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“We’re going to each get the chopped salads, dressing on the side, please, and then the burrata pizza,” I instruct. “Also, do you have a decaf iced tea?”
The man nods.
“Great, I’ll have that with a lemon. Mom, what would you like?”
My mother turns to the man and smiles. “Bring us a bottle of champagne. It seems we have some celebrating to do.”
I roll my eyes. Of course, she’s excited by this. She thinks I’m back with Steven and having his baby. God, she’s in for a surprise.
“Mom, I can’t have champagne.” I motion to my stomach.
“A little bubbly never hurt anyone. You can have a little to toast this amazing news. I’ll drink the rest.”
Now that sounds more like the woman I remember from my childhood. I sigh an assent to the waiter, and he disappears.
“So how did this all happen? Last time we spoke, you and Steven weren’t even on speaking terms.”
I laugh because this is ridiculous. The last time she and I spoke, my mother and I weren’t on speaking terms either.
“Steven and I still aren’t on speaking terms. We’re officially divorced,” I say proudly. It gives me immense pleasure to see my mom’s reaction to this. She winces as if she thinks this baby is his and I haven’t told him. I’m nothing like her though. I would never hide my child from her father. “I met someone else, and we are very happy together.”
My mother nods. “Well, I hope you don’t mean Jonathan, because I saw he’s engaged, and another affair is not what you need.”
“I didn’t have an affair, Mother. I was neverwithJonathan. Steven had the affair.”
“Right. Well, then who is he?”
“His name is Cash. He’s a good man.” I decide not to divulge that he’s Cash James. If she has any inkling as to who he is, she doesn’t reveal her thoughts.
“Right. Well, that’s good. So how far along are you?”
Instinctively, my hand goes to my bump. “Halfway. She’s due at the end of May.”
My mother’s face tightens, and she stares down at my stomach. “She?”
“Yes, Mom, I’m having a girl. Cash and I found out on Christmas Eve. It was quite a surprise.” I smile at the memory.
The waiter delivers our drinks, and we wait while he opens the bottle and then pours the champagne into two glasses. When he leaves, she motions to my glass which I pick up out of obligation. She raises hers and looks at me. “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Grace. I’ve disappointed and hurt you.” I’m surprised to find emotion in her eyes as she speaks. Her brown eyes fill with grief, and I reach across the table to squeeze her hand. “I’m hoping we can have another chance. That you’ll give me a chance to be better, and to get to know my granddaughter,” she says softly, looking down at my stomach again. “Cheers, darling, may you be a better mother than I was and your daughter be just as wonderful as you have always been.”
My throat grows tight as I clink my glass against hers. “Cheers,” I reply hoarsely, overwhelmed and emotional that I may actually get another second chance, not just at love, not just at work, but with my own mother as well. Is it possible that I can actually have it all?
