“Fuck.” I scramble to my feet but realize I can’t run after her as I have to settle the bill first.
By the time I’m done and run outside, she’s gone. I return to the table, and that’s when I notice that she’s left the ring on the table. I pick it up as well as my jacket and leave.
Talk about a dinner date going wrong. My destination was home, but I find myself driving to Cora’s place. I cannot go home knowing she left in such distress.
I ring the bell, and to my relief, she lets me in. I find her leaning on the front door of her apartment. She turns and enters the house without a word. I follow her into the living room and sit down next to her on the couch.
“I’m sorry,” I start to say.
She shakes her head. “I should be the one apologizing. I was a fool.” She covers her face. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“I should have done it better, not made such a production of it,” I say. I should just have given her the ring at home in the same way I’d pass her a glass of water.
Inviting her for dinner and proposing to her formally was a recipe for disaster.
“You can give it to me now,” she says with a small smile.
“Are you sure?” I ask. When she nods, I fish it from my pocket and slip it onto her outstretched finger.
“It’s beautiful, thank you,” Cora says quietly.
I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and I stand up to leave, relieved that everything is okay between us.
Chapter 19
Cora
“I love your ring!” my mom exclaims as soon as she lets me into the house. “Thomas has taste. I can’t wait to see what kind of ring that Ian gets for me.”
I grind to a halt and whirl around to face her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “Isn’t that what every girl dreams of? To have the man in her life propose to her?”
My mother has lost her mind. She definitely needs to see a therapist. She comes to me and drapes a hand across my shoulders.
“Forget about me. Tell me all about the proposal. I bet it was romantic.”
We go to the kitchen, and she makes coffee for us as I regale her with an exaggerated version of Thomas’s proposal. She makes gleeful noises, and it takes all my self-control not to roll my eyes.
She brings the coffee to the island, and as we sip the coffee, my mind is busy at work, wondering how to bring up the topic of a therapist. She provides me the opening when she talks about him.
“He’s always wanted to open a bar, and he’s gone to look at a location,” she says.
My first thought is that he’s probably using my mom as a cash cow. Her next words almost confirm my suspicions.
“I’m considering going into a partnership with him,” she says.
“Oh, Mom!”
“What?” she says. “I’m good with people, and I’m tired of looking for ways to fill my time. A bar would be perfect. I’ve been doing my own research, and I’m excited.”
“You can’t invest in a business just like that,” I tell her. “Mom, I think you need to speak to someone.” She narrows her eyes, and I force myself to go on. “Like a therapist.”
The explosion I wait for doesn’t come. When she speaks, her voice is low and sad.
“I thought that of all my children, you would understand. I’ve always admired you, Cora, for dancing to your own tune. You’ve always followed your heart, and you’ve inspired me to do the same. But I never expected that you would be the one to suggest that I get my head checked.”
“Mom, you invited a strange man to live with you, and now you want to give your hard-earned money to him! If that doesn’t call for a therapist, I don’t know what does.”
Anger courses through me. Right now, she’s saying that she used to admire me, but that’s not the impression I got. She never once said an encouraging word, and I actually remember my mother asking me why I couldn’t be more like Caleb and Adeline. She’s rewriting history to suit her purposes.
“Why can’t you be like other women your age? Enjoy the grandchildren.” I’m so upset I feel as if someone has opened a dam of pent-up emotions.
“Who says I can’t be a grandma and still live my life?” she demands, her voice raised.
“When Mom? When you’re behind the bar?” I don’t realize how loud my voice is until silence follows my question.
We sit staring at each other angrily, no one willing to give an inch. I push my chair back and stand up. “This was absolutely pointless. You’re determined to keep embarrassing us, aren’t you?”
I don’t wait for an answer, and she doesn’t follow me out. In my car, I cover my face with my hands and break down into tears. It’s not my imagination. My life is spiraling out of control. I’m fake engaged; I’m expecting a baby with a man who is not sure what he wants, and my mother is living with a man she barely knows. My phone rings, and I’m reluctant to pick it up, thinking that it might be Adeline.