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“I get it, Mom. I’m falling short as a daughter.” I hate that I’ve hurt my parents through my absence, but have they stopped to maybe consider that it’s because I don’t want to be hurt by going back home? By seeing places and people everywhere I turn that remind me of a life I buried and don’t want to think about ever again?
“You are not failing us. We just wish there was something we could do to help you. I would hate for you to end up alone because you carry around this guilt that you refuse to let go of.”
“Well, I’m pretty used to it by now, so...”
“Aw, Penelope. Jacob would want you to move on, sweetie. He would want you to live and love again.”
Just the mention of his name brings tears to my eyes. This rush of emotions that has broken free from the dam I built to keep it back is hitting me harder and harder lately—and I know exactly who is responsible for it.
“I did meet someone, actually.”
“What?” she practically whispers. “When?”
“It’s complicated and barely a thing, but about a month ago,” I reply, considering mine and Maddox’s first encounter barely a stepping stone for where we are now. Although, the more that I think about it, that night is why I’ve been so hellbent on keeping him at a distance—because he’s the one who broke that dam.
“That’s incredible, baby. And how does he treat you?”
Growing up, my mother always prefaced any conversation about a boy I liked with that question: How does he treat you? Not, is he handsome? Not, does he come from a good family? But, how does he treat you? She said the answer to that question was more important than any other one she would ask next. I remember having this same conversation with her when Jacob moved to town all those years ago.
It’s good to know some things never change.
I smile, thinking about how Maddox’s actions today spoke volumes about the man he is. “He isn’t afraid to let me know how he feels about me, which is refreshing. Obviously, there’s attraction there, but it’s more than that. He’s genuine and funny, and he has a big heart. He actually reminds me a lot of—”
“That’s not a bad thing, Penelope,” she says, cutting me off. “Any woman would be lucky to experience that kind of love twice in her life.”
I scoff. “Yeah, well, we’re not anywhere close to love. I’m just... feeling things out for right now.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Hell, my motherly heart is bursting at the seams just knowing that you’re opening yourself up again.”
“It’s proving to be more difficult than I thought, but I’m trying, Mom.”
“That’s all you can do, honey.” Her sigh fills the line. “Gosh, I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Maybe I need to make a trip out to California so we can spend some time together, just the two of us. Now that your father has retired, he’s driving me a little mad.” We share a laugh. “Or you could come here, you know?”
“I’m going to be very busy until the season starts, Mom. And I have no idea what my job might look like after that.”
I can feel her sigh of disappointment. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. But don’t be shocked if I show up on your doorstep unannounced soon.”
“I’ll be ready for your hug.”
“I love you, Penelope.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
“Keep me updated on this man.”
I scoff. “Yeah. Okay.”
When I hang up with my mom, my stomach lets out a growl just as the doorbell rings. Once I pay for my sushi, I grab a pair of chopsticks from the bag and dig in, standing at my kitchen island as I look out the window over my sink. The complex my townhouse is in has a courtyard in the middle of the units with a swimming pool, and a few families are out there enjoying the evening, unseasonably warm for this early in May in Los Angeles.
I finish my meal, grab my phone off the charger, and settle back into the couch, scouring Netflix for something to watch when an icon for a movie containing Robert Downey, Jr.’s face pops up on my screen, halting my scrolling.
“Damn, he looks young here.” I click on the picture and read the description forU.S. Marshalls, a film RDJ did in 1998. His face is free of scruff and he definitely looks young enough here that I could be with him—or his dad, if you know what I mean. But it’s RDJ, so you know my curiosity is piqued.
However, I barely get through the opening credits when my phone rings once more, and a number that looks familiar flashes across the screen.
