“Do you realize you’ve fed more of that sandwich to that duck than you have yourself?” my mother scolds from the chair beside me at Mo Mo’s Diner.
I flick the last of the bread at the excited animal. “Not really hungry. Actually, I haven’t been hungry in what feels like forever….”
“We didn’t have to come to lunch,” she sweetly states. “We could’ve rescheduled.”
Turning my attention back to her, I lean back in my chair, and shake my head. “No. Between work, wedding planning, and Wes, I have cancelled on you enough.”
More than I damn sure like. Work trips I don’t feel guilty about. Having a career and working hard at it are two things I know she’s always wanted for me. However, meeting with the wedding planner and dealing with having to be Wes’ eye candy during his social engagements at the drop of a dime, makes me feel like shit.
“You’re just a busy woman, Bryn. Nothing wrong with that.” The pride in her voice tempts the corners of my lips to move upward.
“Too busy,” I grouse. “I’m so tired all the time. Fuck, I don’t even remember what a full night of sleep feels like.”
“From work?”
“Work. Wedding conference calls. Wes’ social calendar. This month we’ve been to at least one disco for donation a week if not two. It’s exhausting to get off work, squeeze myself into a pre-approved cocktail dress, and then attempt to gag down whatever is being served for what they have the balls to call dinner. We’ve spent so much time kissing ass lately it feels like my fucking lips are swollen.”
Not really Wes’ choice so much as Evie’s. She wants to continue to promote the image of Wes as a considerate, caring man who loves supporting causes and absolutely adores his future wife. It’s not untrue, but the constant pushing of it feels awful. Over the past few months I’ve learned the business world is a brutal battlefield fought on multiple fronts. With him having returned to the public’s judgmental staring, it is not enough he makes his company billions, they wanna know how and when he gives back or if he’s just another money hungry asshole. Is he actually making the world a better place or are those checks just being sent to Swiss bank accounts? Is he environmentally friendly? How often does he carpool? Is his latest plane fuel efficient? They wanna know how he spends his free time. Who he spends it with. And because he’s young, his love life, a.k.a. me, is up for discussion like I’m a damn debate topic for a high school competition. The press is desperate for details on how it started, who came before me, and any other little spec of dirt they can discover about Wes’ decade long absence. Evie doesn’t want their focus to fall on how we came together, partially since it’s not exactly ideal, but more so because she knows Wes doesn’t want his past delved into. He wants the world’s attention on the present and plans for the future. Digging into his past means bringing up demons I’m not sure he’s defeated.
She snickers, “It’s life in a relationship, Brynley. Their burdens become yours. You weather the storms together.”
I groan, “Ugh. You sound like an episode of Oprah.”
“Wise woman.”
“Yeah, you and basically every other woman in America agree on that.”
My mother lightly laughs again, yet her stare becomes inquisitive. “How long have you not been hungry?”
The question receives a shrug. “I don’t know. Couple of weeks or so. I think I caught a stomach bug and haven’t really shaken it.”
“And when’s the last time you felt rested?”
I toss a hand into the air to express my cluelessness.
She waits for the waitress to walk away with our plates from the table before asking, “Have you considered the idea that you might be pregnant?”
Horror hops onto my face. “Why would you put a hex on your only child?”
My mother pushes past her instinct to laugh. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Bryn-”
“That’s a hateful thing to do, Mom.”
“Brynley Elizabeth.” After I shut my mouth tightly, she continues, “When’s the last time you had your cycle?”
My face scrunches. “I don’t know. When I switched to the shot they warned it most likely would become nonexistent.”
“And when was the last time you had your shot?”
Quickly, I try to gather the answer to the question, but it proves to be more difficult than I predicted.
Am I due for another shot? Has it really been three months already? Shit…has it been more than three months?
I drop my mouth with the intention to answer, but end up childishly retorting, “No-huh. There’s just no possible way I’m pregnant.”
“Of course there’s a possibility. Anytime you have sex, Bryn, it’s a possibility.”
“Thank you, Coach Health Class.”
“And since abstinence is not a word in your vocabulary, nor Wes’ since you swooped into his life, it’s also a very likely possibility.”
Fear spreads in the bottom of my stomach at the same time the waitress places our bill on the table.
I pull my card from my jean shorts back pocket, drop it on top, and request, “Can we…change subjects?”
Prior to this conversation it was a relatively pleasant meal primarily spent with her gushing about Clark and the small romantic getaway they took to celebrate their anniversary. Wes surprised them with an all-expenses paid trip. He also gave them a card signed with love from the both of us. I honestly can barely remember his birthday let alone a damn date they kept in secret until last year.
Thankfully, she concedes. “How was your trip out to California?”
“Interesting. We witnessed a sea turtle operation, assisted in the breathing of some sick baby turtles, and participated in rehabilitation exercises for a seal.”
Her eyes widen. “Sounds extremely eventful.”
“It was. On our flight home, Calen expressed interest in maybe going for his vet license. He says it would be a definite if he didn’t have so much debt to pay off.”
“What about you? Any interest in going back to school? Getting your own vet license?”
“Fuck no,” I respond without hesitation. “I love what I do and love even more it lacks the pressure of being a vet. I like knowing behavioral patterns and observing for symptoms without having to break out the rubber gloves to shove my hand up Shamu’s asshole.”
She lifts her hands in surrender. “I was just wondering where you saw yourself going in the future.”
“Mom, I’ve had this job for less than a year. Right now, my biggest goal for the future is not saying something that could get me fired and having my pushy, superhero fiancé have to swoop in and save me since he’s one of the institute’s biggest benefactors.”
The waitress politely thanks us for coming, drops off the check, and darts to another table.
My mother’s face softens. “Is that resentment I hear?”
“Frustration,” I correct while tucking my card away. “I love Wes. I do. He is….” Memories of him greeting me last night with a drawn bubble bath and chocolate covered strawberries flood my mind. “Incredible. He’s romantic. Giving. Passionate.” Quickly, I fill out the bill and relax back in my chair. “He’s also arrogant. Controlling. And very over protective. Any time I’m out of town for work it’s like the fact I’m not within quick snatch and grab range makes him bat shit cray. Don’t get me wrong. I know where he’s coming from, Mom. The shit with his parents, then the shit with you, I can see why he tries to death grip the reins to his life, but I’ve gotta be able to do my job without eighteen missed text messages because I didn’t send him one the second we landed.”
She leans forward onto her arms, but remains silent.
“Plus, it would be great if we didn’t have to have the same fucking conversation every time Calen and I are on an overnight trip somewhere. Despite what the fucking media likes to claim, I’ve never given Wes a reason to think I’m trying to put extra cream in my coffee. It would be nice to have a little more fucking trust.”
Her head falls to the side. “You’ve always had an odd way with words.”
I playfully smile.
“These are all just growing pains, Brynley. Every couple hits them. Just…try to talk to him calmly about what’s bothering you, and I’m sure you’ll eventually reach a point where he worries less and smiles more.” My mouth drops to argue when she cuts me off. “Ten years, honey. Wes kept himself from real situations…real connections for ten years. You’re not the only one who’s going to need a little more understanding.”
Finding her point valid screws my lips shut.
This is the longest relationship either of us has had. It started completely unorthodox and has continued that way. Maybe it’s just his lack of being able to control the media attention that forces the need to clamp down on the control he feels he has outside of it. And as much as I enjoy going with the flow and redirecting his boat when he gets too comfortable behind the wheel just to keep him on his toes, I’m starting to learn when he truly needs that ability to dominate. Hopefully we both learn to adjust long before children are even on the table for consideration. The last thing we need is any more unexpected changes.