Nate had suspicions about what Marty had been up to before their separation, never mind before their divorce, but he didn’t have any proof, and in the end it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t have lasted anyway. He’d only delayed filing for so long because it felt like giving up.
Nate’s parents hadn’t raised a quitter.
“I appreciate your support.”
“There’s an open bar, you know,” she told him unnecessarily. Then her voice turned teasing. “And you know, Kelly has this cousin….”
Oh no. No, Nate was not ready for that. But before he could protest, the door opened and Carter ran toward them, followed a few seconds later by Kelly.
“Uncle Naaaaaaate,” Carter said, patting Nate’s knees. “They’re doing cake!”
“Cake!” Nate said, standing and swooping Carter into his arms. He tossed him once, just a few inches, and caught him. “Cake sounds much better than this conversation. What a nice guy you are. Did you know I needed a rescue?”
Kelly indulgently watched the three of them. “I see you’ve successfully threatened him into a good mood.”
Caley grinned. “What can I say, it’s a gift.”
Nate craned his head back so he could look Carter in the face. “God help you when you’re a teenager in a sulk, kid. I’ll make sure you have my number.”
But he let Kelly and Caley flank him on the way back into the hall, and his maudlin thoughts didn’t catch up to him for the rest of the night.
THE PHONEcall came in just after Aubrey finished in Makeup, but long before he had to be on set. Had it been any other day or any other person, he probably would have ignored it. He hadn’t met his co-star yet and he was supposed to be on the air in an hour. It was his first day on the job; he didn’t need to be taking calls at work. He was having a hard enough time wrapping his head around the show, which was mostly news, analysis, and women’s game coverage during the week, with a featured play-by-play on the weekend.
But it was his mother calling from home in Vancouver, and she called infrequently enough that he was inclined to take it.
And maybe a tiny part of him held some hope that she was calling to wish him well and let him know she’d be watching—though he didn’t know how she would, since she didn’t live in their broadcast range.
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said to the makeup tech. “Thanks, though—I look great.”
The man laughed and shooed him out of the room.
Aubrey took a deep breath and answered the call. “Hi, Mom.”
“… no, I think the roses if you want traditional and the gerbera daisies if you want something a little more fun. Lilies are a bit morbid for a wedding— Oh! Aubrey?”
He could already feel his hackles rising. “Yeah, Mom. You called me, remember?”
“I’m sorry, I was distracted. I’ve been helping your cousin choose flowers for the ceremony.”
Aubrey glanced at his watch, counting down the minutes. He hoped his mom didn’t want to chat for long. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with her that didn’t end with one or both of them frustrated or angry. “It’s all right,” he said, trying to be patient. “So, why’d you call?”
Can’t a woman call to catch up with her only son?he half expected her to say. Lord knew he’d been burned by those words enough times. They inevitably led to invasive questions about his love life, followed byMrs. Society So-and-So has a gay son about your age, orYour father and I miss you; when are you going to move back home?As if they’d ever spent time with him when he lived there.
If he was really lucky, she’d find a new facet of his life to disapprove of, like his diet or—
“Well, like I said, I’m here with Rachel, and she tells me you haven’t sent in your RSVP for the wedding yet.”
Aubrey’s stomach soured. “The wedding.”
Right. His cousin was getting married. Well, Rachel wasn’t actually his cousin. She was more like the kid his mom had always wanted, the daughter of his parents’ friends. Aubrey had won multiple Grand Prix events, two World Championship figure-skating titles, and an Olympic silver, along with a handful of junior medals. None of it had been good enough. Why did he have to go clubbing so often? Wasn’t he interested in a more rewarding long-term relationship? Didn’t he want to take some business classes so he could take over his parents’ hospitality business one day?
Why couldn’t he be more like Rachel, basically.
He’d always been jealous of Rachel’s relationship with his parents, but when her mom and dad were killed in a car accident four years ago, it added a healthy dose of self-loathing to the mix. Because how could he be jealous of anorphan?
“It’s December 23,” his mother reminded him. “RSVPs were due last week.”
“Well, we both know I can’t do anything right, so it can’t surprise you that I forgot.”
