Page 124 of Until I Have You

“So.”My mother puts my phone down, screen side on the bar so that I can’t get distracted by any incoming notifications.Not that I have many these days.“What’s heavy on you today?”

I shrug my shoulders, not drawing my focus from my fries.“What isn’t?”

“Oh, Abigail…”

I roll my eyes.“It’s not that deep.”

“Of course it is.You’re always sour-faced these days.”

I’ve told my mother that Dad and I aren’t speaking.And she’s not too nosy.Says that she knows how hard it was to have my grandmother in her business all the time, so she doesn’t want to pry.

She hasn’t asked too much about the circumstances.She knows my dad, knows his history of hard-headedness.After all, the two of them were together for nearly a decade.

However, by her question, it’s evident she’s tired of waiting around for me to give her the scoop.

“What happened with your dad, hm?”

Telling her what happened with Dad means I have to tell her about Theo.And I don’t want to talk about it.I’ve sealed away the past five months in the attic of my mind, intent on forgetting them.I’ve chalked them up to…mistakes.

I was a fool to think Theo was different than other men, a fool to think we could find a place for us in the world together, and a fool to believe I was meant for that.

For…love.

That’swhy I don’t want to face it.Facing it means dealing with that pesky little word, four letters that somehow encompass the entire meaning of life.At least according to some people.

My life doesn’t have to be about love.My life can be about work and research and saving the planet.

I know it can.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”I drag a fry through a puddle of vinegar.

She sighs.“I knew I shouldn’t have left the States.”

“Mom, that’s not what this is about.”

Mom adjusts the clip in her lightening red hair.It’s gone from fiery red to almost strawberry blonde as I’ve gotten older.

I look forward to aging like a graceful Irish woman.

“I know it’s not, but I don’t like being out of the loop.I like knowing what’s going on.I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me just because there’s an ocean between us.”

I give my mom a small smile.“The Atlantic doesn’t make me feel like I can’t talk to you.”

Mom tilts her head to the side, folding her arms on the bar.My mom is a firecracker, not just because of her hair.She’s loud and brash and left home the second she could to see the world, got her degree in engineering from Columbia, bossed her way to the top.

She refused to marry my dad despite his wishes, railed against her catholic upbringing, and made me the woman I am today.I think I’m pretty great, all things considered.

Except maybe not knowing what’s good for me.

It’s rare my mother isn’t smiling or glinting with mischief.Right now, is one of those moments, the edges of her eyes gone soft, and her lips turned down.“I’m getting worried about you, Abigail.More than I usually am.”

I swallow.

She reaches out and cups my hand tenderly.“Would you please tell me?”

Something inside me breaks.I hardened the moment I found out Theo had been dishonest with me.Calcified my insides so that nothing could crumble.

One gentle touch from my mother has me descending into tears I have not shed over everything.

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