AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I blinked at him, unable to relate at all to what he was saying. Theo quickly changed the subject.
“Anyway, I was hoping to buy you lunch or a drink or whatever takes the least amount of time for you to consume since I’m sure you’d like to limit your time with me.” He tried that nervous laugh again. “I just really need a moment to give a proper apology. For what happened with Nick and what happened… back then.”
Theo Spencer was being self-deprecating. I’d never seen it before. I tried to process that and tell myself that everything was still perfectly fine. My panic before had been a product of my imagination. Nothing was wrong. I’d just had the best morning of my life and now I had the opportunity to put one part of my past officially behind me. It was clear to me that I was in need of burying the bad memories.
“Okay,” I finally said.
Theo’s shoulders dropped with relief. “God. Awesome. Lunch or drinks?”
“Coffee.”
“Whatever you say.”
I managed something like a laugh as we headed for the closest café. I’d never heard Theo say those words before.
Chapter Eleven
Callum
It was going to take awhile to get used to my mother’s new look. She was always strikingly beautiful with the kind of sharp cheekbones and bright eyes that shone through even her worst depressions. Her episodes were bad after Lake left, but never bad enough for her to stop smiling for me. Her blonde hair went grey and she didn’t often leave the house but when I let her see me, she always gave me the most dazzling smile. The same one she wore when she woke Lake up on Sunday mornings and waltzed her down the hall, hand-in-hand, cheek-to-cheek – their little pre-brunch tradition to celebrate homemade waffles, danced to the tune of old jazz. It took every ounce of her energy to give me that smile but she mustered it up for me every time because she knew that whatever pain she felt with Lake gone, I was feeling the same.
It was the reason I distanced myself and saw her less as the years went by. Then again, I distanced myself from most people who knew Lake. People who would talk about her, remind me of her in some way. My mother was the biggest offender. She couldn’t resist reminiscing about Lake as if she were just some daughter who’d traveled across the world on vacation. She still talked about adopting “another girl.” She’d look at a necklace in a window and muse about how nice it’d look on Lake and it drove me insane.
So I took care of her from afar. After my dad divorced her, I’d sworn to myself that she’d never want for a thing. I kept to that promise. But it was by sending her money, paying to have the bathroom redone, booking her lavish vacations. I saw her on occasion, usually with others, because that gave her no chance to tell me that she wanted to try looking again. She’d done it once before, confessing that she’d spent the past week searching for Lake on Facebook and every other social media platform that she taught herself how to navigate. So I stopped seeing her.
It wasn’t something I felt good about. I hated avoiding my mother. I missed her and it felt as if I had been since Lake disappeared. She hadn’t been the same person since that morning but I told myself that the distance was for the better. We were saner without our combined memories of Lake. I justified the way I skirted her and ignored her calls. I sunk myself into work. I rearranged my values and morals – my thoughts, my heart and my entire life after Lake left.
And I’d never felt guiltier about it as I walked into Broome Street Kitchen to meet my mother for lunch. I realized it was the first time in eight months that I’d seen my mother one-on-one, despite the fact that we lived in the
same city. I laughed and shook my head when I reached her table. She was already beaming because she knew she’d been aging rapidly backwards since Lake’s return. Her hair was down and flipped to cover the grey and her skin glowed in a way I hadn’t seen since I was a kid. She’d stopped wearing jewelry when Lake left – I’d just figured Lake took it all – but now she was adorned with all those bright, sparkling pieces I grew up seeing her wear. She looked practically in her thirties again.
“You look just as happy as I do,” she said as she hugged me tight. “See the effect she has on people? I even saw it at dinner. She was a star. The belle of the ball!”
I gave a strained smile as I took a seat at our booth. There were two cappuccinos and no menus on the table. “You’ve already ordered?”
“Of course. I want to get straight to talking about her. Is she having a wonderful time?” Mom’s blue eyes gleamed hopefully at me but she frowned fast when I laughed and shook my head at her. “Callum Pike, you promised you’d report back with every detail, now tell me what’s going on with my girl. I want to be briefed on how it’s been before I meet her for dinner.” She smoothed the napkin on her nap and pursed her lips self-consciously. “I’m very nervous. I’m afraid we won’t have anything to talk about anymore.”
“That’s crazy. You’ve always been best friends.”
“You two have always been best friends. So you know everything.” She touched the back of her hair and lowered her voice. “No one’s been mean to her or anything, right?”
“You do realize we’re all adults, right? It’s not high school anymore.”
“I’m well aware of the time that’s passed, Callum, but time doesn’t always change feelings and you two did make a few enemies together. Enemies who still live in Manhattan,” she said, raising her eyebrows as she sipped her espresso.
“I’m keeping her away from any of that.”
“Good. We need to keep all the negativity at bay because I don’t think I’ve been this overjoyed in…” She threw her hands in the air. Manicured. They hadn’t been in awhile. “Oh, I don’t know how long! It’s immeasurable. But I can tell you I haven’t taken any of the,” she lowered her voice, “you know.”
I looked up from the cocktail list. “Pills?”
“Sh!” Ten years she’d been taking antidepressants but she still acted like it was some shameful coke habit. “But yes. I’ve… quit them,” she said with a flutter of her fingers.
“Really. No withdrawal symptoms?”
“Bit of a stomach bug, but I heard that’s normal. I don’t care. I’ll brave it. I have to. I tossed out the whole bottle.”
“Mom, that’s… amazing,” I said, though I felt my throat tighten instantly after. As grateful as I was for the news, I couldn’t help being uneasy about the fact that my mother pinned all her hope for joy on Lake being home. I clenched my jaw, shifting in my seat as the salads arrived.
