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“Mia,” a voice calls, and we turn to find Sasha and Brook waiting for us.
“Girls, you both look beautiful. I’m Temperance, Mia’s mom. I’m so happy you could join us.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Thompson.” Sasha smiles, but it’s strained.
“Please, call me, Temperance.”
“Tempie—can I call you Tempie? I just love your pant suit. It really compliments your eyes.”
“Well, thank you Brook. What a lovely thing to say.”
Brook catches my eyes and smirks. I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to groan.
“Mrs. Thompson.” The maître d’ approaches us. “Your table is ready.”
“Girls, shall we?” Mom ushers us inside. Sasha casts me a bemused glance; she looks as pleased to be here as I am.
Brook takes my mom’s arm and they walk into the restaurant together.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Sasha hisses under her breath.
“Can you try and play nice? For my mom’s sake?” My expression softens.
“This is crazy, you realize that, right?”
“My mom invited her.” I shrug. “I couldn’t exactly send her away.”
“That’s exactly what you should have done.”
“Let’s just get through lunch. Hopefully Brook will play nice.”
“This is Brook we’re talking about.”
“Girls?” Mom glances back at us dawdling behind. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine, Mom. Let’s sit.” I make sure to plant myself between Sasha and Mom. Annabel sits between Sasha and Brook, and Brook revels in being next to my mom.
“I just love the food here. It’s always so well-cooked.” Brook plucks her menu off the table and studies it as if this is completely normal. As if we’re all just friends doing lunch.
“What do you fancy, sweetheart?” Mom asks me, and I shrug. My appetite has been missing since I woke up this morning and realized what day it was.
“Just a salad,” I reply without looking at the menu.
“With the salmon?”
“Sure, Mom.” I swallow over the lump in my throat.
“Have whatever you like, girls. Mia’s father is kindly picking up the tab.”
My stomach drops at the mention of Dad.
“Mia, darling, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Pre-Coglio jitters, I bet,” Brook whispers, flashing me a conspiratorial wink as she takes a sip of her champagne.
“Of course.” Mom pats my hand. “It is a big night for you.” She chuckles. “I remember it well—my wedding night, of course. Your father and I were up all—”
“Okay, Mom. Nobody needs to hear yours and Dad’s sex stories.”
