You and Me and Us

by Alison Hammer

  “What’s wrong with quiet people?”

  “Nothing, it’s just . . . I don’t know.”

  “Is she cool?”

  I nod. “She sent me a card with a really sweet note. It turns out her mom is really her stepmom. Her real mom died of cancer when she was five.”

  “Oh, man.”

  “I know. We’re going to go to the movies or something later this week. It’s just cool that she gets it, you know?”

  “I know.”

  I tilt my head and smile at him. He tilts his head and smiles back at me. “You’re cute,” I tell him.

  “And don’t you forget it. Are you and your mom talking yet?”

  I shrug. “Sometimes.”

  “I bet it’s hard on her, too. You know, missing your dad.”

  “Whose side are you on?” I don’t mean to sound as angry as I do, but I can’t help it. I push my chair back, away from my laptop. Away from him. Aunt Jill can say that sort of stuff to me because she’s Mom’s friend. But Beau is mine.

  “Your side,” he says. “Come back. I’m always on your side.”

  The computer dings and an alert pops up on the screen. An email from my mom.

  “What the . . . ?” I click to open it. Notes and letters were Dad’s thing. If she thinks she can just step in and take over, she’s crazier than I thought. “Hold on,” I tell Beau.

  I read the email:

  Subject: Pack Your Bags

  My darling daughter,

  I know how hard this all has been for you, and I’m sorry that I haven’t done a better job at being there for you. I’m sorry that I let myself get lost in my own grief without being the strong mother that you need. And I’m sorry I let my fears stand in the way of your dreams.

  There’s a part of me, I’m ashamed to admit, that was afraid you would love Monica more than you loved me. I know I haven’t been easy to love, that I let you down so many times. And I’m sorry, I hope you know how sorry I am.

  This summer will always be the worst summer in our lives, a summer of endings. But I thought that maybe, we could have a bit of a new beginning as well. I know you think that I don’t want you to pursue acting, but remember, I was the one who got you your very first acting gig.

  I glance over at the framed picture on my desk, the still frame from my one and only commercial shoot. It was that experience that made me catch the acting bug when I was six.

  When I cast you to play that role, I had no idea it would spark a passion inside of you. I was just tired of leaving you and your dad behind on production trips, and I wanted to have you both there with me. But you were a natural, even back then.

  And who am I to stand in the way of your destiny?

  Your dad reminded me that life is worth living, that risks are worth taking, and that your dreams are worth chasing. So, my beautiful, talented, smart, special daughter, let’s go chase your dreams.

  For one week—we’ll be back before school starts.

  I love you more than you know,

  Mom

  “Holy shit.”

  “Ceese?” I hear Beau’s voice, but the email is blocking his face. “Is everything okay? CeCe?”

  “I’ve gotta go, I’ll call you later.”

  I close the Skype screen before he has time to say anything else. I read the email a second time. If this is a joke, I’ll really never talk to her again.

  But if it’s real?

  Holy shit.

  I open the door and Mom is standing there with a goofy grin on her face. That’s when I know it’s really happening.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Alexis

  Now boarding first-class passengers,” the Delta gate agent announces.

  “That’s us,” I tell CeCe.

  It’s like she’s become a different person in the week since I broke the news, and not just because I’m taking her to L.A. I’ve become different with her, too, telling her the things I need her to know, that she’s not alone. That we’ve got each other.

  “Are your eyes okay?” I ask as we settle into our seats. I’ve been saving miles for the last ten years, hoping the three of us could take a big European vacation together after CeCe graduated high school. But if this summer taught me one thing, it’s that life is too short to wait for anything. So when I cashed in the miles, I went for it.

  “They’re fine,” she says. “A little dry, but I have drops.”

  CeCe takes the eye drops from her purse and leans back, squeezing a drop into her left eye and then the right. She blinks and turns to look at me, a smile on her face.

  It’s a little unsettling, seeing her with one brown eye and one blue, thanks to the one colored contact. I wasn’t sure at first, but when she said it was in honor of her dad, I couldn’t say no.

  “Would you ladies like a drink before takeoff?” the flight attendant asks.

