Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
How about…I’ll meet you there?
Maybe I can see her off in an hour.
I hold my breath as I wait for Austin to respond. Sounds good. But if it doesn’t work out, that’s okay too. Your mom obviously wanted to see you if she came all the way here.
She could’ve given me a heads-up, I think as I shove my phone into my pocket.
“Let me put some things away in my room. I’ll be right back.”
I take the stairs two at a time and then change my shirt and freshen up.
“Is everything okay?” Milo asks.
I sigh. “Yeah, it will be.”
Mom’s waiting in the foyer when I get back downstairs.
“I’m gonna meet Austin later. How about some fresh air?”
We head out the door for a trek toward the pier and end up on the beach as Mom chats about work and again about Tim. It’s obvious to me that the relationship was doomed from the beginning, but I don’t have the energy to try to get her to see it. Again.
“Would you mind heading to the bookstore with me?” I say when I notice the time. “It’s just…I want to try and catch up with Austin before he heads inside.”
“Of course!” She wears a guilty expression as I follow her toward the path. “I feel terrible for showing up like this, but I also really needed to see my son and spend time with him. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” My stomach throbs, and some of my frustration drains away. “The walk on the beach was nice.”
The bookstore is packed when we arrive, and I find Austin standing in a long line outside that flows around the corner.
His eyes light up. “Hey there! Nice to see you, Jodi.”
They briefly embrace, and as they’re pulling away, Mom says, “I’m sorry I showed up out of the blue like this. I’ve probably ruined everything. I always seem to.”
“Mom, stop,” I say just as Austin blurts out, “No, you didn’t.”
I mouth sorry to him over her shoulder when she digs a tissue out of her pocket.
“It’s okay,” Austin says. “Dex is a good listener, and he gives good advice.”
“Except when you don’t take it,” I quip, and the sentiment is aimed at Mom more than Austin.
He chuckles and squeezes Mom’s shoulder. “We’re all a work in progress.”
As she visibly relaxes, I realize he would’ve done a much better job consoling Mom. After so many years, I have little patience for it. But I’m also bummed that our date is officially ruined. Which reminds me.
I dig in my wallet and pull out the VIP ticket.
“Are you serious?” Austin asks. “When did you get this?”
“The other day. I wanted to surprise you with it.”
“Thank you.” His grin is so bright that I can’t help smiling back. “It’s definitely a surprise.”
“That was so sweet of you,” Mom says, kissing my cheek. “Listen, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Dex, you stay in line with Austin, and I’ll find my way back to campus and my car.”
“Mom—” I start, but she shushes me.
Before I can reason through her decision to leave, she’s already at the crosswalk to trek back alone, and I feel so conflicted.
“You need to catch up to her,” Austin says, nudging me. “And keep her company tonight. Man troubles or not, she’s your mom.”
I meet his eyes, gratitude pulsing through me that he gets it. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be fine, and I have this awesome, expensive VIP pass now, so I’ll be too busy to pay attention to you anyway.” He winks. “I’ll take a rain check on the third date.”
Without thinking, I buss a kiss on his lips, and then I’m jogging across the street to catch up to Mom. I look back before I reach her, and he throws me a quick wave that makes my stomach feel all funny.
We have dinner on the pier, and though Mom protests my appearance, I can tell she wants me there. Being so close to the beach seems to help clear her head a bit. Or maybe having someone to talk to does the trick. That same guilt tries to rise up, but I tamp it down.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” I ask a few hours later when we get to her car in the visitor lot.
“I’m sure.” She hugs me. “Thanks for hanging out with your mom.”
“Yep. Everything will be all right, it always is, and you’ll be able to move on from this Tim guy.” It’s the same speech I’ve recited for years, hoping someday it’ll register.
Mom pulls away. “Don’t you think I’m tired of always moving on?”
I shrug. “That’s why you’re a survivor.”
That part is true. After Dad left us, she did her best to make it work.
She rolls her eyes. “A survivor of broken hearts?”
I wince. “Maybe I’m wrong, but the problem might actually be with your gut.”