Page 148 of Give & Take

I fall into the spot next to her, surprisingly emotional as I lean in and feel her familiar warmth. “Thanks, Mom. Forty-one.”

“Such a wee babe.”

“So how long are you here for?”

“Raphael didn’t tell you? Going by what the girls tell me, you two are joined at the hip. The four of you, I mean.”

I swallow, sitting up. “You know, obviously. That he’s not just my nanny.”

“I knew that the moment he sent me an email, a month before your birthday, asking if I’d be available for a video chat.”

“That wouldn’t be so unusual, would it?”

“The way he worded it…it was clear he didn’t look at you as an employer, honey.”

Mom explains how she had asked for a week vacation to surprise me instead of calling, and they’d offered to let her finish early.

“Wait, so you’re back? Officially?”

“Officially, my love.”

I squeeze my mom, my already wobbly composure tipping fast. She lives in Vancouver, so it’s not like she’ll be here every day, but still. She comes up reliably every month. She’ll be back in our lives.

“So, you going to tell me what’s holding you back from going all in on this man?” Mom asks.

I sigh, flopping backward. “Mom. I’m not holding back. I told him I loved him.”

“So you’re going to live happily ever after? Does he know that?”

“Could I go to sleep before we talk about this, Mom?” I’m suddenly too exhausted by the thought of grappling with my biggest fear at three in the morning to think straight.

“You could. But I think this is solvable in five minutes.”

Leave it to Mom to cut right to the chase. I tip my head back on the couch. “I could just go up to bed you know. You couldn’t stop me.”

“I’d follow you.”

I laugh. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

Mom fixes me with a look that saysyou haven’t answered the question.

She sees through me. She knows I’m still hesitating. That I love Raphael. I see him as a part of our family. I can picture a future with him.

But it’s tinged with something painful.

A knowledge, like she says, that I’m not all in.

But I can’t say all this. I can’t put a finger on what it even is. “I don’t know,” I say.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Maybe a little. People are going to think I’m a lonely housewife.”

Mom frowns, and I remember my conversation with Mrs. Brown. With Mac.

“You’re too young to remember most of it, but the people in our lives gave me hell for having you so young.”

“I know.”

---