  “I’d love a glass of champagne.”

  “Make that two,” CeCe says.

  The flight attendant looks at me and then back at CeCe. “How about sparkling grape juice?”

  “That works, too,” CeCe tells the flight attendant before turning back to me. “I still can’t believe this is really happening. Thank you so much, Mom.”

  “You’re so welcome, and you can stop saying thank you now. You’ve said it more than enough.”

  “Here you go, ladies.” The flight attendant hands us both our sparkling beverages.

  “Smile, Mom.” CeCe puts her phone in selfie mode and snaps a picture of us living the life in first class. Champagne wishes . . .

  “Do you have the itinerary Monica sent?” I ask.

  After I read Tommy’s letter, I reached out to Brit to get Monica’s email and wrote her a letter, an apology. I don’t think we’ll ever be friends, but like Tommy said, if she can help our daughter, who am I to say no?

  CeCe nods and pulls it out of her purse. “I’ve pretty much got it memorized. Lunch at the Ivy, meetings with her agent and a casting director. Walking the real red carpet for a movie premiere!”

  “There’s one more thing that isn’t on her agenda.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Monica’s not the only one with connections in L.A.”

  “Mom? What did you do?”

  “I may have made a call to one of the casting companies I’ve done a lot of work with.”

  “Am I auditioning for another commercial?”

  “Not exactly.”

  The captain announces that we’re almost ready for takeoff, so the flight attendant comes back around to collect our glasses.

  “If it’s not a commercial, then what is it?”

  “One of the casting agents works on another project.”

  “Just tell me.” CeCe’s leg is bouncing in anticipation.

  “MasterChef Junior.”

  “Shut up!” CeCe screams so loud the other passengers turn and stare.

  “Shh.” I laugh.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Couldn’t be more serious. But no guarantees—it’s just an audition.”

  “Thank you, Mom.” CeCe leans over the wide armrest and gives me a hug. When she pulls back, I notice her eyes are shining with tears.

  “You okay?”

  She nods. “I just wish Dad were here.”

  “Me, too, baby.”

  She leans in for another hug and I kiss the top of her head. I’m so grateful she’s letting me love her. As much as I’m trying to live in the present, I can’t help but think back to the times I was on the outside looking in, the third wheel of our family. Now there’s only two of us.

  I turn back and stare out the window as the plane takes off, trying to blink away the tears. They sneak up on me sometimes. One minute I’m fine, and the next, I’m not.

  It feels wrong that he’s gone. Like the universe made a mistake and eventually I’ll wake up with Tommy beside me, saying it was all a bad dream. The worst dream.

  “I’m going to watch a movie,” CeCe says once we’ve reached
the cruising altitude.

  I nod and mumble something that I hope sounds like “okay.” I don’t want her to worry about me.

  The plane jerks with what I tell myself is just turbulence, but my hand instinctively reaches out for CeCe, as if my arm could protect her. She smiles and shakes her head before turning back to the movie on her laptop. Across the aisle, a woman is rubbing rosary beads.

  For the first time in my life, I wish I were religious, that I had something to believe in. That I could feel or know there is a bigger purpose to all of this. That Tommy really is in a better place. I’m not even sure if I believe in heaven—it feels so manufactured, like a story invented to comfort the people left behind.

  It would be nice to believe he’s somewhere waiting for me, that we’ll all be together again. But, I don’t know, it’s all too much.

  CeCe laughs at something in the movie and I wish I could bottle that sound. There has been enough sadness around us to last a lifetime, and I’m going to try my hardest to give her reasons to smile every day, even if it’s just saying I love her.

  I glance back out the window and for a second, I swear I see a red balloon floating by. I blink and it’s gone, if it was ever there.

  As much as I know it’s probably impossible because of atmospheric pressure or some other scientific thing, it would be nice to believe it’s a sign. To believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s a spirit or an angel or whatever you want to call him, watching over us with one brown eye and one blue.

  One Year Later

  CeCe!” I call upstairs. “It’s almost on!”

  “Coming!” She runs down the steps wearing her chef’s jacket from the show. “Sorry, I was just talking to Beau.”

