One of my biggest talents was the ability to smile no matter what was happening in my life, but it had to be clear to anyone who saw me Monday at the luncheonette that my smile was bigger and brighter than usual.

“What’s going on with you?” my mother asked. “I haven’t seen you this happy since . . . I can’t remember. Maybe not since before . . .” Her eyes clouded over. She was thinking of my father.

“I’m happy.” I hugged her, and she squeezed me back.

“I’m guessing you met someone at the wedding. Was it the lead singer in the band? I saw him eyeing you. What was his name? Ben?”

I shook my head, grinning. “I didn’t go home with him.”

She furrowed her brow and tapped on her chin. I could see her mentally ticking off every available man she’d noticed at the wedding.

Her eyes met mine. “Diane’s cousin?” she asked incredulously.

“Ew. No.”

Her face went blank, then fell. “Oh, Rain. Not Preston?”

My happiness quotient dropped a couple degrees. The problem with treating your mother like a friend, was telling her things you’d later wish you hadn’t. Like Preston’s relationship with Suzanne.

“Why would you say that? It’s over with him and . . . you know. They broke up. We spent the day together yesterday. I let him meet Izzy, and he took us to Flat Rock. It was wonderful. Can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t want to see you hurt anymore, and it seems this man has some kind of control over you.” She sighed deeply. “Please be careful.”

“I’m not playing in traffic, Ma, okay? I know what I’m doing. I love him. He loves me. I don’t see the problem.”

“You’re not playing in traffic. You’re letting someone play with your heart. I think that might be worse.”

I dumped ten pounds of potatoes into a large stock pot filled with water and hoisted it onto the stove. “Whatever.”

I was determined to remain happy, and if it meant avoiding her negativity the rest of the day, then so be it. I kept busy in the kitchen while she worked the front.

When we closed at two, I raced to the drugstore to pick up a few things for Preston so he could stay over on nights Izzy was at my mother’s. I got him a toothbrush, and after sniffing several men’s deodorants, I picked one that reminded me of him. It wasn’t what he usually wore—his probably came from a fancy department store—but it was close enough. I bought a razor and shaving cream, shampoo, and a few other things he might need. It set me back forty bucks, but hopefully I’d make it back in tips, especially since the payment for Izzy’s preschool was due soon. I rushed home and straightened up the apartment, then picked Izzy up, gave her dinner, and took her to my mother’s.

I hadn’t heard from Preston all day, which wasn’t unusual. Before I left for Blondie’s, I sent him a text.

Blondie’s was busy for a Monday. I checked my phone several times, but there were no messages.

By closing time, I still hadn’t heard from him. I fired off a text before I pulled out of the lot.

I didn’t hear from him overnight. When I got to work at six, I made Izzy’s breakfast and gave her some crayons and paper to entertain herself until the bus came.

The next few hours were hectic, and I was able to keep my mind occupied slicing lunch meat, making soup, and smiling only when I absolutely had to.

Around ten, as I prepared for the lunch rush, a huge bouquet of red roses was delivered for me. I wanted to squeal, but instead, I snuck up to my apartment, where I set the vase in the center of my small kitchen table, and tore open the card.

There were only two words: I’m sorry.

He hadn’t even signed his name. Just the letter P. It wasn’t even written in his handwriting.

I dropped into a chair and stared at the card in my hands until the words became blurry. An invisible string wove its way around my spine, wrapping itself tightly around my guts and through my chest, while I tried to convince myself I was overreacting.

It could have simply meant that he was sorry he hadn’t called me yesterday. Or that he’d been really busy. But it didn’t. I knew one thing with absolute certainty: he’d gone back to Suzanne.

I pushed myself away from the table and made it to the kitchen sink in time to lose what little I’d put in my stomach. I wiped my face and rested my head against the cool Formica countertop.

My life was a freaking roller coaster ride. Some days I just wanted to let go and fly off into space, away from all the heartbreak and disappointment; maybe find some peace and comfort with the man who’d loved me first and best—my dad.

I took a few deep breaths of what air remained in the room. I rinsed out my mouth and smoothed my apron. I wanted to call Diane, but she was on her honeymoon. She would have reamed me out at first, but afterward, she’d have hugged me and cried with me. It had only been two days, but I missed her.

When I heard someone coming up the back steps, I wiped my eyes, dropped the card into the trash under the sink, and opened the door.

“Are you all right?” my mother asked. “What’s wrong?”

I forced a smile. “Nothing. Preston sent me flowers. Isn’t that sweet? I didn’t want anything to happen to them, so I brought them up here. Let’s go. I have lunch meat to cut yet, and if I don’t get to it soon, we’re going to get slammed.”

She wasn’t buying it. “You sure you’re all right?”

“I think I’m coming down with something. When we’re done with lunch, if you don’t mind, I may lie down for a while.”

“Go lie down now. If you’re getting sick, you shouldn’t be around food anyway. I’ll pick up Izzy after school and keep her until later if you want.”

She knew I wasn’t sick. I nodded.

“Thanks, Mom.”

I closed the door and waited until her footsteps faded before I slid to the floor and buried my face in my hands.