Page 47 of The Likelihood Of You

Luckily, I’d just sat down with my Mom at the dog park, and afternoons like this when the park is full will always be one of my favourite things. The October sun is like a blanket on my skin, thawing out the bad thoughts that have iced over. There’s so much going on that it’s easy for me to forget the shit show that was waiting for me once I left.

Also, Bagel is such a social little lady, and she’s so friendly; she attracts dogs just like her, and if I could let her do this all day, I would.

“Jacob, I’m taking her home with me; she’s just an angel!” Mom glows, her words breaking through the quiet chaos the dogs were causing just before us.

I met Mom at the entrance to the park, reaching up her short arms as best she could to hug me; at that moment, a mom hug was the equivalent of a hot lemon and honey drink when you’ve got tonsillitis, soothing your soul.

I was lucky to have such a good relationship with my parents. One where our catch-up dinners and weekends I'd come to visit were full of warmth and memories and not an ounce of judgement. Nowadays, it’s rare to meet someone whose parents were still happily married or married in general. But my parents’ flame has never once been dimmed, and I loved that for them.

They met in college, both on the same culinary course and bonded over their love of wanting to be patisserie chefs one day. Twenty-eight years later, they have one of the highest-rated bakery chains on the East Coast.

I turn to face her, turning the brim of my cap to the back of my head to see her better, only to be greeted by the oh-so-lady-like sight of her chowing down on her apple pie. I brought Mom and myself acoffee and a slice of apple pie from Pins on my way over, so we were both tucking into them whilst watching Bagel prance about.

“Talk me through the name choice again, sweetie.” She says, wiping the sugar and crumbs from the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t know.” I say with a chuckle, “It was the only name in a long list of names that stood out. I wasn’t going to name her something boring like Fluffy or Patch. So Bagel it was.”

“Itdoessuit her, I’ll give you that.” She took another bite of her nearly gone pie. “She’s the prettiest Bagel ever. Prettier than an everything bagel with avocado and cream CHEESE!” She says that last part all happy and high-pitched, because she notices Bagel running towards us. “Hey, Bagel. Hey girl.” Mom cooed cheerfully, whilst trying to protect her pie from Bagel’s wild jaw.

A stream of laughs escapes from her mouth, along with a collection of “Ows” and “Arghs” as she tries to defend herself from her first Bagel ambush.

Julie Emerson wasn’t a big person. She’s fifty-one, around five-three, with a head full of light brown spiral curls, so Bagel might as well be a horse right now with their size difference.

“Bagel, calm down, you doughnut.” I try to calm her down with a few strokes of her head, and she eases off my Mom slowly.

“Jacob, pick a pastry, honey. You’ll confuse her if you call her different types of baked dough.” She managed.

I let a chuckle slip from my lips while I grab the portable water bowl from my backpack that’s resting against the park bench, pouring some water into it for the giddy bear that’s still buzzing around our feet.

Turning back towards Mom, I carry on our catch-up. “So, how are you? How’s Mom? How’s the business going?”

She settles her spine back against the bench, before letting out a rush of air. “Mom’s good. The company has plans for another extension that should be complete within the next six months. It’s something your Mom’s been planning for a while, so she’s thrilled that it’s all finally happening. She’s wanted a store over on the West Coast for a while now, and says those L.A. folk will flip over the new vegan carrot cake cookies we’ve introduced in Boston.

"Speaking of Boston, we’ve just signed the lease for a space up in Somerville, so we have two little Boston shops now. How exciting! I think we mentioned the whole grand opening, are you still able to make it?”

“I had Charlie blackout the dates in my schedule, I can't wait to see it, Mom.”

We dash each other mirrored grins, before basking in that easy silence, the kind where you know filling the empty spaces is unnecessary. I’d felt that a lot with Florence lately, that there was no pressure to talk away the quiet moments, to waste them.

“Gosh, I feel like I’ve not seen you in forever, Jacob. Tell me everything.” She finishes the last crumbs of her pie and places the container next to her on the bench, then shuffles around to face me, with every bit of enthusiasm and sunlight beaming on her face.

The first thing that came to mind was that text from Darcie, but I wasn’t up for spilling any of that with Mom just yet. Even though bitching about the woman who mistook my heart for a key into stardom would be a topic both of my Moms would gladly do any time of day.

“Well, my agent emailed me about a role in a rom-com that’s due to start filming in February, and said that the casting director asked forme personally. Apparently, I have heartthrob potential.” My Mom lets out a giggle while nodding. “Anyway, I ended up booking that role, so it’ll be nice to have a few months to myself before that starts.” I watch her smile go hazy, and her eyes widen at the mention of me doing a rom-com. “And apparently, we’re due to finish filming next Friday, so that’s good.”

“Oh, amazing! Are you doing anything to celebrate sweetie?”

“Nate’s throwing us a private wrap party on Friday. We have the official one in a couple of weeks with the entire team, but this is purely just for me, Nate, Adaline and—”

As I’m about to mention Florence, I catch myself. I never discussed the notion of dating again with anyone, let alone my parents. “And..um.”

She looks at me with confusion spread over her face, her head tilting and brows pulling together. “Who, honey?”

“Um,” My God, why have I lost the ability to speak? If I can’t even talk to my Mom about her, how on earth have I managed several interactionswithher? I didn’t even struggle this much when I told her I wasn’t sorry for kissing her.

If you’re going to speak again, Jacob, for the love of God, don’t think about kissing her.

I take in a shallow breath. “And Florence.”

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