  I was surprised she didn’t want to have a big party for the finale night, but she said she wanted it to be just the two of us. Other than the gorgeous bouquet of flowers Monica sent, it feels like just another night with us watching TV together after dinner. She sits on the edge of her seat in her spot, and I take the one next to hers. The one that used to be Tommy’s.

  CeCe can barely sit still as we watch her cook her final menu: three courses, each more impressive than the last. We know the way the show ends, but it still takes my breath away to see her standing up there among the other finalists. And when Gordon Ramsay announces that my sweet girl will be going home, I watch, proud, as she smiles and shakes his hand, thanking him for the experience.

  It wasn’t easy, taking classes remotely and studying between shoots. Learning new techniques, competing against so many insanely talented kids. Cooking things that I’ve never heard of, much less tasted. And she did it all while processing her grief and trying to figure out what this new life of ours looked like.

  And third place is nothing to scoff at.

  While it was my connection that got her the audition, her talent and drive got her onto the show. Her positive attitude, her ability to lead and be a team player all while cooking the hell out of whatever ingredients they threw her way, that’s what got her to the top.

  At eleven o’clock, the show gives way to the news and CeCe’s phone lights up with congratulations texts from her school friends and the other aspiring chefs she met along the journey.

  “Sorry, Mom,” she says, as she picks up the phone, squealing words I can’t make out.

  “Nothing to be sorry about, enjoy your moment.”

  I watch her, nodding with excitement as she talks to one of her friends. Bella, I assume. I love how close the two of them have become. It’s not that I didn’t like her friends before, but there’s something genuine about Bella. She’s been a good influence on CeCe, and I think CeCe has helped bring her out of her shell. They’ve been good for each other.

  “Bella, I’ve gotta call you back.” CeCe looks up at me and shakes her head as she switches calls. “I told you he’s just a friend.”

  The winner, a boy named Jason, was CeCe’s age and devilishly handsome. No wonder Beau was jealous, but he doesn’t need to be. CeCe really does care about him, and I know from experience not to write off your childhood love.

  “It was just a hug—he won the whole competition. Everyone hugged him.” She sighs and collapses onto the couch.

  I head into the kitchen to give her a little privacy and take tonight’s special dessert out of the refrigerator, where it’s been defrosting.

  While I never wanted to spend my first wedding anniversary as a widow, I’m happy I’m not alone. That CeCe and I have really started to figure things out. It’s far from perfect and we have our moments, but she knows I’m not going anywhere. And while her dad will always be her number one fan, I’m proud to hold the number two spot.

  I set the top tier of the wedding cake CeCe made exactly one year ago today on the kitchen table and wait for her to finish the call with Beau. They’ll have to wrap things up soon, because she has a test in algebra tomorrow. And future celebrity chef or not, she needs a good night’s sleep.

  “Beau, come on!” I hear her yell from the other room. “Stop being ridiculous.”

  I smile and look behind me to check the time on the microwave. It’s 11:11.

  I close my eyes and make the same wish I always make, that I could climb in bed one more night with Tommy. I know it’s impossible, but isn’t that what wishes are for?

  Acknowledgments

  Writing is not a solo sport, and I have so many people to thank for helping turn this lifelong dream into a reality.

  First and foremost, none of this would be possible without my amazing agent, Joanna MacKenzie. The $29 I spent for ten minutes with you at the Writing Workshop of Chicago was the best money I’ve ever spent. Thank you for believing in me, for helping to make this story stronger, and for finding it a wonderful home.

  To Tessa Woodward, my editor at William Morrow, thank you for taking a chance on a debut author and bringing Alexis and CeCe’s story to the world. I’ll forever be grateful.

  There aren’t enough words to thank Bradeigh Godfrey, the world’s best critique partner. Thank you for pushing me when I need to be pushed, encouraging me when I need to be encouraged, and being swoontastic when I need to add a little swoon. I can’t wait until the world discovers how amazing you are.

  I owe so much to Kristie Cain Raymer for sharing a piece of her and Ian’s story with me. Thank you for your friendship and for telling me your stories, even when it wasn’t easy. I will always be a #RaymerWarrior.

