One week until I see Dom in person again, and I’m frantically working. Trying to make sure there’s nothing that will come up while I’m gone and interrupt our North Dakota trip. I’m in the zone, knocking items off my to-do list left and right, which is why I barely suppress a growl when the phone in my shared cubicle rings.
I loathe unscheduled work calls. But it might be Pamela, and I’m not about to piss her off when I’m on the edge of a vacation.
A vacation with my boyfriend.
The thought of Dom brings a smile to my face and eases the tension in my shoulders. A little over a month has passed since he sang to me as I trekked up all those stairs to this floor, then said he was mine. We’ve video-chatted almost every night since, usually while I’m working on a puzzle. Unless it’s a sexy Zoom call. We play other games during those.
And even though Dom isn’t the most talkative person, he makes an effort for me. Or maybe it’s not an effort. Maybe his dry retorts to my teasing trip easily off his lips. He’s always on time for our chats. Always the one texting me in the morning asking what time I’m free to talk.
As if sensing my tendency to doubt, Dom hasn’t given me a moment to question his commitment. He didn’t just say he’s in this with me. He’s showing up.
And hell, it feels good to rely on him.
I pick up the phone, wishing I’ll hear a deep voice on the other end saying, “Maddie.”
Instead I get Toby, our reception desk attendant, with his rapid-fire nasally voice. “Maddie. Hi. You have a visitor here. I don’t have approval to send them back. Could you come grab them?”
“A visitor?” Could he…No. Dom wouldn’t have shown up early.
Or would he? Maybe dating me is pushing him to be a little spontaneous.
“Yes. Sorry. I have calls coming in.” Toby’s end of the line clicks dead, but I’m already hanging up on my end and shoving out of my chair.
Did he take the week off? Will I get seven more days of him?
Already I’m tired of the distance between us, but I haven’t figured out a solution. The idea of moving back to Philadelphia gives me stress hives. That’s where my toxic childhood home is, and I have a string of memories of Josh in a hospital bed.
Does it say something about me that I don’t think I could move there for Dom?
But how could I ask him to relocate here? Leave his job. Leave his family. Leave his home.
This is all too early. You’re moving too fast.
I may have more confidence in us, but we haven’t been together long enough to broach that topic. Not yet.
Trying not to look like I’m sprinting, I hurry through The Redford Team workspace toward the front desk, searching for a familiar head of dark hair and set of striking eyes.
But when I reach reception, I stumble to a halt, faced with a familiar figure that is not the man I hoped to see.
“Surprise!” Cecilia Sanderson chirps while tucking her phone into her purse.
“What the hell?” I mutter, which makes my mother’s smile take on a strained note.
“Is that any way to greet your mother?”
I don’t bother answering the question because, honestly, I don’t know the correct way to acknowledge the woman I haven’t spoken to in over a year. I meant it when I said I was blocking her number, and I went ahead and blocked my grandmother, too. Not that I expected Florence to reach out to me, but just in case.
“What are you doing here?” A quick glance to the side shows a once-busy Toby is now watching this exchange with curious eyes.
“It’s been so long—”
“Let’s get lunch,” I interrupt her. Whatever this unexpected visit is about, I don’t want our mother-daughter catch-up happening in my workspace. Everyone at The Redford Team sees me as a reliable, levelheaded worker. If anyone can have me ruining my reputation, it’s my mother.
She grins wide. “I would love that.” There’s an air of sincerity to her words that sends my mind reeling as I hasten back to my desk to grab my bag.
Does Cecilia actually want to have a meal with me? To catch up with me?
Maybe in the same way that this time since Josh’s death has seen me set aside old grudges, she also experienced some shifts in her outlook on life.
Don’t hope for too much.
But maybe I could hope for something.
The autumn weather is brisk as we walk a block to a trendy vegan restaurant I know my mother will prefer. I’ll silently suffer through their lack of cheese. The chill temperature has me thinking of North Dakota and all the layers I plan to pack. But I can also rely on Dom and his body to keep me warm. The thought almost brings a smile to my face.
