“Guess who called me last night.” Sara plopped into a chair at the sandwich shop next to the PT office and unwrapped her sub.

Rebecca pried the lid off the so-called salad they’d made her—essentially a huge pile of shredded lettuce with the rest of what would normally go in a sub dumped on top. Still, she couldn’t face their soggy yet somehow dried out bread today. “No idea. The President?”

Jen snickered and pulled open a bag of chips. “Good one.”

“Do you even want to know?” Sara flipped up the top piece of bread and frowned. “Why do they always put on mustard? I didn’t ask for mustard. It’s like they hate me.”

Rebecca offered Sara her plastic knife. “Scrape it off. You know they confuse easily. Why do we come here again?”

“’Cause the two of you can walk. Why I drive thirty minutes to meet you, now that’s a reasonable question.” Jen took a long drink from her soda. “But I was going to have to stay late today anyway, so I might as well have a long lunch. Just tell us, Sara. Who called you?”

“Ben.”

“My Ben?” The words flew out of Rebecca’s mouth before she could think. She blinked. “Not that he’s mine. Obviously. But Ben Taylor? That Ben?”

Sara smirked. “I think you were right the first time. Your Ben. And yes, that’s the one.”

Rebecca stabbed her fork into the bowl until it was loaded with more than would comfortably fit in her mouth. She wedged it in anyway. She wasn’t asking why he called. Was. Not. Asking.

Jen pursed her lips and studied Rebecca before turning to Sara. “I’ll bite. What’d he want?”

Sara finished removing the offending mustard, wrapped the knife in a napkin, and set it aside. “Mostly he wanted to know if he should let Rebecca here push him away, or keep after her. The way I heard him, he’s unhappy with her attempts at a brush off but also is enough of a gentleman to let her go if that’s really what she wants.”

Rebecca’s heart leapt but she feigned disinterest as she swallowed. “What’d you say?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to tell you that. I mean, I can see you’re not really uninterested. But at the same time...”

Rebecca reached across the table and grabbed Sara’s arm. “Just tell me.”

“Aha.” Jen elbowed Sara. “That got her.”

“All right, all right. I told him to keep trying, but to let you put him in the friend zone for a while.” Sara shook her arm loose and picked up her sandwich. “You’re welcome.”

“That’s all he asked?” Rebecca stabbed at the salad again.

Sara sighed. “He did ask if I knew what was so complicated.”

The blood drained from Rebecca’s face and her fork clattered to the table. Her voice stuck in her throat, coming out like a croak. “What did you tell him?”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Really? We’ve been friends how long and you have to ask me that? I said it was your story to tell, but that he should keep after you to tell it. Sheesh, Rebecca. What’s wrong with you?”

Heat flooded her face and she dropped her gaze to the table. “Sorry. I’m sorry, you’re right. I just...”

“Yeah, well. You need to trust your friends.” Sara wrapped up her sandwich and strode from the restaurant.

Rebecca watched her go, her mouth hanging open. She snapped it shut as the bells on the door jangled Sara’s exit.

“She’s not wrong, you know.” Jen frowned. “Sara and I have your back. You know this. But I also think Ben would, if you’d give him a chance. Besides all that? It’s been what, ten years since your dad said anything about you in his talks? Think it might be time to let it go? The only person you’re punishing by holding on to all of this is you.”

Jen’s words echoed in her head the rest of the day. She wasn’t trying to punish anyone. She was just trying to protect herself. She’d tried to track down Sara and apologize, but her friend had managed to keep busy the rest of the day. And then sneak out before Rebecca could corner her. She’d just have to track her down tomorrow. At this point, she was going to go visit the cat shelter where she’d put in an online application and then go home.

Her phone rang as she pulled out of the parking lot. Rebecca hit the button to transfer the call to her car speakers and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie, it’s Mom.”

Rebecca smiled. There was no need for her mom to say who it was, yet she always did. Habit, probably, but it made her warm inside. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

“Just checking in on you, seeing what you’re up to.”

Let’s see, annoying her friends, brushing off the one man who’d ever managed to get past her defenses and into her heart...probably better not to lead with any of those. “I’m on my way to an animal shelter. I think I’m going to get a cat. They have this adorable medium-haired tabby on the website who I can’t get out of my head. They emailed to say my application had been approved and I could come and meet the cats tonight, see if any of them were a good fit.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun. Will you get to bring it home tonight?”

