Chapter Fourteen

Ian

Tommy and I rode with Scott in the procession from Faith, Hope, and Charity in Winnetka to St. Joseph’s cemetery in Wilmette. Scott’s mom had gotten a beautiful summer day for her services. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky and a faint breeze rustled the branches of the trees that flanked her gravesite.

I’d thought about my own funeral somewhat recently. The whole turning-forty thing had been a catalyst. I’d wondered who would show up. I was a guy whom everyone knew of, but not many people really knew. Probably the whole “work first” thing. Who’d take time out of their day to see me off?

Erin? Probably not. Not anymore.

Scott and his mom, however, had inspired the entire North Shore community to come out and pay their respects—fund-raising folks from their church and the Academy, heck, even the mayor had shown up. I spotted Liz, Ja, and Luisa hanging out near the back of the crowd, which actually choked me up, honestly. They really had no obligation to be here.

After Scott’s mom had been laid to rest, my eyes scanned the crowd again—searching for something. An all-encompassing emptiness filled my gut, which made no sense. This was Scott’s mom’s funeral. He was the one who was supposed to feel loss, not me. I had to be the strong one.

But then I saw the blond hair poking out from behind a nearby oak.

No, not Erin.

My mother.

My own mother.

I stepped back, hiding a bit, and took a moment to examine her. We hadn’t been in the same room since…I couldn’t remember. Maybe it had been ten years?

She and my dad were talking, laughing, him in a suit, her in a long, flowing floral dress—sans a bra. She’d become one of those crunchy, braless ladies ever since she moved to Hawaii. She’d pulled her long, graying blond hair up in a bun, and she wore no makeup. This was not the mom from my childhood. That woman had worn business suits and had hair like a helmet. Now she looked like she reeked of patchouli.

I took another step back, ready to make a run for my car. She was here for what? To make amends? Too fucking late for that now.

This woman was a stranger to me, and I owed her nothing.

And the empty pit in my stomach grew. My life fast-forwarded twenty years in the future to some other funeral or wedding or whatever. I’d run into my own kid, and he’d think the same shit about me, that he owed me nothing. He’d look at me like I was a pathetic old man who was still trying to capture his youth with work and women.

And he’d be right.

Then I’d see Erin across the room, and I’d have to leave. I’d have to make up some excuse before ducking out and jumping on a plane to somewhere halfway around the world just to avoid feeling any way at all about it.

With a deep breath, I approached my parents. “Hi,” I said.

My dad gave me one of those one-armed man hugs, which was hardly more than a pat on the back. Then he headed off to chat with one of his golf buddies.

My mom held back. Her eyes watered, and I tried to ignore them. Just seeing her emotion—heck, seeing her, period—had drummed up all kinds of nonsense inside me.

“You’re here,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Scott’s mom and I were good friends…back in the day. And…I wanted to be here for him…and you.”

I stared at the ground, digging a divot in the dirt with the toe of my Sperry loafer.

“Your dad told me about the baby. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s, well…thanks.” I had planned for years what I’d say to her if I saw her again. I’d yell and scream and blame her for every mistake I’d ever made. But today, at my best friend’s mom’s funeral, I could only feel sad. Sad that this stranger was my mom. Sad that I was about to take on that outsider parent’s role in my own life.

My mom smiled sadly. There were new wrinkles next to her eyes. “You look more and more like my dad.”

These were the kinds of things she always said to me when we talked, the things I used to do as a baby, the absolute truths she’d known about me when I was five—that I looked like her dad, that I loved math, that Ryne Sandberg had been my favorite baseball player. These were all still true facts to her, the only facts. She knew me, her son, at the surface level only. She had no concept of my day-to-day life. Our relationship went no deeper than faded memories and banal trivia.

And this was how I’d know my son, too. I’d see him on occasion, weekends, maybe the odd week here and there, and I’d only know the little things, the inconsequential things that anyone who’d been in a room with him five minutes would know.

“Hey, Mom.” My mind catalogued all the things I could say to her, the accusations and guilt trips. Instead I said, “Thanks for coming.” I reached for her, and she hugged me. It was the first time we’d touched like that in years. I hadn’t hugged my mother in maybe a decade, not because she was dead or in prison or separated from me in some legitimate way, but because I’d chosen long ago to shut her out on account of her life choices. She’d tried to make amends many times over the years and I’d thwarted her every attempt.

Like James would probably thwart mine.