Then we sit down, and Cecilia immediately starts talking. “I think we can both admit I’ve given you long enough for this tantrum to pass. It’s time for you to start thinking of someone other than yourself. You’re not the only one who lost Josh.” She flicks a napkin and settles it on her lap as I gape at her, feeling like I’ve been slapped.
“I-I know that.” I stutter, though to be fair I was very self-focused at the funeral. But since then I’ve grasped how I’m not the only one grieving my brother. Dom sits prominent in my mind.
“Good.” She offers me a sweet smile that looks wrong to me. “I’m looking forward to reading the letters he left you.”
I jerk back so hard my chair almost topples over, and I think I scare our waitress. While Cecilia’s words solidify in my brain, she orders for us, which I don’t entirely mind because I can’t comprehend the idea of eating at the moment.
“What do you mean you’re looking forward to reading his letters? My letters?” I haven’t even read all of them yet.
She huffs a breath and gives me a disappointed look. “Come now, Maddie. I miss my son. I deserve to read what he wrote.”
Already I’m shaking my head. “The notes aren’t for you.” A wave of righteous aggression has me leaning forward with a glare. “Are you going to show me the letter he wrote you?”
For the first time a true emotion breaks through her motherly act. Discomfort. She clears her throat and smooths a hand down her linen shirt. “That was a personal correspondence. I’m his mother. It’s different.”
“The only thing different is I don’t want to read what Josh wrote to you.” And I realize as I say the words, they’re the truth. I’m rabid to read the final two letters from him, even as I’m reluctant to run out of words. But I don’t have the urge to track down the Perry parents to read their note. I haven’t asked Adam or Carter to share theirs. Josh’s words to someone else aren’t what I want. What I need.
What I crave more than anything are the words he left for me.
Me and Dom. But I don’t mind sharing with him. Not anymore.
My mother’s whole face is pinched now, and I’m sure she’d be horrified if her followers saw her like this. “I thought you might have grown up by now. But you’re still doing what you’ve always done.” She shuts her mouth as our salads are delivered.
“And what’s that?” I ask once the waitress is gone. “Respecting Josh’s wishes?”
“Clinging to Josh,” Cecilia snaps, voice low and harsh. “So much so you never bothered to do anything with your life.” I flinch and she rolls her eyes, like my pain only annoys her. “To think I believed having another child might entice your father to stay. But you only drove him away faster. Watching you grow up, I don’t know that I blame him.” She aggressively stabs her lettuce. “Your brother had promise. He was popular and talented, even in high school. And as surly as that Dominic Perry was, he was just as impressive as your brother with all his sports and clubs.” Cecilia sets her fork down with a clank without taking a bite. “And they were always bringing Rosaline around. Beautiful, charismatic, intelligent Rosaline. Do you know what it was like to come home and see her, the perfect daughter?” She goes back to salad stabbing. “Meanwhile, you followed the three of them everywhere. And when you weren’t annoying your brother and his friends, you just sat there with your books. Reading about make-believe worlds instead of living in the real one.”
As my mother goes into what sounds like a prerehearsed speech about how much of an utter disappointment I am, I sit completely still. I’m worried if I move, the jagged spikes of her vitriol will work deeper under my skin. Only by not moving can I avoid fatal internal bleeding.
All my life she’s thrown dismissive, hurtful comments my way, but this is the first time I’m getting a full lecture. As if she came here with the sole intention of breaking me down. Wearing away any bit of self-confidence I’ve built for myself.
What would I have turned into if Cecilia was all I’d ever had?
Without Josh, I’m not sure I would have survived.
“My mother always said if it weren’t for you, your father would have come back.” Cecilia glares at me, and I’m shocked to see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “But he never did. I lost my husband. And I lost my son. First to travel—probably to get some distance from you—and then to cancer.” Finally, she puts food in her mouth, briefly stemming the flow of her condemnation.
“That’s…” I rasp. “That’s not…I didn’t make them leave.”