Rebecca slowed and took the ramp onto the Beltway. “No. Maybe this weekend. The application is preliminary. Once you have a particular cat that you’re interested in, they have some kind of process they go through. I didn’t get a full explanation. Probably when I’m there they’ll give me more detail.”

“Aw. That’s too bad. But I guess it gives you time to change your mind, too?”

That was a thought. Did they have people back out after they took a cat home? Was there some kind of return policy? “Huh. Maybe that’s it. A waiting period to make sure you’re serious. Dunno.”

“Are you looking at a kitten or a grown cat?”

“I wanted a kitten, initially, but they basically insist you adopt kittens in pairs. I’m...not sure I’m ready for two cats. Though maybe it’s easier? I don’t know. I guess we’ll see how it goes when I’m there. The tabby is almost a year old, so I think he’s able to go solo.”

“Hmm. Two cats would give them companionship while you’re away from home. It’s something to consider. It’s not like you spend tons of time there.”

That was true. Rebecca drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she inched forward in the bumper-to-bumper evening traffic.

“What’s Ben think?”

Rebecca frowned. “What does Ben think about what?”

“Getting a cat. When the two of you get together, the cat, or cats, will be part of the deal, right? You wouldn’t take them back to the shelter?”

“No, of course not. But...Ben and I aren’t going to end up together, Mom. We talked about that.”

“I’d hoped you’d come to your senses about that. Becca, honey, don’t you think it’s time you moved on?”

“You too, Mom? Jen—and Sara for that matter—gave me almost that exact speech at lunch today.” Rebecca sighed. Was this God trying to tell her something? Why didn’t He just talk, in a real, audible voice, like He did to the heroines in the Christian novels she read?

Her Mom’s sigh echoed her own. “Your dad’s sorry, sweetheart. He’s told you this more times than even I can count. And beyond that, once he realized the predicament he’d put you in, he stopped using the stories. What more, really, do you want him to do?”

“I don’t know, Mom. But you saw the sidebar in the magazine that just featured his upcoming release, didn’t you? It’s not as if the problem has gone away just because he stopped making it worse.”

Her mom’s end of the line was quiet. Had she hung up?

“I understand it’s hurtful, Becca, but really, what else are they going to print? They ask about you—they always have—and for ten years, your father has respected your wishes and simply ignored the question and asked that the interviewer return to the subject at hand. What he’d like to do is tell them how incredibly proud of you he is. How he admires the fact that you’ve completed a Master’s degree and are a successful and sought-after physical therapist who spends her off time tutoring homeless and disadvantaged children. He’d love to talk about the foundation you set up for your trust fund and all the good that does. But to try and make up for the harm he caused you, he stays quiet because you asked him to. And so the reporters speculate.”

“How...how did you find out about the foundation? That’s confidential. Or it’s supposed to be.” Apparently her attorney did a bad job securing her privacy like she’d asked him, since Jerry put it together too. Was her true identity that easy to discover? She did Internet searches fairly regularly, trying to see if there were any connections and never came up with anything. But maybe she should hire someone who really knew what they were doing. Just to be sure.

“We set up the trust fund. Just because you’re able to draw on it now doesn’t mean we aren’t still informed about how you use it. The fact that you saved up to buy your home with your own money, and that you don’t use the trust for personal purchases makes both of us incredibly proud. No matter what your father might have said about you when he was fabricating examples for his speeches, he’s the first to admit that you’ve made us proud.”

Rebecca flicked on her turn signal and eased onto the exit. Traffic on the back roads was just as heavy as the highway, though this was at least moderated some by traffic lights. Her parents were proud of her. The words were foreign, even in her head. “Okay.”

Her mother laughed. “That’s it?”

“I don’t know, Mom. It’s a lot to take in. And I’m here so, I’m going to go pet some cats.”

“Do that. And Becca, while you’re at it, think about what I’ve said. Your father and I love you. We’re proud of you. And we want you to have a full, fabulous life, not this empty half-life you’ve constructed.”

Rebecca swallowed. Her life wasn’t empty. She had friends. And a job she was good at. Maybe she wasn’t changing the world like she’d always thought she would, but sometimes you had to adjust your dreams to suit the reality of life. Didn’t you? “I love you, too.”

“Text me a picture of your kitty.”

She smiled. “All right. Bye, Mom.”

Rebecca ended the call and pulled into a parking spot in front of the shelter. The fact that her parents loved her wasn’t news. And yet...something was different this time. She shook her head and grabbed her purse. She’d go and pet some cats and maybe she’d figure out why her skin was too tight and prickly.