…What was it that attracted you to Jack? That he wasn’t Dad?
…How old is Jack anyway? Old enough to be your dad?
I was even shocking myself with the bitchiness. See, bitchy. Spot on sign of PMS. Not pregnant.
I had to go use the ladies room and the restaurant was still a couple of blocks away, so I ducked into a Starbucks. There was a line, and while I waited, I pulled out my phone to check the time and my messages. I had about ten minutes to make it to the restaurant, but forgot all about checking other messages when I saw the badge on the Twitter app indicating an ungodly number of alerts. As much as I knew I shouldn’t, I opened Twitter and I selected a random tweet that happened to read: “Poor @PhoebeFair” with the hashtag #ChaseMovedOnAlready and clicked the link. There were pics of Chase dancing and doing body shots with dozens of girls and other hashtags of #ChaseBackOnTheMarket and #ChaseSmytheIsBackInTheGame. There were pics and Vine videos of him on Jimmy Kimmel. One pic he had his shirt pulled up, revealing his incredible abs and chest to show where he’d gotten hurt on set with the shoot out… right over his heart. I didn’t see a bruise, but if anyone’s heart was hurt it was mine. There was a Vine video where he was saying, “time will tell, easy come easy go, and all those other platitudes.”
What the hell does that mean? Did he mean that time would tell if we would be a real item? Or that he really had moved on? I felt so cheap and dirty. I blinked to stop the tears, but I was too late. My eyes were already full of tears and the blinking launched them down my cheeks.
The person occupying the bathroom exited and I pushed past her, as the tears continued to rush down my face. Inside, I locked the door and took care of business, sobbing all the while. Why did I care if Chase ‘moved on?’ I had gone into this knowing it would be a one-night stand. I didn’t go in with any illusion that one roll in the hay with Chase would seal my fate as being his girlfriend and we’d live happily ever after riding into the sunset.
I finished my business and washed up, checking my reflection in the mirror. My nose was all red, as were the whites of my eyes from the salty tears, which made the blue of my eyes even brighter. Great. Mom would know I was crying. I opened my purse to dig out my make up bag, and I deflated when I realized it wasn’t in there. Fuck it. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I decided to just deal with it.
I stepped into the restaurant and was greeted by a perky hostess who smiled at me sweetly. “Are you Phoebe?” she asked. I guess my mom was already here and left word with little miss cheerleader.
I nodded, afraid that my tears might spring up again. I was unsuccessful at erasing the comments, hashtags, and images that had been shared on Twitter from my mind. I was pissed at myself for caring. Then there was the smell of fish and what that was doing to my upset stomach. It was not good.
The hostess walked ahead of me, leading me to a table where I saw my mom absorbed in her cell phone. She had this odd smile on her face. It was a smile I’d not seen ‘on’ her before. She was so involved with what she was doing that she didn’t notice us standing at the side of the table. I cleared my throat to get my mom’s attention. She looked up surprised… and I dare say she blushed? She stuffed her phone into her purse and put on a smile.
“Phoebe! I’m so glad you’re here!” She slipped out of her seat and hugged me tight. Her familiar collections of scents was soothing and I felt myself relax, even if just a bit.
“Hey!” she said, still holding me tight, her voice heavy with concern. “It’s okay.” How does she do that?! “We have all day, BeeBee.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “Do you have to call me that? You know I hate it.”
“Yeah, but I can also tell you need a Mama.” She let go and let me sit, and she took her own seat.
I avoided looking at her, instead buried my face in the menu. “What’s good here?”
“Actually, I’ve never been here before. Jack recommended it,” she said quite candidly.
I took a slow deep breath and let it out. What were the lines I’d come up with on my way here? This was a perfect opportunity to bring one up. …Do you always have a late morning fuck with Jack on his desk in his office? No, that wasn’t one of them. I chanced a glance at her, and lost any fight. She looked so… so…. happy. All of the years I’ve known her, she’d looked strong. She’d looked confident. She’d looked in control and put together. I’d seen her happy, like on Mother’s day mornings when Brad, Carter and I would bring her breakfast in bed…. the four of us cuddled in bed giggling and talking, especially when we got older. It was a relaxed happy. It wasn’t forced. Right now, having just talked about Jack, she looked… happy. Ridiculously happy. Shouldn’t she look concerned talking about the other man?
