She hasn’t earned the privilege to know a damn thing about the best part of my life. I dodge the question. “How are you, Maureen?”

She blows a pink bubble the size of a small fish. Snapping it into her hot-pink lipsticked mouth, she shakes her head and wags a finger at me. “Don’t try to avoid the subject.” Her voice is cheery like we always have these kinds of girly conversations when she bursts into town every year.

Oh, wait. We do. Because she bursts into town every year, acting like everything is fine. “When did you start seeing Flynn Parker?”

A blush spreads across my face when she voices his name. I hate how it sounds on her tongue. Gritting my teeth, I remain silent as I wonder how she knows who he is. But then, she probably stays current on all the wealthy men.

She punches my arm. “You got yourself a rich man. Way to go, girl.”

“Mom,” I say, groaning.

“Good for you, baby. Now, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Sighing heavily, I bite out the words. “Mom, that’s not how it works. That’s not how it is.”

She juts her hip out to the side, tapping the toe of her red cowboy boot. “That’s totally the way it is,” she whispers and nods at the car. “It’s that way for me too. Carlos owns his own business.” She scans the block then whispers, “A dispensary. Want to meet him? He loves to shower me with gifts.” She flashes a silver bracelet with a turquoise stone in it. “He picked this up for me at the casino.”

She turns toward the car and taps the door. “Carlos, show your pretty face to my daughter.”

With one hand on the wheel, her new beau leans his head toward the passenger side, flashing a huge grin as he drums his fingers on the dashboard in time to pop music blasting from the radio. He’s probably twenty-eight.

“Hi, Carlos,” I say flatly.

“Hey, Sabrina, good to finally meet you. You want to hang out with us today?”

“I have a business meeting. But thanks.” I turn to my mother. “I have to go. I have an appointment in midtown in thirty minutes, and I need to dry my hair.”

“Let us drive you. We can totally help you, and we can chat and catch up.”

“No,” I say faster than I’ve ever answered any question. “I don’t have time to talk right now.”

“How do you not have time for your momma?”

I want to ignore her. I want to play it cool. But this time I can’t. The ancient hurt wells up. The frustration that’s never far away when it comes to her spills over. “Me? How do I not have time? How did you not have time for us? You left us, Maureen. You left your thirteen-year-old son. You didn’t make any time for him.”

She laughs, dismissing me with a wave. “You were so much better at taking care of Kevin than I was. I never understood that boy. It was all for the best that you wound up looking out for him. Don’t you think so?”