I decide to leave my comfort blanket, aka Luke, at home for my lunch date with Cruella. He was nice enough to let me borrow his car and enjoyed teasing me about having to move the steering wheel higher so my belly could fit behind it.

Bastard.

I finish parking and make my way into the cute little café called Peggy’s. They serve delicious pancakes all day, and my stomach rumbles as I am daydreaming about the fluffy cakes covered in warm maple syrup.

Yup. I think I’ll have those.

I open the door and immediately see Susan sitting at a quaint little table in the corner.

The restaurant is decorated in a simple French theme. Pictures of the Eiffel Tower hang from the walls, and simple white tablecloths cover the tables. Colorful flowers in crystal vases are used as centerpieces. It’s classy and elegant, perfect for Susan’s taste.

I take a seat across from her and open my menu. I’m not sure why I’m looking at it since I’ve already decided what I want to order, but it seems like a good barrier between me and the woman across the table.

Susan folds her menu gracefully and places her dainty hands on top. She’s not the woman I saw earlier this morning who was falling apart, but she’s also not the lady I remember who was always so put together she seemed like a fancy painting.

Her fingers don’t look freshly manicured, and she’s wearing less jewelry than normal, just a simple gold chain around her long, slender neck and her wedding band. Her hair is showing a little gray at the roots, and her makeup is kept to a minimum instead of the usual masterpiece she regularly paints on a daily basis.

I’m not sure how I feel about this new Susan. I knew how to handle the old one, and I decide this one makes me a little uncomfortable. I liked the predictability, even if I didn’t like the woman herself.

My back is rim-rod straight as I continue to stare at my menu, afraid to put it down. The waitress drops off two glasses of orange juice before pulling out her pad and pen to take our order.

I lick my lips hesitantly, placing the menu on the table. “I’ll have the short stack, please. Bacon on the side.” The waitress nods her head and turns to Susan.

“I’ll have the same. Thank you,” she states politely.

My jaw hits the floor. Again. Apparently, this is going to happen a lot with the new Susan. I’ve never seen her order anything other than an egg white veggie omelet and coffee.

The waitress leaves, and silence encompasses our table.

I tap my foot anxiously against the tile floor.

This is awkward.

Susan clears her throat. “It’s interesting not having Adam here, isn’t it? He was always the mediator between you and I.” She takes a sip of her tart juice. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a one-on-one conversation with you,” she confesses.

I snort. Nope. Pretty sure we haven’t. And now that I’m sitting in this little café, I can remember why.

“I take full responsibility for that,” she continues. “I guess I was always a little protective of my baby boy and wasn’t ready to give up being the only woman in his life at such a young age.”

I remain silent, having nothing to contribute to the current topic. We did get married young. I won’t deny that. We were nineteen. Practically babies. But we were in love. He proposed, and I couldn’t say no.

“I apologize for that. I hope you understand that it was nothing personal. No one would have ever been good enough for Adam in my eyes. He was my entire world. I’m sure you’ll understand that someday soon,” she says, glancing toward my stomach.

I stay quiet.

“Is it a girl, or a boy? Do you know?” she asks, kindly. I can tell she’s a little nervous to bring up the baby.

“It’s a little boy.” I smile shyly. Little Man has a habit of bringing a smile to my face every time I think about him.

She sighs, happily. “I’m glad. You would’ve made beautiful girls, too. But I’m excited that Adam left a little piece of himself with you. He was quite the handful as a child.” She smiles wistfully, remembering a tiny Adam running around.

I laugh at her comment. “I can only imagine.”

He was a handful as an adult.

“When are you due?”

“January 27^th,” I say, grinning. I’m not sure I’ve ever smiled this much in Susan’s presence. Apparently, Little Man is taking on his father’s role of mediator.

“That’s wonderful.” She grabs my hand delicately from across the table. It’s kind of awkward, but I appreciate her effort. “I know I don’t deserve this, considering how awful I was to you for all those years, but I would love to be part of this baby’s life. If you’d let me.” Her eyes are glassy as she stares at me earnestly.

I give her a non-committal shrug, still hesitant to trust someone who was so horrible for so many years.

“We’ll see,” I reply, squeezing her hand lightly, trying to soften the blow.

She nods slightly, trying to hide her disappointment. “I understand. I would be hesitant to trust me, too.” She laughs sarcastically before releasing my hand.

“So where are you living? You disappeared after….” A tear slides down her face before she grabs her cloth napkin and dabs at it quickly.

“I’m actually roommates with Luke right now. We reconnected after the funeral and he offered me a place to stay.” I’m unsure if mentioning Luke will bring back the Mama Bear or not.

“Of course he did,” she replies haughtily. Yup, Mama Bear’s back.

I find myself chuckling at her reply, secretly grateful Susan hasn’t lost her spark. She was starting to scare me with her humility and meekness. It almost feels good to see a glimpse of the old Susan. The one with a backbone, even if it’s at Luke’s expense.

The waitress appears with our meals, and we dig in. The pancakes seem to melt on my tongue, and I moan in appreciation.

There’s nothing like a good pancake smothered in maple syrup and butter.

“You know, you could’ve come to me,” she states, her posture reminding me of the Queen of England. She dabs the corner of her mouth with the cloth napkin and takes another sip of her juice.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my mother-in-law?” I tease. “You do remember who I am, right?”

She rolls her eyes (she never rolls her eyes) before relaxing into her chair and replying. “Well, maybe you couldn’t have come to me right after the funeral. But if you had given me a few days, I would’ve come around. I was a mess afterwards. I felt like my whole world was falling apart. And I realized how alone I felt. None of the parties, none of the charities…none of it mattered. And the only family I had left, you, I had scared away. I wanted to reach out to you, but I was too ashamed of how badly I had treated you beforehand. I couldn’t blame you for running away.”

Her confession leaves me speechless. Again.

That seems to happen a lot around the new Susan.

“If I had known about the baby, how helpless you were, I would have swallowed my pride much sooner and offered to help. To do anything in my power to make sure you and your baby were taken care of. That’s why I asked to meet you here.” Susan looks at me contritely. “I want to offer my help. Anything you need. Support. Money. Someone to babysit. Anything.” She grabs my hands, again, around the syrup and bacon, but this time it feels a little less awkward than the last.

“I’ll have to let you know,” I respond, squeezing her hands in return.