I didn’t text Darin back because I didn’t want to interrupt my time with Lily. But even after the date ended and we drove away in separate cars, I still didn’t text Darin back. I drove around for half an hour trying to figure out what to do.

I’m hoping my mother got tired of waiting for me. I took my time arriving back to the restaurant, but I’m here now, and I guess I need to confront this. She seems adamant about speaking with me.

I park in the alley behind Bib’s so that I can go through the back door in case she’s waiting in the restaurant lobby, or at a table. I’m not sure she would recognize me if she saw me, but I’d rather have the advantage by approaching her on my terms.

Darin notices me enter through the back door and immediately makes his way over.

“You get my text?”

I nod and remove my coat. “I did. Is she still here?”

“Yeah, she insisted on waiting. I sat her at table eight.”

“Thanks.”

Darin looks at me cautiously. “Maybe I’m overstepping, but… I swear you said your mother was dead.”

That almost makes me laugh. “I never said dead. I said she was gone. There’s a difference.”

“I can tell her you aren’t coming in tonight.” He must sense the storm brewing.

“It’s okay. I have a feeling she isn’t going away until I talk to her.”

Darin nods and then spins to head back to his station in the kitchen.

I’m glad he’s not asking too many questions, since I have no idea why she’s here, or who she even is now. She probably wants money. Hell, I’d give it to her if it means I don’t have to deal with her calling or showing up again.

I should prepare for that outcome. I go to my office and grab a handful of cash out of the safe and then I make my way through the kitchen doors, out into the restaurant. I hesitate before glancing at table eight.

When I do, I’m relieved to see her back is to me.

I calm myself with a deep breath and then I make my way over to her. I don’t want to have to hug her or fake niceties, so I let no time lag between us making eye contact and me taking a seat directly across from her.

She has the same unaffected expression she’s always had when she looks across the table at me. There’s a small frown playing at the corner of her mouth, but it’s always there. She’s constantly, albeit inadvertently, frowning.

She looks worn. It’s only been about thirteen or so years since I’ve seen her last, but there are decades’ worth of new lines that have formed around her eyes and mouth.

She takes me in for a moment. I know I look vastly different from the last time she saw me, but she makes no indication that she’s surprised by that. She’s completely stoic, as if I’m the one who should speak first. I don’t.