Neither of them gave me a hint, and I felt too awkward just to ask outright.
The food had come already, and Mom and Greg were already eating, but I could only pick at my food, occasionally nibbling on a muffin, or taking a sip of my quickly cooling hot chocolate.
“Honey, you’re not eating,” Mom said, proving that she was still attentive. “Is there something you don’t like? Would you like something else? I’m sure they serve some desserts for breakfast if you’d rather have that…”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I said and faked a smile. “Everything tastes really good. Don’t worry about it; I’m eating just fine.”
I cut off a piece of blueberry pancake and chewed on it slowly and sent her a smile so she’d stop worrying. The worst part was, everything really did taste good. My stomach just felt too uneasy to appreciate it all.
I didn’t realize that things were about to get even more complicated. Not until Noah walked in about five minutes later.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, coming up to our table. “Had a bit of trouble at the school…”
His voice trailed off as I looked up and our eyes met. I stared at him, eyes wide, wondering what he was doing here and what he meant by ‘late.’
There was no way he was the one we were waiting for… right?
I turned to Mom, wanting to ask, but she spoke up before I could say anything.
“Honey, this is Noah. He’s Greg’s son, the one who’s in the same school as you. He’s a senior, though.”
Inside, I wanted to cry, but my shocked expression didn’t change. The guy I’d been fucking for weeks now, the guy I really, really liked, was supposed to be my new stepbrother?
This had to be a joke, right? It wasn’t a funny one.
Mom frowned, seeing my expression, and reached out a hand to touch mine.
“Sara, are you okay?”
There was a loud scraping sound that killed the low murmurs in the restaurant, and it took me a moment to realize that it came from me. I was standing; my chair shoved back. The table shook a little because I’d knocked the edge when I jumped up. I didn’t feel anything except the way my body trembled and my fingers clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms.
“Are you serious right now?” I asked, my voice quiet. I looked at Noah, before quickly shifting my gaze back to Mom.
“Please tell me you’re joking with me,” I begged. “Mom, you have to be joking.”
My eyes stung, and I felt like I was going to cry. Noah was going to be my stepbrother. Was already my stepbrother since, technically, Mom and Greg were already married.
We hadn't told anyone we saw each other, and I didn’t even know if we were really dating, but people at school had already seen us together. If news of us being related now got out, how would people react? Not well, I was sure.
“What’s going on, Sara?” Mom asked as she stood up. “Do you know him already? Then that’s good, isn’t it?”
“No, Mom, it’s not,” I said immediately. “Of all people, why did it have to be him? You should have told me about all of this before you got married, not dumped it on me like the best surprise in the world when it’s not!”
I felt my heart race and a clench in my stomach as I started to panic. Before, I’d just felt uneasy, but right then, I felt a little sick. Like the little food I’d managed to eat would be coming up my throat soon. I’d told Mom exactly what I felt, but there were added dimensions that she didn’t know about, that meant everything to me.
“Why are you acting like this?” She sputtered, clearly upset. “Do you hate that I’m happy, Sara? Why do you have to be so selfish? For the past ten years I have mourned your father and refused to move on with my life. Even when I dated, it never lasted, and I could never give all of me to anyone, but I’m really trying now. I’m moving on. Can't you just be happy for me without making a scene?”
She blinked her misty eyes, and I went quiet. It felt like something was stuck in my throat.
That’s not the problem here!
I wanted to shout at her, but she looked like she was going to cry, and I felt bad for making my mom feel this way. It really wasn’t her fault that Noah and I had been together while she was with his dad. Neither of us had known, and while I wish she had told me she was seeing someone regardless, Mom wasn’t obligated to tell me anything about her life, just as I wasn’t obligated to tell her everything about mine.