MISSION ACCOMPLISHED

Monday, 6:30 P.M.

As I eased into a hot shower that night, I replayed the kiss on loop. The soft warmth of Zander’s lips on mine, the slow tilt of his head as he moved toward me.

Before I could decide which would make a better theme song for the kiss, Ben Folds’s “The Luckiest” or Christina Aguilera’s “Ain’t No Other Man,” I heard Mom’s muffled voice on the other side of the bathroom door.

“Giiiiiirls!”

“In the shoooower!” I bellowed, kicking one of Ella’s battery-operated bath mermaids out of the way.

A knock sounded on the other side of the door. “Baby?”

“Mom? What are you doing home?” I turned away from the shower curtain, feeling completely exposed. Partially because Mom had an even better sixth sense than I did and could probably smell my Zander kiss a mile away. And partially because I was naked.

The door opened, and the toilet lid dropped. “Whew! Steamy in here!” Mom said. The lid creaked as she sat down. “What smells like—”

“—dead fish? That would be me.” I grabbed my pouf and scrubbed hard.

“Oh, right! The field trip! How did it go?”

“Fine.” I bit my lip, grateful that she couldn’t see my grin.

“Good.” The lid creaked again. “Listen, I’m glad you’re showering. We’re going out to dinner in about an hour. You know that new sushi place in Lincoln Square?”

“Can’t we just order in? I’m kind of tired.” All I wanted to do was wrap myself in a clean, fluffy bathrobe, eat Chinese takeout, and replay the kiss over and over. And think about whether it was too soon to text him.

“Nope!” The faux cheer in Mom’s voice was enough to make me stop exfoliating. “I got a sub for the night and made special plans. So hop to it, eldest daughter of mine.”

I finished showering in record time, and after throwing on an aubergine silk romper over gray fishnets, I headed for Mom’s bathroom to finish getting ready.

“Kacey!” Ella dove for me the second I walked into the lilac-and-white bathroom. She was wearing black tights, a pink tutu, and a green-and-blue zigzag tankini bathing suit top over a turtleneck. There were unidentified neon-orange stains on her fingertips. Cheese puff residue, if I had to guess.

“Ahhh! This is silk!” I grabbed her wrists just in time and held her at a safe distance. “Keep. Off.”

“Better yet, why don’t you wash your hands, El?” Mom bent over one of the white marble pedestal sinks and pouted at the mirror, filling in her lips with a creamy, pinkish-nude gloss. She’d flatironed her normally wavy auburn hair so that it fell in a sleek, angled curtain around her shoulders.

“Whoa.” I whistled as she straightened up, showing off a close-fitting black knit dress with a high neck and a semi-low V in the back. Paige was right: My mother was a fox. “Hot date?”

I knew the second the words left my mouth. “Ohmygod. No way.”

“Kacey.” Mom sighed. Then she turned to Ella and took her by the hands. “Ella, sweetie? I want you girls to meet a friend of mine at dinner tonight, okay? A… man… friend.”

Ella’s eyes became flying-saucer wide. I knew the feeling.

“MOM! I can’t believe you’re springing this on us, like, half an hour before!” How had I not seen this coming? The heart-to-heart Friday night, the second date on Saturday… I should have been prepared. But I was too busy worrying about Zander and Stevie to focus on my mother, Chicago’s newest bachelorette.

“I didn’t know until a couple of hours ago.” Mom glanced back and forth between Ella and me, like she wasn’t sure who was more deserving of her excuses. “He called and asked if I wanted to go to dinner, and said he wanted to meet you girls, so—”

“So you just said okay, without asking us first, because that’s what he wanted? Hello? I thought you were a feminist!” I huffed so hard the cilantro-scented candle on the shelf by the door went out.

Mom bit her lip to hide a smile, which made me want to pitch her jar of super-fancy eye cream at the mirror.

“I don’t even like sushi.” It was a lie, and everybody in the bathroom knew it. But I couldn’t think of anything else to say. “And besides, I have a headache.”

“Me too.” Ella’s lower lip trembled. “I have a headache.”