At least, I don’t think I did.
She swallows and stares at me like I’m a dead fly she found in her food. “Well, you weren’t worth sticking around for, either, were you?”
The statement rings like a too-loud gong in my mind.
This would be an optimal time to cry—when the woman who is supposed to love me unconditionally is pointing out how I drive people away.
This is what she does, I try to remind myself. Acts the saint until she doesn’t get her way.
But when I was growing up, her retaliation wasn’t like this. She was dismissive and would disappear on a random trip. Florence was the one to berate me with harsh words. I wonder if mother and daughter have been spending more time together.
This clarifies something I always had trouble understanding: Florence’s clear dislike for me. But I guess if my grandmother blamed me for the dissolution of her daughter’s marriage, the harsh words she always flung at me make more sense.
But that doesn’t make them right.
And I don’t have to listen to this.
With a jerky move, I stand from my chair.
“Don’t contact me again,” I tell her. “If you do, I will post online all of the horrible things you just said to me. I doubt your followers will be very impressed that you bully your daughter.”
She gasps, but I don’t stay around to hear whatever convoluted defense she comes up with for herself.
And as I walk on shaky legs back to my job, I try not to internalize her criticism. But I can’t hear my voice in my own head. Only hers. I need something to drown out the toxic noise.
I know it’s the middle of his workday, but I still dial Dom’s number as I hide out in the stairwell. I don’t plan on climbing them, but I figure with the elevator working this is likely as much privacy as I can hope for.
The phone rings four times before going to his voicemail. Not wanting to worry him, I leave a quick message. “Hey! Just wanted to say hi. Feel free to ignore this. I’m sure we’ll talk later.” I hang up.
“You followed the three of them everywhere…annoying your brother and his friends…”
But I don’t annoy Dom. He said…In Idaho he said…
I grit my teeth as I try to pull up the beautiful memory, but I only see Dom and Rosaline pulling into the driveway of my childhood home, and Josh sprinting out the front door to hop in the back seat of the car. They drove away, and I hid in my bedroom, wishing I could go with them. The three of them were best friends.
I don’t need to cling to them. My thumb shakes as I swipe through my contacts and find another number.
Jeremy picks up on the second ring. “Thank god you called. My eyes are going to start bleeding if I stare at my screen any longer.”
The greeting immediately relaxes an unforgiving band I hadn’t realized was tightening around my lungs. I breathe easier and manage a not-too-strained voice. “How did I know you needed me? We must have a psychic connection.”
“I’ve always thought so. What am I thinking now?”
More tension in my body loosens as I lean against the cold concrete wall. “Hmm. You’re thinking that you want to binge a new K-drama and eat too much Gouda tonight with me.”
“Amazing. You should have your own circus act with skills like that.” I can hear the smile in my friend’s voice and find comfort in how quickly he signs on to spending time with me.
“You need to pull your weight, sir,” I mock scold him. “Dessert duty.”
“Of course. I’m feeling cannoli. I’m also feeling…” He pauses, and I try not to read into the hesitation. “I’m feeling like you’re upset about something.”
Damn him. Why does he have to be so perceptive?
I clutch the front of my sweater to try to stop the shaking in my hand. Briefly, I consider lying to him. But after the awkward meeting between him and Dom, I’ve been trying to be more honest. Even about uncomfortable things.
“It’s just some drama with my mom. Stuff I’d rather not dwell on.”
Jeremy’s voice is gentle this time. “Okay. I get that. We don’t have to talk about it.” He clears his throat. “But we can,” he offers. “If you want to.”
“I don’t.” I want to forget. “But thank you.”
Jeremy doesn’t take offense to my dismissal, and we set up a time for him to arrive at my place.
Later, when I’m at my desk trying to find the laser focus I had before, my phone rings with Dom’s name. I ignore the call in favor of texting him that I’m trying to finish up my work for the day and I won’t be able to chat later because of my plans with Jeremy.
No reason to feel guilty, I assure myself. I’ll see him in a week.
Everything will be better then.