I grew up in the city. I’d take the bus or even a train at times when I needed to get somewhere. I hadn’t learned to drive, but I have started practicing so I can take the test soon. I’ve already got my permit.

“I didn’t say that.” I give her a look that lets her know I’m not buying what she’s selling. “He was a bit cold with me, but it’s not surprising with Tomas's past.” Yeah, I’d heard that their mother was a nightmare. It was clear in the articles I’d read online too. “Plus, Tomas is twelve years older than me. So, I’m sure Asher thinks I’m in this for the wrong reasons. I really can’t blame him for being skeptical, but I just wish he would have given me a fair shot before casting judgment.” That tells me all I need to know. Asher thinks my mom is a gold-digger and that we are leeching off his dad.

My mom is thirty-eight. She had me when she was only twenty. Tomas is turning fifty next week. The gap doesn’t feel that big to me. Not when I see them together. If anything, I think the most jarring part out of all of this is that we come from two different worlds. Sometimes I think it’s more like two different planets.

“Well, I’m sure once Asher gets to know you, he’ll see you’re not a gold-digger.” My mom's nose scrunches at the word. She hates it. While she and Tomas might have been a whirlwind romance, she’d made him chase her for a minute thinking it could never work between them because of the lifestyle difference and age gap. But they are honestly in love. I’ve never seen my mom so happy. It’s why I keep a lot of my thoughts to myself.

“I hope that’s true.”

“He will, Mom. There is a reason you were named ‘Nurse of the Year’ at the hospital a handful of times.” She gives me a warm smile. “Just be yourself.”

“I love you.” She places a kiss on my cheek.

“I love you too.”

“Want me to drive you?” she asks as Tomas enters the kitchen.

“Morning,” we both say to each other as he makes a straight line toward my mom. I swear that man only sees her when he enters a room. No matter how many people are in it.

“No, enjoy your breakfast with your husband.”

“Have a good day at school,” Tomas tells me as I slip off my chair and sling my bag over my shoulder. He always goes out of his way to be nice to me. I know he means well, but it’s still a bit strange.