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“Oh. Hey there.” Her face registered only distant surprise as her gaze washed over me. She wore the standard red polo shirt required at the local fried chicken restaurant, under a tan fur-lined coat. She’d been manager there for the past four years. “Didn’t think you’d be coming around these parts again.”
“Good to see you, Tara,” I forced out.
“Jeremy, I’m dropping Mom’s bags off, okay?” she called out. Jeremy’s muffled agreement sounded from the back of the house.
“What did he say?” Tara asked, more to herself than to me.
“Is mom coming here?” I asked.
“That’s the plan. She’ll stay in the spare room.” Tara stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat.
The spare room. Where I’d slept last night and had thought to continue staying. “Good to know.”
Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and Jeremy showed up a moment later, still tucking his work shirt into his jeans. “Hey, Tara. We all doing dinner tonight then?”
“Yeah. Gotta run. See you at six.” Tara pushed open the front door and hurried back to her car, which sat idling in the driveway.
I looked over at Jeremy with wide eyes. “Mom’s coming to stay here then?”
He grimaced. “I meant to tell you…”
“It’s fine. I can go somewhere else.”
“Well, we wanted to talk to you about that.” Jeremy checked his phone, then he swore under his breath. “I’m running late, Jessa. Listen, we’re all gonna have dinner tonight. You, me, Tara, mom, the kids.” Our father was usually not included when mom was around. Kinda like how I wished I wasn’t included either. “We’ll have a nice family meal. Talk everything out.”
I watched him go, caught between dumbfounded and irritated. There was nothing to talk out. Unless they had plans for my life again. Plans that I never agreed to.
I spent most the day sketching and working on my portfolio while I watched reruns ofFriends.The show had always been a favorite, but the slice of 90s New York was more comforting to me than usual.
Because that big, crazy city felt like home to me now. Less than six months living there and I’d fallen for its chaos, its insanity, its never-ending surprises and fascinations.
Not only that—I’d fallen for one of its premier inhabitants. Damian Fairchild.
I’d spent too much of my tenure at Fairchild Enterprises imagining our perfect Manhattan life together. We’d even lived it, briefly. Walking hand-in-hand along the High Line. Attending galas. Make-out sessions in elegant hallways. Trying new foods together, then rushing off to a hotel room around the corner.
My heart ached. The city was inextricably linked with Damian, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to inhabit Manhattan without lamenting the love I’d almost grasped with the one man who had forever carried a piece of my heart.
I’d loved him from afar for almost fifteen years. What was another fifteen?
As I sank deeper into my thoughts and feels, sadness bubbled to the surface.
We’d been so good together. That was the part that hurt the worst. All my fantasies and expectations had been wildly surpassed.
Until it came to the long-term. Until it came to trust.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I sketched a long ball gown. I reached for my colored pencils, alternating between filling in the shades of gray I’d chosen and fanning my eyes to dry the tears. I had to believe that I was doing the right thing in the right way. This was the only path that seemed natural. The only path that seemed right.
But what if I was doing things all wrong?
Maybe I’d been expecting too much out of life. Trying for too lucky a hand. Trying to squeeze mimosas out of sour oranges.
Mom and Jeremy showed up just after the girls had gotten home from school. My insides tightened as they always did when I spotted her, a response I couldn’t control after a lifetime at her side. Her dark hair had been bleached blonde a while ago; dark roots had grown out by several inches. Her limp ponytail hung over one shoulder as she came toward the house, smoking a cigarette and frowning down at the ground.
Jeremy came into the house, Mom right behind him. She blew out a big puff of smoke as she stepped in.
“There’s my baby girl,” she said in her smoker’s rasp. She came my way for a hug, which I accepted stiffly. She gripped my shoulder hard enough to hurt. “You been good?”
“Mm-hmm.” I waved my hand to disperse the cloud of cigarette smoke. “Mom, the girls are in here. Smoke outside.”