“Go ahead. Ask. Get it out…”
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know what I’m thinking and feeling.”
“I’ve known you since before you were born. Of the three of you, you were always the easiest to read.”
“So, what am I thinking?”
She looked at me for a few moments. “You’re wondering if I’m happy.” My eyes bugged. She laughed. “And yes, honey,” she said, reaching across the table and taking my hand. “I’m very happy. Jack…he just gets me. He lets me shine, he gives me reasons to smile.”
“Do you just not love Dad anymore?”
“I love him, but I’m not in love with him. At least not in the way to stay married.”
“But Dad loves you,” I whispered.
“I think he loved the idea of me, but also, not in love with me. We were just a world apart with what we needed and wanted. Does that make sense?”
“Maybe one day it will. It’s a lot to process…I mean, the way I learned about all of this…”
At least she had the decency to look embarrassed. It was at this point that the waitress showed up, took our drink orders and shared the brunch specials. As she left, I picked up the menu again and looked over the choices, the specials not sounding so special. In fact, several of the choices even on the menu made my tummy turn. I settled on the Cinnamon Raisin French Toast, and set my menu aside.
“So, how’s the internship. Tell me everything! Is it as exciting as it sounds?”
I fell back against my chair and sighed. “Where do I start?” Mom looked at me perplexed. “So, I started out in PR with Valerie.”
“Right,” she said. “That’s what I’ve heard so far during our calls last week. But I haven’t heard from you much this week. And Kevin hasn’t seen or heard much from you either, except that you’re having dinner tomorrow night.” I winced knowing that I promised Kevin that I’d call Mom and fill her in.
I spent the next ten minutes giving her the Wiki on how my internship started and how things changed, namely—Chase Smythe.
“Well, that is exciting!” she said. “He’s the one you had plastered all over your room not so long ago, right?” I nodded. “So why don’t you sound so excited?”
“I am. It’s a great opportunity. But honestly? Chase is kind of a jerk. He’s lazy, bossy and thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I have only one more week to get through with him, then I’m back to working with Valerie.”
“And that’s it? Chase is a lot of work?”
I nodded. She studied my face silently for a long moment. “Well, you tell me when you’re ready. I’m all ears, and I promise—no judging.”
A server appeared at our table and set our breakfasts in front of us and quickly left the table. My French toast smelled great and I was suddenly starving. I dug right in and enjoyed the sweet goodness of the dish. I looked across the table and watched Mom cut into her poached eggs with smoked salmon. As soon as she burst the yolk, my stomach gave out, and my body instantly started to sweat. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand and I searched for the bathroom. Spotting the sign, I dropped my hand, and with as much elegance as I could muster, I quickly made my way to the ha
llway.
The gods, finally giving me a break, gave me a vacant restroom, where I quickly locked the door then puked my guts out. I was eternally grateful for the single bathroom, not the row of stalls in so many public bathrooms. As I rinsed my mouth with water from the tap, there was a knock on the door. I heard my mom call my name from the other side and I burst into tears. She knows, I thought. Meekly, I opened the door and let her in. Her face was etched with unease.
She hugged me tight, silently.
“I’m not,” I said.
“Not what?”
“Pregnant,” I choked out. “You know how I always get an upset stomach when I’m stressed out. And I’ve always been irregular,” I whispered into her shoulder, not sure who I was trying to convince more…her or me.
“I know, I know,” she cooed softly. “It’s okay.”
We hugged for a moment more. “Can you finish breakfast?” she asked. I nodded and she led me out. Returning to the table, I carefully eyed her breakfast, but it no longer did funny things for my stomach.