  Thank you times a million to my writing tribe. The Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA) transformed my writing life and introduced me to “my people.” I am proud and honored to be part of such an incredible organization.

  I’m grateful for the subgroups I’ve found and formed along the way—first and foremost, the Fictionistas, who are always there for a #spitball and support. I was never alone on this journey thanks to the Querying Support group, the Sub Support group, and now, the 2020 Debuts with help and guidance from Mike Chen and the 2019 group and Jennifer Klepper and the 2018 group. I can’t wait to pay your kindness forward. And, of course, the Every Damn Day Writers, who keep me inspired and accountable.

  Alexis and Tommy have been around for a very long time, so I have to thank my first-ever critique group, Catherine Becker, Shannon Heffernan, Paige Warren, and Whitney Wolf, for helping to shape them both. And my local Slice of Fiction ladies, Mary Chase, Amy Melnicsak, Kasia Manolas, and Nancy Johnson, who I have to thank for many things, including opening my eyes to the unique way people with lung cancer are treated.

  So many writers have helped me by looking at my pages, critiquing my query letters, or giving general advice, including: Lainey Cameron (the best writing conference roommate); Sharon Peterson; Julie Carrick Dalton; Orly Konig; Christine Adler; Kathleen West, who has been in step with me on this crazy journey; Sheri Taylor-Emery; Natalia Iwanyckyj; Peggy Finck (with her mad query skills); Michele Montgomery; Lisa Montanaro; Jessica Zimmerman Smith; Meghan Scott Molin; Suanne Schafer; Jessie Starr; Fern Ronay; Brenda Linskey; Gisèle
Lewis; Karen Stensgaard; and everyone in the Women’s Fiction Critique Group. An additional thank-you to Abby Saul for the early revision help, and to Esi Sogah and Alicia Clancy.

  I have been fortunate to have so many friends who have been through this journey before, and I am beyond grateful for their friendship, support, and advice. Thank you to Barbara Claypole White, Heather Webb, Kristin Rockaway, Kathleen Barber, Kimmery Martin, Julie Clark, Erin Bartles, Liz Fenton, Colleen Oakley, Meg Donohue, Laura Drake, Rea Frey, and Amy Mason Doan. A special thanks to Kristin Harmel for showing me the way early on, telling me how not to format a manuscript, and to Camille Pagán for becoming a mentor and a friend.

  Thank you to Grant Faulkner for starting National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)—the main reason I was able to write the first draft of this book in two months, which is fourteen years and ten months faster than I wrote my first manuscript.

  I’m never finished learning, and I owe so much to my teachers along the way, including Josh Russell, Jennie Nash, Donald Maass, the Muse and the Marketplace, Writer Unboxed, StoryStudio Chicago, the Marks of the Bestseller Experiment, and my writing teachers at Clayton High, the University of Kansas, and the University of Florida. Go Gators!

  There’s a reason this book is dedicated to my family. Thank you to my mom, Kathy Hammer—who, for the record, I have a great relationship with—for being one of my best friends and biggest fans from day one. To my dad, Dr. Randy Hammer, who, like Tommy, makes the world’s best cream cheese eggs, gives great advice, and is always one of my most enthusiastic readers. And to Elizabeth Murray, my sister by chance and friend by choice. Thank you for your support and excitement, and for giving me one of my favorite job titles: aunt.

  Thank you to the Lewin, Berger, Hammer, and Block families. And to my grandparents, Elaine and Joe Berger and Annette and Buddy Hammer, who are always in my heart. Thank you to Nick Murray, Dylan Murray, Alex “Bear-Bear” Murray, and to Carlene Jarrett.

  Friends are the family you choose, and I’ve got some of the best. Thank you, Meg McKeen, for being the best Myrna a girl could ask for. To Jenna Shulman, my BFFAEAE; Christina Williams for always having my back, DJ Johnson and Chardy McEwan, Amy Wallace, Sally MF Bright, Amy Gerhartz and the rest of MyGirls, Libby Love; Krissie Callahan, Jeff and Julie Johnson, Brian and Kristen Fechino, Michelle Dash, Shana Freedman, and Marija McPherson.