Page 37 of Words We Didn't Say

No point delaying the inevitable.

Mum must have heard me walking up the driveway. The front door flew open, and she burst outside.

“Hello! We’re so excited to finally—” Her smile vanished.

I avoided seeing her disappointment by pulling her against me in a hug. “Morning, Ma.” I kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled just like it did when I was a kid—a bit heavy on the floral. Her once-treasured auburn curls were only wisps of soft silver barely touching her ears now, slowly growing back after finishing chemo.

“Where’s Eden?” Mum lifted her glasses and peered over my shoulder. There was nothing to see but my car parked out front. “Did she forget something?”

I shook my head.

“Oh.” Mum’s face fell. “It’s justyou?”

“Afraid so.”

“Zachary, you promised!”

Zachary. Ouch. I was in trouble. “Sorry, Ma.” I followed her inside, flinching at the snap of the front door closing behind me.

“Your dad even wore his nice shirt with the collar. He grumbled the whole bloody time he was buttoning it up!” Mum glanced at me over her shoulder as she marched through the living room. “Did Eden end up having to work today? The poor girl’s flat out! You know I follow her salon on the DL—”

“The…DL?”

“The downlow. Our neighbour’s little granddaughter taught me. Not important. Anyway, Eden does a tonne of celebrity weddings. She’s booked out for months!” Mum excitedly rattled off some names I vaguely recognised. “And Eden has such incredible taste in fashion. Did you see how her outfit for thegala dinner went viral? Best dressed! I wanted to get her opinion on my new sandals.” Mum popped her foot out to model a black sandal with strappy bits up to her ankles.

Too much information was flooding in. When did Eden go to a gala dinner? Oh, and sandals. “I like them, Ma.”

Mum snorted. “You wouldn’t notice a decent sandal if one hit you on the head!” She paused at the kitchen sink, her hand landing on her hip, studying me from head to toe, always seeing too much. Her eyes narrowed on my fidgeting hands. “Will Eden have time to pop over next week?”

“Ma…”

“It doesn’t have to be lunch. If she’s busy, we could all catch up for breakfast. There are so many charming spots near your apartment. I could convince your dad to drive into the city—”

“Ma, Eden’s not…” I shook my head. “She’s not coming.”

“Now? Or…?”

Never.

I couldn’t say the word out loud.

Whatever emotion Mum saw on my face made her gaze drop to the sink. She nodded, swiping at her nose. She knew.

My heart dropped. My screw-up had made my mother cry. “Ma—”

She waved me off. “Everything’s under control for lunch.” She sniffled. “Why don’t you go help your dad with the barbecue?”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order. Mum didn’t want an audience when she stood over the sink crying about how I’d ruined my life. I bent down and pecked a kiss on Mum’s head. She flashed me a watery smile and then shooed me outside.

I pushed open the screen door. Potted herbs cluttered the deck, leaving just enough room for the oversized outdoor table, chairs, and the barbecue where Dad kept himself out of trouble. His hair was threaded with more grey than brown these days, and for once, it was neatly combed back. Along with wearingthe collared shirt he kept tugging at, Mum had bribed him into doing his hair, too.

Dad’s thick brows knitted when the screen door snapped shut. He sent a questioning look past me into the kitchen, wondering why he wasn’t being introduced to Eden, but he shook off the confusion. After a quick hug to say hello, he returned to the barbecue.

“Thought you’d be helping with the salad,” he said.

A fair assumption. I usually spent more time in the kitchen with Mum than daring to interfere with Dad’s expert hands on any form of protein. He considered cooking meat an art form. He watched TV shows about it and everything.

“Apparently, you need a helper,” I replied.

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