Dylan seems nervous today. I don’t know what’s up with him, but he’s been pacing all morning. It’s Saturday, and he woke me up the usual way with his beard between my legs. It’s my favorite. He woke me up pretty early too; I wonder what’s on his mind. I wrap my hands around him from behind.

“What are you thinking about? You’ve been acting weird.” He turns around and looks me up and down. “What do you think?” I twirl around in my pink cotton dress.

“I think you look beautiful.” He seems a bit melancholy.

“So, where are we going this morning? Pancakes?” I ask excitedly. He shakes his head slowly. “Dylan, what’s wrong? You’re kinda freaking me out.” He takes my hands in both of his.

“My mom wants to do brunch with us this morning.” I pull away from his hands. His mother? He’s never said a word about his parents. I thought they were both dead. Wait. This morning?

“What do you mean this morning? Why didn’t you tell me? You just sprung this on me. I need to prepare. Oh my gosh. What the hell, Dylan? A girl has to prepare to meet the parents. I can’t believe you . . . ugh!” I pace back and forth in the kitchen almost pulling my hair out. Why did I have to fall for a Neanderthal? He’s so stupid!

“Andy. Andy, baby. It’s . . .”

I point in his face. “If you’re going to say that it’s okay, I’m going to slap you!” He squeezes his lips shut. I’m freaking out. What if she doesn’t like me? It took a while for Dylan to even warm up to me. Shit. This is a lot of pressure. She’s going to be the grandmother to my child. I’m not ready for this right now.

“Andy, I can tell you’re freaking out a little.” I turn and give him a look that says I’m not freaking out a little. I’m freaking out a lot. “Look, my mom hates everyone. It doesn’t matter. She’s not like normal moms. It’s just something we have to muddle through. She wanted to meet you since you’re expecting her grandchild. It’s probably just something she can talk to other old women about. It really doesn’t matter.” What the hell does that mean? She’s not like other moms? Then a hear a sharp honk from outside. “Oh, that’s her driver to come pick us up. Let’s go.” Driver?

Dylan grabs my arm and we head down to the car waiting for us. I’m so not ready for this. The driver opens the door for us. I’m expecting to see his mother in the backseat, but no one is there. Apparently, we’re meeting her at a restaurant downtown. On the way Dylan informs me that his mom is rich as fuck and lives downtown. His father died a very long time ago, when he was only five. Nannies mostly raised him while his mother spent his father’s money. She sounds like a cold woman. I feel bad for Dylan. It sounds like he didn’t have anyone to love. Maybe that’s why he’s so afraid of it, because he’s never had it before. The car stops and suddenly I’m looking up at the impressive Four Seasons Hotel. Dylan helps me out of the car. He rolls his eyes at the place and we bypass the doormen. I guess Dylan’s been here before because he knows exactly where the dining area is.

The maître d’ greets us at the entrance. “Elizabeth Ryder’s party,” Dylan announces his mom’s name. I scout the area to see if I can see an older woman with a stick up her ass, but there’s so many of them here, I can’t figure out which one she is. I giggle to myself. The expensive dark marble floors stand out against the light color of the walls. The square wood tables are accented with colorful club chairs. The space is beautiful. I wish I could appreciate it more. My stomach is in knots. The host nods and we follow him to a small table near a window overlooking Chicago’s towering buildings.

There’s a woman who looks like she’s had a lot of tightening done. It gives her a bit of a pinched look. Her dark brown hair is definitely not natural but her piercing eyes looks familiar. Her dainty wrinkled hand comes up for a kiss from Dylan. She has yet to acknowledge my presence.

“Dylan,” her deep voice rumbles.

“Mother,” Dylan replies, sounding more formal than I’ve ever heard him before. “This is Andrea Roberts.” Andrea? Wow. This is more formal than I even imagined. I feel like I’m on an interview where I don’t even want the job. She just nods in my direction and instructs us to sit with the wave of her hand. If she were a Disney character she would definitely be Maleficent. She gives me the willies. Dylan pulls my chair out and then sits down himself. I stay quiet, letting him have the lead on this.

Well, this chick gives off a superiority vibe. I’m surprised this is Dylan’s mother.

“Now, what is this about you having a baby?” She sips on her teacup, awaiting Dylan’s answer. From the sound of that question, she doesn’t seem too pleased. It makes me sad.