She squeezed me tight. “Thank you.” She let me go and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to know more about this baby.” She smiled at me under a heavy gaze.

“There’s not much to say,” I said. “The mother and I aren’t together.” I glanced around absentmindedly, always keeping half an eye out for Erin, just in case.

My mom looked so sad, I added, “It’s okay.”

“Can we grab dinner tonight before I take off?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I’m leaving.”

She cocked her head.

“I’m moving. To Tokyo. For work.” My plane left later this evening. After the funeral, I’d head home to finish packing.

“But the baby…?”

“He’ll be fine.” My voice faltered, but I covered with a cough.

“Ian.” She put a hand on my forearm, and I let her. “I know I’m not the one you want to get advice from, but look at your cautionary tale of a mother. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Don’t work yourself until you implode.” She nodded toward my dad. “Don’t push your love away until it’s so far gone it’ll never come back.”

I nodded, and I kept nodding. It was the only thing keeping me from crying. I had to get out of there, away from her, at least for the moment, before I totally lost it here, in this public place. “Good to see you.” I turned and walked away. I had to. My chest was going to burst with emotion all over Scott’s mom’s grave.

Wiping my eyes while walking back to the car procession, which was about to leave for the post-funeral banquet, I ran into Liz and her partners. We shook hands all around, and I choked down a sob or two. “Thank you so much for coming,” I said.

“Of course,” Liz said. “We’re so sorry.”

I pulled out a handkerchief, blew my nose, and nodded. “So…how’s business?” Enough death, dying, and existential crises for one day. It was time to get back to brass tacks, to my comfort zone.

Liz shrugged. “Could be better.”

It had been bothering me for days how I’d taken down their company in Tokyo. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had been because she was a fellow Rambler. Whatever it was, I had regrets. “Look. I’m sorry about how everything went down. I didn’t mean to be that big a dick.”

“Yes, you did.” She chuckled.

“Okay, yes, I did.” I glanced over at Scott, who was now talking to Tommy and Susie, who was holding Maeve. My mom had gone back to talking to my dad like he was a stranger she just met. It was the same way she’d just talked to me. It was how the entire world would talk to me if I moved to Tokyo for a few months, if I kept traveling and moving and working at the pace I’d been. “I think you guys are great, though,” I told Liz. “You’re young, you need more capital and connections, but you’re great.” I drew in a deep breath.

Liz laughed. “If only you old guys could throw us a bone once in a while.”

“Where’d be the fun in that?” I waved my phone at her. I had to get out of here, to go home and pack before my flight, before I took off for Tokyo for three months—the first three months of my son’s life.

Almost at my car, I paused.

Maybe I owed it to myself—and Erin and James—to give this one more shot, to give her one more chance to let me back in. No regrets. Nothing left unsaid.

I pulled out my phone typed two simple sentences: “I’m sorry. Please give me one more chance. Please, Erin.”

And…crickets.

…

Erin

“Has anyone seen my phone?” I yelled over the roaring sound of the hair dryers. Nat, Katie, and I were getting our hair and makeup done before the Gala tonight.

Katie, in the seat next to me, rummaged through my purse. “I don’t see it. Is it in your pocket?”

I patted my hips. I was wearing a cotton dress. “I don’t have any pockets. Shit.” My eyes scanned the floor around my chair. No phone, just hair clippings.

“Have you seen my charger?” came Nat’s voice behind me.

My eyes met Nat’s in the mirror. “Crap.”

“You left it in the gym,” she said.

I nodded. “Sorry.” I hit the side of my head. “Pregnancy brain.” I’d left my phone charging in the Glenfield Academy gym, where I’d plugged it in while setting up for the Gala this morning.

“No problem,” Nat said. “I’ll get it tonight.”

I examined my face now. Yvette, my stylist, was currently playing around with my pixie cut, preparing to add little crystal butterflies to my hair. I’d already had my makeup done—an iridescent eye shadow paired with a smoky eyeliner. Super dramatic. Paired with my slinky blue dress, I’d look like a whole new Erin tonight.

Aside from the whole swollen legs/stomach like a beach ball thing, I was a fox. A catch.

Too bad I had no one to impress.

Maria bombarded Nat, Katie, and me as soon as we stepped foot in the gym later that evening after we’d gotten all gussied up. “The cake!” she screeched. “The cake is ruined.” She apparently hadn’t left the gym all afternoon and had planned to get dressed at school. Her hair was up in curlers, and she wore only a robe.

