Page 106 of The Defender
I deflated, too surprised and gratified by his apology to hold on to my lingering anger.
Our conversation was calmer than I’d expected it to be, especially compared to our recent talks. But our emotions hadbeen running high during those clashes, and there wasn’t much to do after the storm except clean up the debris.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m also sorry for all the secrets I kept from you the past few months. Hopefully, we can learn to, um, communicate better in the future.”
“Sure.”
We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.
“The dinner we had a few months ago. I enjoyed it,” my dad said, somewhat stiffly. “We should do it more often.”
I smiled, a long-held knot loosening in my gut. “I’d like that.”
We gradually switched to talking about other topics—the latest blockbuster film, my trip to Budapest, our mutual loathing of creepy holiday elves. It felt stilted at times, but it was progress.
Between Vincent and my dad, I started to feel like life was looking up again—until my phone rang. I checked the caller ID, my stomach plummeting.
“Who is it?” my dad asked.
“It’s Mom.” My voice betrayed my shock.
I couldn’t remember the last time she called without warning. Actually, I couldn’t remember the last time she called, period. She was more of a text person. Less obligation to make small talk that way.
My dad’s lips curled like he’d smelled something rotten. “I’ll let you two chat. I should head out anyway. I have some paperwork to take care of.”
We said a quick goodbye before I picked up. As the door closed behind him, part of me was worried my mom had an emergency. That was the only reason I could think of for an unscheduled call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, darling,” she sang. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” I instantly went on alert. Okay, she wasn’t in the middle of a disaster, but her cheerfulness alarmed me more. Nothing good ever came after that singsong tone. “You’re calling early.”
“Oh, I got up early because our nanny is off for the rest of the month and Charlie was making a fuss. Weren’t you, sweetie? Yes, you were.” My mother cooed at him for a full two minutes before she remembered I was on the phone. “Anyway, I’m calling because my C-section is scheduled for January—I’m sure I already told you that—and I’d love for you to be at the birth. Your new half-sibling is almost here! Isn’t that exciting?”
My jaw dropped. Was she serious? “No, you didn’t tell me that. Didn’t youjustget pregnant?”
“What? Of course not.” She laughed. “I’m eight months along, Brooklyn. I thought you knew.”
“You didn’t tell me you were expecting until two months ago!”
“That can’t be true.”
“I have your text date stamped in my messages.”
“Oh, well…” My mother sounded out of breath. The faint roar of the ocean filled the background. “I’ve been so busy with Charlie and Harry that I lost all track of time. Did I tell you Harry got promoted to president of his company? Between that, the pregnancy, and the bathroom remodel, I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”
“It must be hard to be married to a corporate executive,” I deadpanned.
“It truly is.” My sarcasm went right over her head. “Regardless, I was already twelve weeks along when I found out I was pregnant. You know my periods are irregular and I didn’t—Charlie, don’t wave at strangers, dear.No.They could be bad people. What was I saying? Oh, yes, my birth. You should come. London in January is miserable anyway, and it wassogreathaving you around when Charlie was born. No one gets me like you do.”
All the warmth from my conversation with my dad evaporated. “I can’t just fly to California on a whim.”
“Why not? You moved to London on a whim.”
“It wasn’t on a whim. I applied to jobs here months before…you know what? Never mind.” I pinched my brow. The beginnings of a headache blossomed behind my temple. “Text me the details. I’ll see what I can do.”
Arguing with my mom was like arguing with a brick wall. She never backed down until she got her way.