We ate brunch with polite chat, avoiding the giant pink (or blue) elephant sitting at the table. I let Mom talk about what she was doing in New York. She had returned to Ed Scott’s working three lunches a week. She was also working for Jack’s company, JSS Models, Inc., serving on the fundraising committees boards.
After brunch we strolled back to the apartment looking in the windows and commenting on the window displays and spending more than a few minutes looking at the puppies in the window at the pet store. At the apartment building, Mom and Dominic chatted a moment while I went to the mailbox hoping to find some mail. I kind of panicked when I found that my grades had arrived. One contingency of my transfer was that I needed to clear a 3.7 GPA. I tore open the perforated “envelope” and scanned the short sheet and started to happy dance when I saw that I had cleared the year with a 3.72 GPA.
“Good news?” Mom said, looping her arm in mine.
“Yeah. My grades. NYU, here I come!” Mom hugged me tightly, perhaps too tightly, but I let her have it. And truthfully, I kinda needed it.
We made our way up to the apartment talking about the class that gave me the biggest challenge last semester: Russian History. Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking either. I opened the door, we stepped inside, and I relocked the door. I turned to find Mom smiling at me—probably because the door had been locked, and I relocked it… either she was remembering that first night, or Kevin filled her in.
I turned to walk into the apartment and spotted the drug store bag with my purchase on the counter. I had a moment of panic and rushed to grab it. “I’m gonna go potty, make yourself at home,” I called over my shoulder. In the bathroom I buried the pregnancy kit under the sink at the back. “Wednesday,” I told the box. I did some business then joined my mom in the living room. She looked a little sad.
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m great. Just reminiscing. I loved living here. I really learned a lot about myself.”
“I’m enjoying it, too.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you keep your room at home this tidy,” she started. “Mrs. Hanlon was very impressed with your baking. And Kevin says you’re settling in nicely.” I nodded. I was. Only two weeks living on my own, and yes, I was doing very well for myself. Granted, I didn’t have to pay any bills. I was very lucky that my parents were taking care of that for me.
“Kevin’s got his eye on someone, you know,” I said.
“Yeah, I know.” Mom smiled big. “So,” she started with a sigh, “now that there aren’t prying ears at neighboring tables… Mind if I press?”
I knew what was coming. I flopped into the big comfy chair and rested my head on my hand, my elbow propped on the armrest.
“What would you like to talk about? The ‘tummy troubles’ or the ‘man mess’?” she offered.
“Do we have to talk about them at all?”
She just looked at me calmly, then stood and walked over to the chair, and squatted at my feet. She waited patiently, like a shrink in the TV shows—just waiting for the patient to open up. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about either problem, least of all my mother. Hell, I wasn’t even really willing to talk to myself about one of them. I’d talked to the box, but that was it.
“Whatever the situation, I’m here for you,” she started. “Denial won’t get you anywhere but deeper into the problem. Trust me, I know.”
“Seriously, Mom. I’m fine. So, yes, I’m attracted to Chase, but please! He’s not into me. I’m a nobody.” She wanted something to talk about? I’d give her something. Then maybe she’d go away.
She rubbed my knee and my eye caught sight of the infinity ring she was wearing on her right hand. I picked up her hand and fingered the sparkly piece.
“A gift from Jack,” she sighed while her face broke out into a radiant smile. She sounded positively in love. My heart ached.
“Were things really so bad with Dad? I mean… you went back to him. You must have loved him enough to give him a second chance. What happened? Why did you come back to New York for Jack? Is he really that much better than Dad? I mean other than the good looks and money,” I laughed awkwardly.
She chuckled but grew quiet for a moment, regarding me carefully. “Deep down, your dad is a good man. I do love him. He gave me you and your brothers. I’m just not in love with him and I don’t think he was in love with me. And he didn’t know how to show me that he loved me or wanted me. Something was missing. We were a ‘routine.’ Does that make sense?” I nodded. Boy, I sure did know what it felt like to not feel wanted. Danny and his cheating on me during my whole freshman year totally made me feel unwanted. Chase couldn’t have made me feel any less wanted yesterday morning with his ‘pay off’ for cab fare. Remembering how Mom and Jack were…on the sofa, not the desk…they looked positively in love. I traced the infinity symbol of the ring on my mom’s hand. “I did give him a second chance. Everyone deserves a second chance, and I’m happy I gave it to him. It showed me that my decision was a good one. It gave me closure.”
