Page 60 of Here We Go Again

“So you agree with me?” she says, a question clear in her brown eyes.

I ponder my words carefully. I don’t want to lie to her, but I can’t tell her the truth without showing my hand. “I agree those are sound, logical considerations,” I say.

That must be good enough for her, because Becca nods. “Good. Great,” she says. “Then we can just enjoy ourselves and focus on spending a nice week with our moms.”

My eyes move over her face. The faint freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her insanely thick lashes. The curve of her lips. My hand twitches with the impulse to reach up and touch her, but I hold back. “Sounds like a plan,” I say instead.

I just won’t tell her it’s not my only plan.

15

BECCA

When the plane finally touches down in Tampa, I feel like I’ve been plugged into an electrical outlet the entire flight. Every time Theo brushes against me, my skin practically catches on fire. I am hyperaware of him, so tuned in that every look, every touch, I feel in every cell of my body.

I have no idea how I’m going to get through this.

I imagine Mom was largely motivated by her connection to Kim. They’ve probably been dreaming about shared grandchildren and extended family vacations for days.

But I’m still surprised she did this without a little more discussion first. She’s never been the mom with her own agenda for my life. She’s the kind of mom who puts her hands on my shoulders, looks right in my eyes, and says things like, “This is about you, Becca. Nothing else matters but how you feel.”

So how did I wind up here?

I switch off airplane mode on my phone as we taxi our way to the terminal. It buzzes and vibrates in my hand, lighting up with the notifications I missed during the flight. There’s a text from Mia, wishing me a very happy, relaxing week at the beach. Plus an email from my boss about some procedural changes happening at the hospital. And then there’s a voicemail from my mom.

A long voicemail. I have a feeling I already know what it’s about.

I glance over at Theo, who is busy scrolling through his own phone, then lift my phone to my ear to listen.

Hi, Becca. Don’t be mad. If you haven’t figured out that Theo is on your flight, well, look around. Because he’s your ride to the beach house. And he and Kim will be here with us for the whole week. I know I should have told you, honey. But I’m not sorry I didn’t. I was just too afraid you’d say no. You’ve been doing great. Truly. Living so carefully, making the choices you should be making. But life isn’t always about what we SHOULD do. I was so relieved when you told us you broke up with Rory. And it didn’t really occur to me why until I saw the photo of you and Theo at the MS Walk. Rory never made you sparkle, honey. But your eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree in that photo with Theo. You looked happier than I’ve seen you in years. You looked like yourself again. Like a woman who isn’t afraid to live big. I know you probably have a long list of reasons why giving Theo a second shot is a bad idea. And some of them might be valid. But just for this week, maybe set them aside and see what happens? Sometimes the very best things happen when we let go of our plans and just LIVE. I love you. I can’t wait to see you. I hope you really DID buy that new bikini.

“Everything okay?” Theo asks, and I quickly close out my phone. I’m weirdly emotional after hearing my mom’s voice. I don’t know that I would have classified myself as afraid to live big, but something in her words connects and resonates in a way I don’t fully understand. And that scares me more than I want to admit.

“Yep!” I say to Theo. “Totally fine. Just listening to a message from my mom.”

“You got one too?” he asks.

At the front of the plane, passengers are standing and gathering their belongings. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise that you’re my ride to the beach house,” I say.

He grins. “At least they aren’t pretending this all happened by accident.”

“Not even a little bit,” I say. “Which I have to appreciate. The transparency is nice, if not a little bold.”

I’m suddenly intensely curious what his mother said in her message. But I can’t ask because then he might ask what my mother said and there’s no way I’m sharing.

Theo stands and steps into the aisle, and I point out my luggage. He pulls it down, as well as the luggage of the woman sitting on my other side. She slept through most of the flight, but she’s awake now and can’t seem to stop smiling at Theo.

“You have a good day, ma’am,” he says as he hands over her bag, his Texas Southern more pronounced than usual.

“It’ll be better now,” she says, and Theo tips his baseball cap like he’s some kind of hero in an old western movie.

“Go Jaguars,” someone calls from the back of the plane, and Theo turns to look at the crowd of people behind us. It’s unclear where the words came from, but he lifts a hand in acknowledgement before he moves down the aisle.

I follow behind him, feeling the itch of knowing that somewhere behind me, someone could be watching. Wondering if I’m with him. If we’re together.

I used to love the idea of it. Of being Theo Williamson’s girlfriend. It was always clear he and Carter were destined for greatness. And I loved to bask in the glow, to revel in the feeling of importance because I was the one he picked.

Now, as an adult, I realize how important it is to me that I have my own sphere of influence, my own greatness that doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else. But I’d be lying if a part of me didn’t love the thrill of leaving the airplane with Theo, my suitcase gripped firmly in his hand.