If my mom were still alive, she’d be the most ecstatic grandmother ever. We’d go baby shopping, she’d help me design the nursery, and tell me how it was when she was pregnant with me. I miss her so much. Cancer sucks. She was the light in my life. While my father worked all the time, she dedicated her life to raising me. Then we received the news that she had lung cancer. It came as such a shock since she never smoked. She was gung ho about beating it and coming out the other side . . . except she didn’t. She became increasingly worse. My father just buried himself in work more. I think he did love her in his own shitty way. I took care of her until her last day.

“Are you crying?” Dylan whispers in my ear. I quickly wipe away a tear I didn’t even realize was there. I feel embarrassed. His mom is looking at me like I’m some piranha. She’s absolutely horrified. It makes me laugh.

“Sorry, mood swings.” I giggle as I wipe my cheek with a cloth napkin.

Elizabeth rings her hands in front of her seeming flustered. “Yes. Well, Dylan tells me your about five months pregnant now?” Oh. She’s talking to me now?

“Yes. I have another sonogram next week. We should know the gender of the baby then.” I smile, beaming at Dylan. He’s been looking forward to seeing if we’re having a girl or boy. We can’t seem to agree on a name. I like fun names like Zander and Tootsie. Dylan said I have the worst taste in names. He likes Oliver or Beth. Which, now that I think of it, that’s a deviation of his mom’s name. What the hell?

“When can you tell if it’s yours, Dylan?” Elizabeth replies. I’m stupefied. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open. Did that women just imply that I’m loose? What the actual fuck? Dylan squeezes my hand, but it does nothing to calm me down.

“Excuse me?” I grit through my teeth.

“Mother, I spoke to you about this. I know it’s mine.” I look incredulously at Dylan. He talked to her about this before? WHAT? I feel betrayed. He just threw me in shark infested waters with this woman and all I’m armed with is a floaty.

“Well, you never know these days.” She shrugs as if she didn’t just insult me. I stand up swiftly and throw my napkin down on the table.

“You know how he knows the baby is his? It’s because we fuck like rabbits. All. The. Time.” Her mouth drops open and I make my way out of the restaurant. I mean seriously, who does she think she is? The Queen of Sheba? I’m out of here. I don’t need this shit at five months pregnant. I need to be decorating a nursery and sitting on my ass playing video games.

I hail a taxi quickly. Dylan doesn’t follow me out. I’m too pissed to deal with him either. What did he think would happen? I mean why even meet his mom if she’s going to act like an entitled debutante? I use Dylan’s credit card that he gave me for baby purchases and pay the taxi to go to his place so I can pick up Birdie. I need some time away from the Ryders.

Birdie is excited. She thinks we’re going for a walk. We arrive back at my small studio a few minutes later. She plops down in the middle of the floor like she’s throwing a tantrum. It makes me laugh. “Oh, Birdie. You’re the only one I can count on. Do you know that?” I snuggle with her on the floor and cry silently. I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of being let down. I want someone to have my back, to look out for me. Dylan served me up on a silver platter to his mom.

If they spoke about paternity previously he should’ve known she would act like that. Why did he even introduce us? I need a partner who looks out for me. A man that really cares about me wouldn’t have put me in that situation.

I get up and change into some comfy pajamas. I’m spending the rest of the day inside my modest studio. I don’t want any more drama today unless it comes in the form of a Disney movie. A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. Two guesses who that is. I huff and ignore it. Birdie, of course, hops on over to the door and squeals like the traitor she is.

“Come on, Andy. I know you’re in there. I can hear Birdie.” Yeah, she’s practically humping the door to get to him. Well you can have him, girl. Crossing my arms, I settle in on the couch. I’m probably not acting very mature right now, but I’m so tired of feeling like trash. I want to be treated like a princess. Sounds funny now. “Andy, I’m tired of talking through the door. Please, open up.”

I bound to the door and yell. “You’re tired? I’m tired of being treated like crap. You knew your mom was going to be rude to me and you still brought me there. You didn’t think about me at all. I love you and all you keep doing is hurting me. I’m so done!” My voice cracks and I begin to cry again.

“You love me?” Dylan whispers through the door as if he can’t believe it.

I slide down to the floor. “Just leave, Dylan. I don’t want to see you.”