Page 86 of No One But Us

“Once for old time’s sake?” he asks, but he’s kidding, and it’s impossible to stay mad at him.

I laugh. “Exactly how many favors are you planning to ask for tonight?”

“As many as you’ll grant,” he says honestly.

“I’m only granting one.”

“Do I get to choose what it is?” he asks.

“No. You absolutely do not.”

We head across town to some steakhouse Tommy likes. They’re late, and I wouldn’t be all that surprised if my mom forgets to show up.

Ryan slams his first beer as if it’s ice water. “Are you nervous?” I ask.

“A little,” he admits. “How about you?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“You’re about to meet your new daddy, right?” he teases.

I snort. “I’m surprised it’s even lasted this long,” I tell him. “My parents were together for 20 years. There’s no way she’s going to end up with her first rebound.”

But the truth, despite my words, is that I am nervous. Not about meeting Tommy, but about seeing my mother by his side. She sounds so ridiculous, so besotted, when she talks about him. She doesn’t even seem capable of making good decisions right now, and I’m worried that it will become patently obvious once I see them together.

There’s a murmur through the restaurant, heads turning, when they enter. I’m not sure if it’s because people actually know who they are, or because they look like an aging rock star beside an aging model. Maybe it’s just that they’re so attractive—my mom could still pass for 15 years younger. Though even then, she’s way too old to wear her hair so long or her dress so short.

She hugs me, and then Tommy hugs me. He’s short enough that when we hug his head winds up uncomfortably close to my chest. This only seems to bother me.

The two of them are giddy, giggling, bubbling over. For a hopeful moment I think perhaps my mother’s actually excited to see me, to include me in this new circle of family she’s creating. But it turns out they’re both just a little drunk, which is slightly less touching.

I introduce Ryan, and he and Tommy start chatting while my mom watches with adolescent adoration on her face.

“Look at us with our two rockers,” she coos to me. I throw up a little in my mouth.

“Mom, you know we’re not together anymore,” I remind her.

She winks at Ryan. “You two were meant to be together,” she says. “Those little college break-ups never last anyway.”

Ryan grins. “Your mother is a very wise woman, Elle.”

We look at menus, and my mother defers to Tommy on every decision, as if she has absolutely no opinions or desires of her own. Every question he asks she meets with, “I don’t know, honey, whatever you think.” She even asks him what she should drink.

It occurs to me that for so long I thought my mother was subject to my father’s whims, his job demands, but in reality, perhaps she allowed herself to be swept along because it was so much easier than taking responsibility for her own happiness.

My phone buzzes, and I ignore it. It’s undoubtedly Max, who has left no fewer than 10 messages that consist solely of shrieking “Night of the Dragon!!”

“Did Dad tell you there’s an article coming out about Edward?” I ask my mother.

She nods. “He mentioned it. Neither of us is supposed to comment. He’s almost got the new contract hammered out.”

“Well, I’m commenting,” I tell her. “The article is bullshit, and it makes me look horrible, so I’m going to respond.”

For the first time all night she stops acting like a 13 year old meeting her crush at the mall. “Oh, honey. That’s not a good idea.”

As if I’m going to defer to your judgment.

“It’s a better idea than letting Edward Ferris get away with slander.”