Page 48 of The Roads We Follow

But as soon as I step off the curb, I feel his hand secure my wrist and soon he’s spun me around to face him again. “Raegan ...Lynn?” he says in a husky tone I feel all the way to my toes. “Your middle name is Lynn?”

“Raegan,please,” Hattie calls out her window. “My kids are calling me in eleven minutes.”

“Yes,” I answer as I slip my hand from his and climb into the back seat of the town car. The instant I’m situated, I rotate in my seat to stare out the back window where Micah stands bracing the back of his neck with both hands, watching us drive away.

Dinner was chaotic. Not only did we arrive late for our reservation at a five-star steakhouse, but Hattie’s only quiet option for a phone call with her kids was in the powder room. Nobody thought twice when she missed the appetizer, but when her sizzling entrée had gone cold, worry began to creep its way into my subconscious. I was just about to go in search of her when she slid back into her seat with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. When I leaned in to ask her what had happened on the call, she shook her head and promptly ordered a glass of red wine.

Despite Mama’s many attempts to start a conversation with the three of us regarding something about her future dreams for us as a family, she was interrupted nearly every thirty seconds by a patron kindly asking her for a selfie and telling her how much “Crossing Bridges” has meant to them for some reason or another.

Mama never refuses a fan.

“I told you to wear your wig and hat inside the restaurant,” Adele mutters after another round of pictures and fanfare. “You do realize you’ll be followed for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Mama says, pattingher eldest’s hand. “There’s sure to be a big crowd at Carter’s Ballroom; I’ll be able to blend in just fine there.”

I meet Adele’s gaze from across the table and know we share the same unvoiced opinion. Mama has never “blended in” anywhere in her entire life. It’s literally the opposite of who she is.

“Carter’sis where you want to go tonight?” Adele whispers sharply. “You knew I sent two of our senior talent agents out this way last month. If you would’ve told me you were interested in a nostalgic visit, I would have made all the necessary arrangements for you. Starting with a security team. That venue has a reputation for getting rowdy.” She exhales and sets her napkin on the table with a definitive “I think we should postpone.”

Mama chuckles dismissively. “Nonsense. I happen to know the main act tonight, and she’s brilliant. Trust me, you won’t want to miss it. I’m thinking of recommending her to our label, but I was hoping to get your professional opinion first.”

Adele pulls back as if Mama just spoke the magic words to solve all problems:“I was hoping to get yourprofessional opinion first.”

“Fine, but you have to swear you’ll wear your wig and stay close to us for the duration of the evening. The last thing we need is a mob. You’re headlining a festival in just over a week, remember?”

Mama crosses herself. “I solemnly swear to blend in.”

Adele sighs. “Just keep your wig on,please.”

As soon we stand from the table and Adele’s back is turned, Mama makes her hand into a puppet and mimics her oldest daughter’s final request.

“Careful what you do behind my back, mother,” Adele warns in a low voice. “There are roughly a dozen iPhones filming us at the moment.”

Instantly, Mama’s puppet mouth morphs into a pageant queen’s wave as she pauses to blow kisses to every table on our way out. Whistles and applause follow us.

So much for blending in.

It’s not until we’re being escorted from the town car for a secondtime that evening and walking through the back door of a historical music hall that I realize Hattie’s despondency hasn’t lifted. She hasn’t muttered a single word since we left the restaurant.

I allow Mama and Adele to pass me by at the entrance of the venue, then hook my arm through Hattie’s. The thumping bass line of a driving melody is already ear-poundingly loud from back here, and I know from experience the volume will be ten times more abrasive once we get on the other side of the speakers.

“Hey.” I stop her from passing through the barrier. “What’s going on with you?”

She stares at the black curtain in front of us but says nothing.

“Hattie, talk to me.” My hold on her tightens as fear seeps in. “We don’t even have to go in there. I can order us a rideshare back to the hotel if you want.”

Slowly, her eyes focus on mine. “What I want is a night off from my life. Can you give me that, Raegan? Can you give me one night where I can forget all the ways my life is a dumpster fire right now?”

I peer into her face. “Did Peter do some—”

“I don’t want to talk about Peter!Please.” Her voice breaks on the word. “Just let me be tonight.” She begins to walk ahead when she suddenly twists back. “And for once, don’t let Adele bully you into babysitting me.”

I’m so startled by the accusation I struggle for words. “That’s not what—”

“Thatisexactly what happens. I know she’s the one who sends you to stay with me on the weekend when my kids are at Peter’s, and how she asks you to keep tabs on my every move through the stupid tracking app she insists on. Don’t defend her.”

“I’m not trying to defend her. She’s just worried about you.”We all are, is what I don’t say. “She cares.”

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