Erika – Aged 24

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This was one of my worst nightmares. It was up there with, oh, waking up naked in front of an auditorium or throwing up during a public speech. If I could’ve chosen how I’d spend my Mother’s Day this year, it would not have been in New York, at some swanky restaurant with my disapproving parents across the table. And with Marc kissing so much ass it should’ve been illegal.

Then again, he had reason to.

“So,” Mom said, dragging a fork through her cheesecake. Not exactly a low-fat dessert, but she’d never stuck to the rules—even her own no-calories-after-7:00-p.m. rule. It was one of the things I both admired and disliked about her.

Mom and Dad were always there for us in their own way. They believed in family, and they loved each other, desperately, but they’d always been more about their own relationship rather than the relationship with their kids.

Their ship sailed straight on ahead, and if our little boats got caught up in the wake, well, so be it. There was no pressure to be what they wanted us to be, but they never seemed all that impressed by any of our achievements.

“So?” I asked, and dug into my crème brûlée. I shared the whole “breaking the rules” thing with Mom.

“So,” she said, again, tucking her blonde hair behind one ear and spearing first me and then Marc with a sharp gaze. Dad was totally oblivious to what she’d said and way more into his pumpkin pie than the conversation. He’d always been the foodie in the family. “Why are we doing this?”

Marc choked on his champagne, then set the glass down. “What do you mean, Mom?”

“I mean, why are we here in New York, enjoying a sumptuous Mother’s Day dinner a day early, when we could be home doing the same thing? Is Syracuse no longer good enough for you, Marc?”

I smothered a smile. Another thing about Mom? She’d always cut directly to the point.

“I thought it would be a nice change for everyone,” he said, then nudged me with his elbow. “Especially for Erika. She’s been working her butt off down in Chicago. Almost done with med school.”

“Right,” my mother said and ate another bite of cheesecake.

Silence floated around our table, but the restaurant we were in had an amazing view of the Statue of Liberty. This was the only time I’d been to New York. My parents had never been a fan of the big city, the noise and the lights. They wanted us to have the small-town upbringing with the potential to expand our horizons later in life.

Or they’d just wanted to live in a small city together, and we’d had to live there by consequence. The latter was the more likely option.

Around us people chatted, tucked in to their meals. There were loads of young adults with what appeared to be mothers or grandmothers sitting around at tables, and everyone seemed happy. Off to one side, the restaurant was split by a glass partition. Beyond it, the young and single laughed and flirted beside a packed bar. The low thump of music came through every time one of the patrons ambled through the glass door and let it fall closed behind themselves.

Gosh, I wasn’t much of a drinker, but I’d have given anything to be on the other side of that glass, rather than here. It was only a matter of time…

“You know what I’d really like for Mother’s Day?” Mom asked, dragged her dessert fork through the cheesecake again. “Apart from dessert, I mean.”

Here it comes.

“What?” Marc asked, and I silently cursed him.

“A granddaughter.” Mom speared me with the same look she’d used on me the past three times we’d caught up this year. “From my daughter. That’s what would make me really happy.”

“Mom, I’m not even there yet. Not close to ready. I’m still in school. I’m still working to—”

She sniffed and cut across me by clinking her fork against her plate. She was of the opinion that I should’ve found a husband instead of rushing off to become an ob-gyn. She didn’t care that I did want a family of my own, only that it wasn’t happening fast enough for her liking.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said, “not on Mother’s Day. We’ve had this conversation over and over again, and you still haven’t acted on it. What about that Jason boy you introduced to us? What happened to him?”

“He’s still around,” I replied and didn’t expand on that. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure about Jason yet. We’d had a slow start, and while I was attracted to him, I didn’t want to lose sight of my work at school. It wouldn’t be much longer until I’d be accepted as—

“Is he? I haven’t seen him since that one time. Did he get bored? Cheat?” Mom prompted.

“Mother!” I put down my spoon.

Some of the other diners looked up and over at us, but my mother merely clicked her tongue. “I was only asking, dear. Just curious. Call it that.”

What I’d have called it was an interference, but I bit my tongue. My mother and father had helped fund my education, much to Mom’s chagrin. My dad, at least, believed that I should aspire to be more than just someone’s wife.

I turned my head and refused to meet her gaze, looking instead to the bar, to the happy singles, the drunk singles.

A familiar figure appeared, the crowd rippling around it, and none other than Noah Cox stepped up to the bar. He had a woman on one arm, a petite blonde in a barely-there minidress, and an empty glass in the other hand.

He didn’t notice me, thank god, but I couldn’t look away from him.