Mom shot me a look. “Girls. Come here.”

If I’d been wearing heels, I would have stomped across the white tiles. But since I was just in tights, I had to settle for some very stern walking. “What?”

“Sit down,” Mom said softly. Her voice was equal parts authority and softness—the worst possible combination. “Okay, listen. I may not have handled this in the best way. I should have given you girls more time to prepare, or talk about it, or whatever you needed. So I apologize for the short notice.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes to the ceiling.

“But I hope you girls know that I would never, ever ask you to meet someone unless I thought he could be an important part of my—our—lives. Can you trust that?” She crouched in front of the tub and rested a hand on both our knees. “Trust me?”

I swallowed the knot in my throat and nodded.

“And I do. I really do think he could mean a lot to me. But nothing”—her voice cracked as she squeezed our hands—“no one will ever mean more to me than my precious girls. Which is why I want you to be involved here. Got it?”

I got it. But I didn’t have to like it.

After I’d wrestled Ella into a suitable jumper and tights and corralled her curls into a ponytail holder, the three of us hailed a cab north to Lincoln Square. We were silent the whole way, which was fine by me. I stared out the window into the dark, my gaze blurred and unfocused. I needed a few minutes of not having to talk, or think, before we walked through the restaurant doors.

“Right here is fine, thanks.” Too soon, the cab came to a stop and Mom slipped a wad of cash through the partition. We stepped onto the street just below the glowing green Lincoln Square marquee. The commercial district was bustling with twenty- and thirty-somethings carrying shopping bags and talking on cell phones. Wrought-iron streetlamps cast a buttery glow over the sidewalk. I’d been to Lincoln Square a million times, but tonight it felt like unfamiliar territory.

“They’re supposed to have this incredible sashimi.” Mom straightened the hem of her dress. “Do you girls remember the seafood place in Streeterville we used to go to sometimes? Well, the head chef there left to open up his own place, and this is—”

“Mom. Can you chill out, please?” I gripped her forearm with one hand and Ella’s wrist with the other. Sometimes living with my family was like having two kids of my own. “It’s probably not gonna be a total disaster.”

“Reassuring, Kacey. Thank you.” Mom ran her fingers through her hair twice in a row.

“And if it is a total disaster, look on the bright side,” I said cheerfully. “We’re never, ever doing this again.”

“Do I have lipstick on my teeth?” She flashed a flawless Simon Smile at Ella and me.

I folded my arms over my chest. “What’s it worth to you?”

Mom looked to Ella, who shook her head.

“Thank you. Now let’s do this.” She took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

The restaurant was ultramodern, with dim lighting and a smooth, dark wooden floor. The tables were low to the ground, looking like square platform beds bordered by overstuffed silk floor cushions. Diners sat cross-legged on the pillows, chopsticks poised over bowls of seaweed salad and trays of artfully arranged sushi. On any other night, I would have been impressed.

“Oh! Hey there!” Mom lifted her hand and signaled for us to follow.

I squinted hard, trying to make out the man standing next to a waterfall wall at the back of the restaurant. He was tall but solidly built, with tanned skin that set off his light blue eyes. Barefoot, in worn jeans and an army-green button-down with the top two buttons missing, he was definitely underdressed. But his longish salt-and-pepper hair and the smile lines around his eyes and mouth told me he probably didn’t worry too much about things like dress codes.

He looked nothing like my father.

“Sterling.” As we approached, Mystery Man rested a hand on her waist and kissed her cheek.

Easy, cowboy. I regarded him warily.

“Gabe,” Mom murmured back in a voice that made me want to dry-heave. “Meet my girls, Kacey and Ella.”

“A pleasure.” Gabe smiled kindly, but didn’t make an attempt to hug us or shake our hands. Again, fine by me.

I forced a smile back. Gabe? Where had I heard that name before?

“And I’d like you all to meet someone as well. Sterling? Girls? This is my daughter—” Gabe stepped aside, and I gasped.

Standing in front of me, her dark hair pulled into a side braid and her full lips pressed into a pout, was—

“—Stevie.”