Probably the same thing that’s happened all the other times with all the other men. Except this time, she’s in a foreign country, and my sister is flying to her rescue.

“Mom, why did you ask Georgia to come? She has classes and exams.”

“I didn’t ask! She offered.”

But what kind of mother would want their daughter to do something like this? Decades of resentment are churning inside me, and I try to stuff them down.

“Okay,” I say, thinking through the logistics. “I need you to offer to pay for her flight—”

“I don’t have the money!”

I take a deep, calming breath. “I know, but I do.” The money I set aside every time Georgia helps at the store. “I’ll pay you back. Just don’t tell her it was from me, okay?”

“Fine,” she says sulkily. “But maybe you could come with her? I need my girls by my side.”

“You know I can’t, I have a store to run.”

“It’s obvious where your priorities lie,” she mutters.

Her words are a stab to the heart. I haven’t told my mom what’s going on at work—and this is why. She wouldn’t even try to understand.

“Mom. That’s not—” I take another calming breath. “Let me help you get home. I’ll go online and book your flight. Okay?”

“No!” The word is a horrified screech. “I need to find Darrell.”

“Find him? He left you!”

“Because he’s scared! Things are moving quickly with us, and he got scared, that’s all—”

“Would you ever leave him alone in a foreign country with no explanation?”

“Of course not! I love him!”

I hate saying this to her, but it’s necessary. “Mom. Listen to me: if he loved you, he wouldn’t have left.”

There’s a pause. Then a stifled sob. My heart cracks; she deserves better than this.

“That may be true,” she says in a shaky voice. “But I have to find him and ask him myself.”

I sigh. That’s my mom: ninety-five percent desperation, five percent undaunted hope.

“Now what’s this I hear about your man?” she says, her voice oddly upbeat. Forced.

“I don’t—”

“Georgia said you’re seeing the guy who runs the bookstore next to yours?”

“Ryan?” I spit out, shocked. My mother is delusional; no way Georgia said that. “No. We’re not involved.”

“Georgia said you’re spending a lot of time together…and it sounded like you’re falling in love.”

“We’re not—” I pinch the bridge of my nose, my frustration growing. “He doesn’t matter. This isn’t about—Listen, Mom. When Georgia gets there, please come home. Don’t drag her all over the city looking for this guy, okay? I’ll pay for your flights—”

“I better go, sweetie! I’ll let you know when Georgia arrives.”

And then she’s gone.