Mai stirs with a tiny snort and then comes awake. She sits up, a little disoriented, then looks at the TV. “Is it over yet?”
I shake my head, stopping the show. “My mom’s home.”
Mai turns. “Oh. Hi, Ms. Walters.”
Mom looks from Mai back to me, and I’m sure she’s wishing there was an essential oil for this. “What can I do? More ice cream?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“I bought stuff to make cupcakes. For your birthday. And lasagna.”
“Homemade biscuits?” Mai asks hopefully.
Mom smiles. “Of course. Join us?”
“You don’t happen to have Cheetos in that bag, do you?” When my mom tilts her head, confused, Mai says, “Never mind. I’m in.”
“How come you bought all this stuff?” I ask. I’d told her Garrett was taking me out for dinner.
She pulls a box of noodles from the bag, but I don’t miss the blush on her cheeks. “I knew you were going out, but I always cook for your birthday. I thought I’d at least make cupcakes. The lasagna could be for tomorrow.” She pulls a small pack from the bag. “I even got candles that don’t blow out.”
“You’re not supposed to tell people that in advance.”
“I’m terrible at surprises.”
I think about my birthday surprise—the trip I told her I wouldn’t be taking because I’d be studying broadcasting. With Garrett.
As if she’s thinking the same thing, Mom’s eyes meet mine. “It’ll be okay. Even though I know it doesn’t feel like that now.”
Mai, who hates mushy stuff, quickly stands. “Can we help, Ms. Walters?”
“I’ve got it. You girls go back to the show.”
Mai groans so loudly that we all laugh.
We end up making my birthday dinner together. Mom does the lasagna and Mai and I make the cupcakes. We frost them, piling on every container of sprinkles and candies we find in the pantry.
For small moments in time, I even forget that it’s the worst night of my life.
It’s nine when Mai hugs me at the front door. “Come spend the night tonight if you want,” she whispers. “Text whenever. I’ll keep my phone on in case.”
Just like that, I want to cry again. What am I going to do when Mai leaves me, too?
Mom is sitting on the couch, hovering almost, and I know she’s waiting to see what I need. It hits me that something else has changed. Is changing. Maybe it’s because of the fight or maybe it’s the way it happens. I’ve always been her daughter, but now I’m also my own person. She’s giving me space. I wish I knew how to tell her I understand, and it means a lot to me. But right now, I just want to crawl in her lap.
Then I start crying, and it turns out she still knows exactly what I want. She’s up in the next breath, her arms around me, gently leading me back to the couch. I’m eighteen and I want to be a kid again. I want the kind of problems that my mom can fix.
She lets me cry until I’ve finally gotten it all out. Once and for all, I hope.
“Tell me what happened?”
“He wants the game more than he wants me.”
“Then he doesn’t deserve you.”
“I know. But I still love him.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
“You never liked him,” I mumble.
“I never met him,” she corrects. She runs a hand through my hair. “Why didn’t you ever bring him home?”
I curl my feet under and lean my shoulder against the back cushion. “I was afraid you’d look at him and see Dad. And then I would, too. But he isn’t, Mom. He’s not the same.” I’m not sure why it seems so important for her to know. “He never lied to me. It wasn’t like that.”
“Then why did you break up with him?”
“He was trying to come back as a hitter, not a pitcher. I saw him today. Taking BP off a pitching machine. He couldn’t see the curve.”
Our gazes meet, and in my eyes she sees the answer to her question. “Like your dad.”
I nod. “So I showed him. Got my glove out from under your bed and went through the sequence the way Dad would have done it. I went online and looked through his training logs. Found a list of all the drills he did.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “That must have brought a lot back.”
“I thought it would be worse than it was.”
“That’s one good thing, then.” Her smile says she knows it isn’t much. “So you think Garrett has a chance and that’s why you broke up with him?”
“Pretty much. Baseball is his dream. How do you compete with a dream?”
She nods. She knows better than anyone. “You’re hurting right now, Josie, and I know you have a lot of feelings to work through. But I also want you to know that our partnership is still there if you want it.”
I let my head sink against the couch cushion. I’ve never been so tired. I just want to stop feeling like this. Things can go back to being what they were. What I planned. What I wanted before I knew I wanted Garrett. My mom. The business. Or if I want to pursue broadcasting, I can still do that. Without him. A few months ago, there was no Garrett and I was okay.
I can be okay again.
Chapter Forty-Four
On Monday morning, I dig out a plain tee—every quote shirt I own will make me think of Garrett. I’ve just brushed my hair when Mom appears in the door of the bathroom. “How about I do your makeup?”
“I wasn’t going to bother.”
“It might help you feel more together if you look the part.”
So I follow her to her bathroom where she’s got all the products. I sit on the counter and let her hide signs of my misery under moisturizer, anti-puffing eye gel, and skin-tightening serum.
“You’ll get over him, honey. It just takes a little time.”
“Are you over James?”
She pauses with the mascara wand in her hand. “Getting
