But if I add anyone else’s hopes and fears to my own, I might lose my nerve.
I have to do this alone.
I shrug at my mother. “Maybe you and Bruce should adopt some preschoolers.”
The two of them got engaged on Christmas Eve, surrounded by me and Bruce’s kids. I’m so happy for her. For them. It’s amazing to see my mom as half of this head-over-heels, heart-eyed couple. Bruce captains her speedboat, and she buys all his sun-protective sportswear, and they walk back and forth between their two mansions all day in their flip-flops. They’re adorable.
“Did you have an okay holiday, sweetie?” Mom asks Dezzie gently.
Dez smiles. “You know what? Surprisingly, it was really fun. I thought it would be hard to get through Christmas without Rob, but honestly, after Covid it was so nice for us to all be together that it was okay.”
My mom takes Dezzie’s hand from across the kitchen island and squeezes it. “Good riddance.” She lowers her voice. “And how’s the divorce going?”
“Mom!” I protest. “She doesn’t want to talk about that!”
“No, it’s fine,” Dezzie says. “So far so good. I have a fierce-ass bitch attorney, and as soon as I’m divorced I’m going to marry her because I love her so much.”
The email alert on my iPad dings and I reach for it.
“No phone thingies at breakfast,” Mom says, snatching my tablet. She’s on a mindfulness kick and keeps hiding all my devices.
I snatch the iPad back.
“I need it for work.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve!” she protests.
“No rest for the wicked.”
In truth, I have no work. I’m waiting on tenterhooks for Becky to send back a clean copy of my screenplay so I can get it printed out for Seth this afternoon. My flight to Chicago is first thing in the morning, and I want to have it professionally bound before I leave.
Becky’s name is at the top of my email. Finally.
From: bma445@nyu.edu
To: mollymarks@netmail.co
Date: Fri, Dec 31, 2021 at 8:44 am
Subject: As requested …
Hey Seth!
I get chills at the sight of his name.
“What the fuck?” I say out loud.
“What is it?” Alyssa asks, concerned.
I hold up my finger and read on:
The space is perfect—even better than the pictures. The Realtor said the owners would be open to us renovating it to our specs. The deadline for the lease application is January 3, so we should make a decision ASAP. Let me know if you want to move forward. Hope you have a great New Year’s in Florida!—Becky
“Holy shit,” I murmur.
My mom flicks flour at me. (Flicking food at people is a trait I inherited from her.)
“Tell us what it is, goose!” she says. “And stop cursing.”
“It’s no big deal,” I say, trying to get control of my pulse. “Uh … I got an email that was meant for Seth.”
“Seth Rubenstein?” Mom asks.
“There is no other Seth,” Dezzie says. “You know there is no other Seth.”
Alyssa puts her hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah. No worries,” I say. “Just surprised me.”
“What does it say?” Alyssa asks.
“Not much. Some business thing. But, I guess he’s here. For New Year’s.”
Which, of course, ruins my plan.
I must look as distressed as I feel, because the kitchen goes uncomfortably quiet.
“Didn’t his parents always have a big New Year’s Eve party?” Alyssa asks.
