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West grabs my hand and hauls me to his side. “I’m so fucking happy for you,” he whispers. “That your mom came back.”
“Yeah, that’s awesome,” Nate says and brushes a curl out of my face. “Ready, girl?”
No, I’m not at all ready. I’m not sure if I’m more upset, or nervous, or sad, or happy, but there’s no chance I’m stepping back. I’m doing this.
We are doing this.
“Thanks for coming, guys.” I kiss West, a quick peck, then Nate, and step ahead of them, entering the coffee shop first.
But I don’t see her. She’s not here. That’s my initial thought. She didn’t come, and there’s this bizarre mixture of annoyance and relief flooding my
mind.
God, what’s wrong with me?
Until I spot her. It has to be her. She’s sitting at the back of the shop, in a dark corner, her hair, red like mine, shining.
She’s not alone.
Instinctively I take a step back. There’s a guy sitting across from her, his hair gray, his beard dark, his shoulders broad, encased in a blue sweater. He looks strong, unpleasant and downright annoyed.
It scares me. Mom’s boyfriends never were good people. They never really hurt me, but they often pushed me around as a child. Leered. Watched. Intimidated and got off on doing it.
Another step back and I walk into someone who lets out an oof of surprise.
“Where you going, Syd?” Nate’s hands land on my shoulders, and his voice in my ear calms me down.
West steps to my side. “Isn’t she here yet?”
“She’s here.” I take a soothing breath, and reach for their hands, not caring if it’s ridiculous that I need to hold on to them for this. “Come on.”
Mom doesn’t notice us until we’re standing at her table. Her eyes go wide at the sight of me—or is it the sight of the two tall, muscular guys accompanying me?
Who knows?
I barely know the woman who stands up to greet me anymore, and that’s the truth. I let go of the boys to hug her skinny frame, her scent familiar and yet laced with a chemical that makes me wrinkle my nose.
Pulling back, she looks down at me. Mom is taller, if not by much. She smiles at me and I smile back, my eyes stinging.
“Mom.” Suddenly I don’t want to let go. “I missed you so much.”
“Me too, baby. Me too.” But she glances at the man sitting at the table instead of looking at me. “You have to tell me all about it.”
“Who are these guys?” The man flashes us an insincere smile that’s more a cruel baring of teeth. “This is a family reunion. Scat.”
“What are you talking about?” I turn to him, incredulous. “They are family. And who are you?”
“Careful how you speak to Harold, poppet,” Mom says. “He doesn’t like—”
“Shut it, Mary. Harold this and Harold that.” He glares at me. “I talk, you answer. Got it?”
“Actually, no.” I tear my angry gaze from him to shoot an accusing look at my mom. “Why are you letting him do this?”
She gives a light, fake laugh. “Honey, he’s my man.”
As if that explains anything. Maybe for her it does. For me? Not anymore.
“Your man should respect you,” I say. “Love you. Love your children.”