“What’s wrong with the cake?” I asked, dessert being the most important part of any fund-raising event.

“Come see.” She dragged us toward the dessert table on the far side of the gym, next to the stage. The place looked great, honestly. The Glenfield Academy gym had been transformed into a luxury ballroom, complete with twinkling lights and candles. The black, white, and silver theme made the whole thing très chic.

“Look.” Maria pointed at the cake.

The two-tiered confection had been covered in white roses and piped with silver ribbons. “It’s gorgeous,” I said.

“Yeah.” Maria’s nostrils flared. “Now taste it.”

“Taste it?” Nat asked.

“Try a bit of the frosting.”

I glanced at my friends. Maria had lost her mind. She was now asking me to behave like a three-year-old at his birthday party, dunking my finger into the icing before the cake had been cut.

Maria dove right in. She plunked her index finger directly into the bottom tier and scooped out a glop of frosting.

“You ruined the cake,” I said.

“Try it.” Her eyebrows narrowed to a V.

I leaned over and licked a bit of frosting from her finger. “What the?” I spit it out immediately and wiped my mouth with my forearm. “That’s disgusting.” Katie handed me a cocktail napkin from the nearby bar and I used it to clean my tongue.

Maria pointed accusingly at the cake. “The bakery used flour instead of powdered sugar. The whole thing’s inedible.”

My shoulders dropped. “Dang.”

“Exactly.”

“What are we going to do?” The rollers bobbed against Maria’s head.

I almost asked her what she was going to do—seeing as she was the fund-raising chair. But she also appeared to be in a very fragile state right now, and she was currently still in her dressing gown, while the other ladies and I had come completely glammed up.

Also, I was the boss.

“Katie.” I pointed to my sister. “Go to Mariano’s. They have delicious desserts—pick up some cupcakes. People love cupcakes.”

“They do,” Katie agreed.

“Nat, call the bakery and tell them what happened. We expect a full refund.”

“Aye-aye.” She glanced around the room. “But I need my charger.”

I pointed to the other end of the gym, near the door. “You’ll find it over there, with my phone.”

Maria looked at me expectantly.

“And you,” I said, “go get beautiful.”

All the girls took off on their various tasks, and I spun around to survey the scene. We were still about a half hour away from when we’d open the doors. The decorating committee was currently lighting candles and setting up place cards. I stepped over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of Dasani.

“Erin!”

Mouth full of water, I glanced up to see Nat sprinting toward me.

“Erin.” She waved my phone in my face. “Ian texted.”

I covered my mouth to keep the water from dribbling onto my dress.

She handed me the phone and waited while I read the messages. “I’m sorry. Please give me another chance,” then “I’m getting on a plane to Tokyo tonight, but I don’t want to. Tell me you want to try to work things out,” then “I miss you so much.”

Nat, hand on hip, said, “He texted you.” She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “He. Texted. You.”

I stared at the phone. That’s what I’d said I wanted, right? That I’d been waiting for him to get in touch with me. And now he had.

My fingers grazed the screen as if ready to give him everything he wanted.

I pushed the phone away from my body. “No. What’s changed? Is he just going to hurt me again?”

“You won’t know unless you text him back.” Nat shoved the phone toward my chest.

“But I said I’d be fine on my own.” Texting Ian back would amount to failure on my part. “And I am. Totally, utterly fine. I—”

Something pinged in my gut.

“It’s not that you’re not ‘fine’ on your own,” Nat said. “It’s just that maybe you’d be more fine with Ian, and he with you. You’ve been miserable without each other. Maybe try being happy for once.”

I grabbed my midsection. “What the…heck?” I caught myself before the very un-principal-like “fuck” slipped out. I was at work, after all. A trickle of wetness had started running down my leg. My underwear was wet.

Did I just pee in my goddamn pants? I glanced down at my gorgeous blue dress. A circle of wetness grew just below my groin on my ice-blue dress.

“Erin?” Nat draped an arm around my shoulders. “You okay?”

I was still peeing. More and more liquid kept dribbling down my leg. But no. I wasn’t peeing. I was actively stopping the flow of urine, at least I thought I was.

My skin chilled as the realization hit me. “I think my water broke.” My knees buckled, but Nat helped keep me upright.

“Oh my God. We have to get you to the hospital. I’ll call Katie to come back.” She was on her phone in a split second.

I held my own phone with shaking fingers. “And I’ll text Ian.”