I shake myself awake and realize that I'd fallen asleep on the couch. I panic as I search for my tablet to see what time it is. "Cory, my tablet," I beg for him to help me.
"I took it," he announces proudly. "I'll go get it."
I stumble to my feet and race into the kitchen. I draw in a heavy breath once I realize how early it is. I still have time. I'll shower and use the time on the bus to finish studying.
"Here it is." He hands it to me and my breath stops. I have to pull my hand to my mouth to quiet my breathing.
"Cory." He's taken a picture of himself and it's staring straight back at me. "This is amazing."
"Daddy helped me." He beams brightly. "It's for when I go away. So you can see my face."
I pull my hand to my chest and close my eyes briefly. This is what it feels like to just let go and let life takeover. This is what it feels like to let him in and love him.
"I love it, Cory," I whisper as I kneel down to kiss his cheek.
"I love you, Sadie." He throws his arms around me. "I'll miss you."
"I love you too."
Chapter 8
"Thanks for meeting me here, mom." I give her a brief hug as she reaches my table in the bistro.
"Are you still working here?" She surveys the small space, her eyes pouring over all the college kids gathered around the tables. It's late afternoon and that's when Star Bistro springs to life when classes are in session.
"I'm here two afternoons a week." I've thought about asking her to come down when I was working but she'd always frown on my uniform whenever she caught a glimpse of it when I lived at home.
"Why?" The question is ripe with innuendo. She's always made it clear that she didn't want my brother or me working at any 'menial' job as she called them. It was likely the reason Dylan was trying so hard to follow in our father's footsteps. He'd been trying so hard that he kept tripping and falling.
"I like it here." I'm not going to offer more. I know that she wanted to see me to discuss my current living arrangements. I can sense it every time she's called me the past few weeks.
"I'd order a coffee but I remember it being bitter." She spits the words out loudly. I don't flinch. I'm not going to allow her relentless need to be negative to push me into a confrontation.
"You can stop for a martini when we're done," I say the words too sweetly. I need to temper my reaction to her. Getting her riled up will only result in one thing and that's a scene with her crying and me feeling sorry that I upset her.
She scans her phone before she throws her gaze back to me. "Your father wanted me to talk to you." The words catch me off guard.
"Why?" I spit the question out without thought. I've avoided him for so many months. Now is the worst possible time for me to be thinking about him.
She pretends to swat away an errand piece of lint from the top of the wooden table. "It's about him."
"About dad?" I'll play dumb for a few minutes to bide myself some time.
"No, him?" Is it so hard for her to say his name?
"Dylan?" Strike two. I'm running out of possible males.
"Your father has a problem with that man. Zander," she seethes. I actually see her lips retract enough that her gums show. She looks like an attack dog readying to pounce on its prey.
"What about him?" I don't know why I'm asking. She's going to tell me regardless what they both think of him.
She stares at me, her eyes never flinching. "You're living with that man and his child."
"I'm aware of that." If she's going to open the door and start this, I'll gladly follow her through.
"Do you know ho
w that looks to your father?" The disdain in her tone makes it very clear that she doesn't think it looks attractive or acceptable either.