That was her freakin’ job as a mother. And if she took the new role at work she would very likely end up even busier. There just weren’t enough hours in the fucking day. But their words did give her pause.
“You should take the job, Mom. You earned it. And even if things get even more hectic, well, I’ll come home for weekends, and Mason will help out more around the house.”
Mason snorted and waved his cast. “I’m decrepit.”
“I don’t think that’s the word you’re looking for Mase.” Cat ruffled his hair, and Clare’s heart almost imploded. The older they got the closer they grew. As much as she—sometimes—missed the days of their teasing and chasing each other around the house, this…this was so much nicer.
“You always tell us that we gotta try. If we don’t try, we’ll never know. If you don’t take the new job and give it a try, you’ll never know if it’s what you always dreamed of.”
She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Mason look quite so smug. She hated when they turned her words back against her, but they also really did have a point. Even if she hated the new role, she would know and could work toward something else in its place, instead of always wondering what if.
“Are you going to take it?” Cat’s hard, level gaze was one Clare herself had practiced for decades. It was one of determination and so full of confidence and inherent belief that Clare couldn’t bring herself to say no.
But she also made a point of never lying to her kids. As she stood next to them, she stared at the pictures on the wall—Catriona’s first steps, Mason’s first goal in hockey, family picnic in the park when they got soaked in the rain. Tracing her fingers over snapshots from over the years, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do more than make her kids proud of her.
Her fingers stopped on a worn, creased piece of pink paper next to a picture of Clare’s first ever picture holding Cat in her arms. “Where did you get this?”
“You left it on the dining table. I almost threw it out. It looked so old and out of place. I’m glad I opened it.”
It was the letter she’d written to herself that Elliott had given her over lunch that day he stopped by. The last line of the letter said:Do the scary things, Clare. You can do it all.
She had always been a lead-by-example kind of person, and she was going to lead by motherfucking example and do the hard and scary thing.
Catriona arched a brow. “That’s not an answer, Mom. Are you going to take it?” She planted her hands on her hips again and cocked her head as though she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Stomach flipping, Clare pulled her phone from her butt pocket and nodded. “I’ll call him right now and tell him. I mean, he won’t be working right now, but I’ll leave him a message, okay?”
Both kids nodded, but didn’t move.
“Frank, it’s Clare. I’m just calling to let you know that I’d love to take the manager role if it’s still available. Uh. That’s it. Talk soon. Thanks.” She hated leaving voicemails for her boss. One time, she’d gotten so flustered that she’d told him she loved him at the end of the message and she couldn’t look him in the eye for two months.
Cat and Mason fist-bumped each other and hissed “yessss!”
“Do you feel better now?” Cat threw her arms around Clare.
“I feel a bit sick to be honest.”
“Then let’s open some wine.” As Cat guided her back to the kitchen Mason followed behind. “Doesn’t wine cure everything?”
Who could argue with that logic? “Not everything, but it’s a start.”
“Mom? Can we go to another Snow Pirates game?” Mason’s wide and hopeful eyes pleaded with her as they walked.
“Don’t you want your dad to take you? That’s always been your thing, kiddo.”
She tossed a glance over her shoulder as she descended the stairs, and his little face was like he’d bitten into a slice of lemon. “It’s cooler when you do it. He doesn’t know people like you know people. Y’know?”
She did know. Her heart both swelled and shattered at the same time.
“Theo says he can take me skating again soon.” The excitement in his voice was contagious, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“That’s great, Mase. And sure, let’s get some tickets for another game, okay?”
“Tomorrow?”
She wasn’t ready to see Elliott quite so soon, but the hope in Mason’s voice forced her to steady her nerves. When they got to the kitchen she turned to face him. “Please, Mom? I miss the smell of the ice.” His gloomy face cracked her heart into another gazillion pieces.
“I know you do, kiddo.” She paused for a minute and skimmed her finger down the page of the calendar on the fridge. “It looks like we’re free tomorrow, so I can’t see why not.” Other than not wanting to lay eyes on the fucking coach of the team, anyway.
