“How’s Dave doing?” she asked.

I hadn’t mentioned the breakup during my phone calls with my mother these last few weeks, and she hadn’t asked any direct questions. I just didn’t feel like having the kind of conversation about it that we were about to have. But I had to tell her sometime, I reasoned. “We broke up a while ago,” I said quietly.

“What? But you liked him so much. I thought he was going to be my son-in-law.”

I didn’t respond. Anything I said could and would be used against me in a court of law.

“You should really be more careful about the men you have me meet,” Mom said. “There’s no point in my forming an emotional attachment to them if the two of you are just going to break up.”

I’d forgotten that this was all about her. “It really is a long story,” I said. “It’s complicated. I just think it didn’t work out and that we’re going to be better off apart than we were together.”

“Did he break up with you?”

“It wasn’t really like that,” I replied, imagining what Mom would say if I told her what happened.

“Dani, were you a bitch to him? You know how you can be so bitchy sometimes. I’ve always told you to be careful about that.”

“I guess you’ll have to ask him.” Any kind of relationship conversation with my mom ended up going nowhere. “You know, Mom, I really have to get back to work. I have to go write a show with someone.”

“Well, hearing your news, I have the perfect gift for you. It’s a new self-help book that I saw at the bookstore, called Crazy Time. It’s for when you’re trying to get over a divorce. You need to know that right now you’re in your Crazy Time and that’s probably why you’re so miserable.”

“Mom, Crazy Time just sounds like another name for having your period, and yes, I am in a Crazy Time. You’re right. I have to go. Bye, Mom.”

“All right then, love you. Proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom, me too.”

I hung up the phone. That could have gone so much worse. I loved how she was sending me self-help books.

“Hello.” Rich poked his head through the doorway. “You got a sec?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve got time, what’s up?” I asked.

“What are you reading?” Rich approached my desk, which was a disaster zone littered with books and Post-it notes. He picked up my copy of Infamous Serial Killers and then one of my forensic books, the three-inch-thick Forensic Guidebook for Beginners. “Whoa. Definitely not chick-lit material.”