with a pink-and-purple sports bra.

I ran a hand down my body. “I was just at a hip-hop dance class thing…” I shook my head. “Anyway, Rob, I came here to tell you I’m sorry.” I handed him the ring.

He stared at the box for a moment before looking at me with panicked eyes. “Annie, no. Please.”

I dug in. I was making the right choice, even if it meant me disappointing Rob and having to figure out my own life, on my own, sans a man. “Rob, maybe the two of us could be content together, but I don’t think we’d be happy. We come from the same place, but we don’t have much in common.” I shook my head. “It’s not going to work.”

He clutched the ring in his fist. “Please. Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be forever—just for now. My mom—”

“Your mom will be fine,” I said. “She will be. Be honest with her. She can handle it.” I softened my voice. “Do you really want her to die believing a lie?”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Rob, I’m so sorry. About all of this. When I texted you all those weeks ago, I was in a very desperate place. I thought the only thing missing from my life was a committed, stable, drama-free relationship. But I was wrong.” I tried to get him to meet my eyes, but he kept glancing away. “The truth is, I was avoiding trying to fix the real problem.” I chuckled. “Me.”

Now he looked at me.

“For my entire life, I threw myself into work. It became the only thing that mattered, and it cost me people I truly cared about.” I paused. “I have to deal with that, in my own way, by myself. Jumping into a relationship for convenience would only be putting a bandage on a wound instead of actually trying to heal it, and it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Okay,” he said with a deep sigh. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said. “Regardless of how this all ended…it’s been nice reconnecting with you.”

My chest tightened, not from fear or sadness or stress or any of the other feelings I’d been experiencing lately. My heart felt full. “I’d love that, Rob. Seriously.”

“Good.” His nose wrinkled. “Because after”—he nodded back toward his house, where his mother was resting—“you and your mom will be the only family I have left.”

“You have your friends,” I said.

“I do,” he agreed. “But they see me one way. You and your mom know me as Regina’s son.” His voice cracked on that last word.

I pulled him in for a tight hug. “You’ll always have us.”

“How did you come to this whole enlightened conclusion?” he asked after I let him go.

“Well,” I said, recalling the image of my mother twerking, “my mom inspired me, if you can believe it, and a patient who recently died.”

Concern flooded his expression. “Oh, Annie. I’m sorry.”

My body filled with gratitude for the people I had in my life now—my mom, Rob, Yessi—and those who I might, or would, never connect with again—Kelly, Gayle, Dax. “Thanks, Rob, but I’ve been thinking about her a lot over the past few days, how she was always subtly—and not so subtly—trying to steer me in the right direction, to start carving out some time for myself.” I shrugged. “I’m going to honor her by taking her advice. WWGGD. What Would Gayle Gale Do? That’s my new motto.”

“I like that.” He smiled. “So what’s first on your agenda?”

I looked him in the eye. “Attack the problem at the root.”