“And Jack?”
“Oh, baby.” She took a deep breath in, and let it out shakily. “He makes my knees weak, and my heart beat. He’s the first thought on my mind when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I’m falling asleep. He makes me feel safe, and loved, and wanted.” She nearly glowed while talking about him. “My only regret is that it took so long for us to find each other. Three great things came from being with your father, though.”
She stood and pulled me into a hug. “We’ll talk when you’re ready. I’m here for you. No matter what, okay?”
My eyes welled again, and I hugged her back as tightly as she hugged me.
That afternoon, I couldn’t stay in the apartment. I felt like my head was going to burst. Instead, I decided to explore the city some more. I got on the subway, the Six train, and headed downtown. Way downtown. I went to Greenwich Village and enjoyed the cute shops. I felt a little like Serena Vander Woodsen from my favorite show Gossip Girl. I worked my way northward and came upon Union Square around three, and spotted on the AMC Theaters marquee that it was opening weekend for The Great Gatsby. I’d read the book in high school and thought, why not. Two and half hours later, I made my way home, stopping at the grocery store to pick up things to make Baked Ziti for Kevin.
I texted Kevin a time for dinner and he confirmed. An hour and half later, Kevin knocked on my door and I ushered him in to eat. As we sat and ate, chatting about the approaching end of the school year for him, I found that I was no longer crushing on him. Sure, he was still sinfully handsome, and outrageously courteous, but when I looked into his green eyes, I found myself missing Chase’s violet-blues. And Kevin’s dark hair suddenly didn’t look as amazing at Chase’s blonde locks.
Get over it, Phoebs!
Kevin did dig for clues that Chase and I were more than just me as Chase’s PA, but I didn’t give anything up. I mean, really after the way he treated me yest
erday, there really wasn’t anything between us anyway.
In turn, I dug around for more info on the girl that he was referring to when we’d gone out for Mexican a week or so ago. “So, did you ask that girl out yet?”
He blushed. He actually blushed. It was cute. “Yeah, I asked her to dinner and she accepted…” he said.
“Aaaaannndd?” I pressed.
“Aaanndd, you were right. We’re going next Monday night, but I have no idea where to take her. Any suggestions for a good first date?”
Instantly I thought about Ed Scott’s. That was, more or less, my first date with Chase. “What about the steak place Mom worked at? Ed Scott’s?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I think that might be a little strange for her.” When he noted my confused expression, he said, “She works there.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, it’s Shelby. The bartender.”
Huh. Shelby. She seemed a bit old for him. She was practically my mother’s age. Instead of remarking on that, I just replied, “Well, she seems like a great lady. I know my mom and her got along really well.”
After running through a few more ideas, I suggested that maybe they just meander and find a little unknown place. Make it an adventure. There was so much to discover in the Big Apple. He seemed to really like that idea, and then we called it a night. It was rather nice being Kevin’s friend. He was a good man.
Sunday, I woke up cranky and stressed, so I did what I always did when I felt that way. I got my Betty Crocker on. I made chocolate chip cookies, biscotti, an apple pie and a chocolate cake, and did my best to forget that Chase was coming back into town today.
By seven-thirty at night, I was dizzy probably due to the sugar buzz from sampling. I took a few biscotti to Mrs. Hanlon earlier in the afternoon, and a nice wedge of apple pie to Kevin, but I kept the chocolate chip cookies and chocolate cake for myself. As I licked my finger from the mocha chocolate frosting I mused how good it tasted. Definitely PMS.
I went to bed early, around nine. I was going to need my wits about me tomorrow. I had to collect Chase at ten in the morning from the airport then over to another location shoot.
Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 Page 15