Why is he here?

Well, I’d known he was living in New York, merely because my brother lived here too, but in this restaurant, tonight? It was too much of a coincidence. I glanced at my brother suspiciously, but he hadn’t noticed Noah or my inappropriate stare at his best friend.

Marc reached under his collar and loosened it. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, part of the reason I wanted us all to gather together today is to talk to you all about something serious.”

“Serious?” my father asked, looking up from his plate at last.

Mom raised an eyebrow. “What is it, Marc? Come on, don’t leave us waiting.”

I looked past her and to the bar again. Noah was gone, thank heavens, and so was his piece of eye candy. Jealous much? Ugh, not even a little. Noah was the past, and I had a bright future with—uh, with Jason, yeah.

“I’m with someone,” Marc said, and I switched back to him again, blinking. “Long-term, I mean.”

“Oh?” Mother sniffed and cut the last of her cheesecake into two even pieces. “I hope it’s not that on-and-off girlfriend of yours. Jessie?”

“Mom, Jessie’s my friend,” I said, and shook my head at her. “And she’s a good person.”

“Yes, it is her.” Marc cut across us both. “It’s Jessie.”

“Jessie,” Mom said, and the disapproval was plain in her voice.

“Yes, Jessie,” Marc replied. “We’re moving in together. That’s part of the reason I wanted us all here today, to let you all know that I’ll be moving out of my apartment and into the new place with Jessie.”

Mom shook her head but didn’t say anything, opting to finish her cheesecake instead.

“Congratulations,” Dad said and extended a hand across the table.

I patted my brother on the back, even though my mind was all over the place. He was moving in with Jessie, and I was… What was I? Sort of in a relationship, still studying and not really anything special in any way.

“Well, I suppose that can be considered good news,” Mom said. “What will you do with your apartment? Sublet it?”

“Sell,” Marc said. “It’s not like Erika will be moving to New York at any point, so I’ll sell.”

“Ridiculous. Everyone knows it’s a buyer’s market,” Mom put in.

Gosh, she was insufferable. I glared at her, narrowing my eyes and she caught the look, pursing her lips in return.

“What?” she asked.

“Can’t you ever say anything nice?” I asked. “Can’t you just be normal? Marc’s just told you some really fantastic news, and all you can do is bitch and whine about it.”

“Erika,” Dad grunted, “that’s enough.”

“You’re right, Dad, it is enough.” I dropped my spoon, shoved my chair back and strode away from our table, my stomach boiling with rage. I pressed a hand to it and headed for the bar. I opened the glass door and stepped through, into the crowd. I lost myself in the noise, in the smell of colognes and perfumes and spilled drinks.

“Shit,” I muttered, and squeezed between the bodies, making my way past the bar itself and onto the dance floor. It was equally packed and just as uncomfortable. I’d never been great with crowds.

I turned in a slow circle, searching for another exit. God, I’d been so frustrated with my mother, I’d picked any direction and fled, when all I really wanted was to be out of here. Out of this fucking restaurant and away from my family. My parents, specifically.

The tables around the dance floor were packed, mostly with couples who sat next to each other, women with their legs crossed, sweeping against the shins of their suitors, or their breasts pressed outward.

I ejected myself from the dance floor, shaking my head. This was idiocy. I’d be better off returning to the table and facing the music from my mother.

An influx of scantily clad ladies from the other side of the bar drew my focus. Ah, there! Another door. I tottered off toward it, brushing fingers down the front of my totally practical blouse. I didn’t fit in here, that was for sure, but I wasn’t mad about that. I’d never been the clubbing type.

I hurried toward the exit, squeezing past people, eliciting a few protests, and sending rushed apologies over my shoulder. Finally, I reached the exit, and the table right beside it. And the two people who sat at that damn table.

Noah and his floozy.

I froze in place, staring at him. This was the closest we’d been in seven years.

He was still painfully attractive. Dark hair and eyes, that strong jawline, and that equally pronounced nose. He grinned at the woman next to him, dragging fingers down the front of her throat, then stroking them across her collarbone.

She leaned into him, her ass lifting from the seat, flashing a little too much flesh to everyone in the bar. But she didn’t care, obviously. She was here with Noah Cox. The fantastic, the irresistible, the bad boy, Noah Cox.

I rolled my eyes at myself. Forced myself not to stare. Took the first steps toward the exit.

He hadn’t noticed me, and I planned on keeping it that way. For life.

Noah was a part of the past, a sad, pathetic part, and I wouldn’t dwell on it now or ever.