Chapter 26

 CANDACE

By the time I came downstairs the next morning, my mother was already waiting by the front door with her suitcase. I stopped halfway down the stairs and looked at her.

“You’re actually serious about this.”

She smiled. “I told you last night that we were going to see your father.”

“I thought you meant sometime today. I didn’t realise you meant immediately.”

“You’re the one who takes forever to get ready.”

“I’ve been awake for twenty minutes.”

“And I’ve been waiting for you for forty.”

I smiled and walked over to her. “You could’ve woken me.”

“I considered it.”

“And?”

“I decided I loved you too much.”

I laughed and took one of the smaller bags from her. “You’re dramatic.”

“I’m your mother. It’s allowed.”

There was something comforting about having her there. Even though she had arrived without warning, the apartment already felt different with her in it. She had spent the morning moving things around, asking whether I had eaten, reminding me to take a jacket and somehow managing to make herself completely at home within a few hours. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed that.

We left shortly after eight. My mother drove while I sat beside her with a cup of coffee, watching Los Angeles slowly disappear behind us. She had music playing through the speakers, and now and then she would sing along to songs she only knew half the words to.

“You’re singing the wrong lyrics,” I said.

“I am not.”

“You definitely are.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know the song.”

“I’ve heard it a thousand times.”

“Then sing it properly.”

I did, and she laughed. The argument lasted less than a minute before we both gave up and let the song play.

For the next couple of hours, the drive was surprisingly easy. We talked about everything and nothing. She asked about university, and I told her about the classes I had been attending and the assignments piling up. I told her about the restaurant too, admitting that I actually liked working there despite how tired it sometimes left me.

She still wasn’t convinced I should be working six days a week. “You need to leave some time for yourself.”

“I have time.”

“When?”

“On Sundays.”

“You spend Sundays sleeping.”

“Exactly. That’s my time.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You’ve always been like this.”

“Like what?”

“Determined to do everything yourself.”

I looked out the window. “I just don’t like feeling dependent on people.”

“You’re not dependent on me because you let me help you.”

“I know.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand briefly before returning it to the steering wheel. “You don’t have to prove that you can handle everything alone.”

I looked at her and smiled. “I know, Mom.”

The conversation eventually turned to Jake.

“How is he?”

“Good.”

“You two still happy?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

“That’s good.”

She didn’t interrogate me about him. She never really did. She just wanted to know that I was being treated well.

“He wanted to see me yesterday,” I added.

“Did you see him?”

“No. I was working.”

“I’m sure he’ll survive.”

I laughed. “He’ll be fine.”

She smiled. “Good.”

By the time we reached Arizona, I was tired from the drive but happy to be there.

My father was waiting outside when we arrived. The moment he saw me, his face brightened.

“There she is.”

I climbed out of the car and walked straight into his arms. “Hi, Dad.”

He hugged me tightly. “Look at you.”

I laughed when he pulled back to look at me. “What?”

“You’ve grown.”

“Dad, I’m eighteen.”

“That doesn’t stop you from growing.”

“I haven’t grown since you last saw me.”

He smiled. “You’re still my little girl.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

My mother came around the car and my father greeted her warmly. They weren’t together anymore, but there was no hostility between them. They had simply learned how to exist in each other’s lives differently.

We went inside, and almost immediately my father started asking about school.

“How are your classes?”

“Good.”

“You still enjoying Criminology?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He looked genuinely pleased.

“And the job?”

I glanced at my mother.

“She told you?”

“She mentioned it.”

“I like it.”

“That’s good. You’re learning how to handle school and work at the same time.”

My mother immediately interrupted. “She works too much.”

I laughed. “Here we go.”

My father smiled. “How much?”

“Six days sometimes.”

He looked at me. “That’s a lot.”

“See?”

“I’m fine.”

My mother reached over and touched my arm. “We’re only saying it because we care about you.”

“I know.” I smiled at her. “I know.”

Lunch was relaxed. My father asked about my friends, my plans after university and whether I had thought about what I wanted to do afterwards.

“I don’t really know yet.”

“You’ve got time.”

He paused before continuing. “But you should consider coming back here after graduation.”

I looked at him. “To Arizona?”

“Why not?”

“I like California.”

“I know.”

“I’ve built a life there.”

“I know that too.”

He wasn’t trying to convince me. He was simply making a suggestion.

“You’d have family here,” he added. “And if you wanted to work here, I’d help you find something.”

I smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

My mother reached across the table and stole something from my plate.

I looked at her. “Seriously?”

“You weren’t eating it.”

“I was going to.”

“You’ve been saying that for ten minutes.”

My father laughed. “Some things never change.”

We spent the rest of lunch talking about old family stories, and at one point my father brought up a vacation we’d taken when I was younger. My mother immediately corrected half of his version of events, which turned into both of them arguing over who had gotten us lost.

I sat there laughing.

It felt strange seeing them together like this. Not because it was uncomfortable, but because it reminded me that before they became separated parents, they had been two people who had built a life together. And despite everything that had happened between them, they could still sit at the same table and laugh.

Later that evening, the three of us sat outside while the sun went down. My mother had her feet tucked beneath her, my father was holding a glass of water and I was sitting between them, listening to them discuss somewhere they wanted to travel.

“Maybe Europe,” my mother said.

My father nodded. “I was thinking the same.”

I looked at them. “Wait. Are you two planning a trip?”

My mother smiled. “Maybe.”

“Without me?”

My father laughed. “Why would we leave you behind?”

I sat up. “So I’m invited?”

“Obviously.”

“Where are we going?”

My mother exchanged a look with my father.

That immediately made me suspicious. “What?”

My father smiled. “Actually, we already picked the place.”

I looked between them. “You did?”

My mother nodded. “Your father and I talked about it before you came.”

I waited. “Where?”

My mother smiled wider.

“Italy.”