We sat in silence for a few moments, and I watched the cars on Lakeridge Avenue slosh water onto the curb as they passed.

“So, Talia.” Clover touched my arm to get my attention. “I’m glad I ran into you, because I really need your help.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re the only one Jake will listen to.”

Bianca and I exchanged glances, and I sat up straight. “What’s up?”

Clover rotated the cup in her hands a few times. “There’s an open mic night in a few weeks,” she said. “First Friday of February. Simon’s hosting it.”

“Okay,” I said, drawing out the word.

“Lots of poets show up,” she said, “and a couple of wannabe comedians, too. It’s traditionally a hodgepodge of whatever people think their talents are.”

I waited for her to continue. I still didn’t see how she needed my help.

She took a drink. “I think it would be a good platform for Jake to test out this song he’s been working on, but he doesn’t want to do it.”

I frowned. “I wonder why,” I said at the same time Bianca said, “That doesn’t sound like Jake.”

Clover lifted her hands as if in surrender. “Who knows? But whatever. I know what he’s working on. This would be the perfect way to gauge reaction to it.”

“Ephemera’s dead, Clover,” I said. “I know you’ve heard.” It came out sounding harsher than I intended, but no one seemed to notice.

“That’s exactly why he needs to try out this new song.”

“I don’t know,” I said, an uneasiness gnawing at my stomach. “Jake doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“Unless you’re the one who asks,” Clover said.

Bianca raised her eyebrows. “She’s got a point.”

They both stared at me, and I fidgeted under their scrutiny. “I’ll think about it,” I said at last.

Clover didn’t look too thrilled with my response, but Bianca was satisfied and began peppering her with questions about her tutors and what it was like to be homeschooled. I turned my attention to my tea and silently decided if Jake was opposed to Clover’s idea, there was no way I’d help her change his mind.

Chapter Seven

The rest of the week passed in an uneventful blur. I stayed at Bianca’s house most of the time, and the most exciting thing I did was strip out the magenta from my hair and dye it lime green.

Ally, Bianca, and I had our books and laptops spread out on the dining room table when my mom and Dr. Griffin came home Sunday afternoon. Mom swept into the room and went around the table, giving each of us hugs and kisses on the cheek while he stood in the entryway with her bags.

“Rob, put those down and come here,” she said as she sat in the chair beside me. She clasped her hands together and beamed. “We have some exciting news, and you can be the first ones I tell in person.”

My friends looked at me. I’d forgotten to tell them Dr. Griffin was going to propose to her during their trip. I shrugged and took a sip of my soda.

“We got married!”

The soda went down the wrong pipe, and I started coughing. My eyes watered as I choked. Mom reached over and patted my back a few times before I finally managed to say, “I’m okay.”

I was expecting an engagement. But married? The woman was almost fifty years old, and she ran off to elope like some lovesick teenager whose parents didn’t approve of her boyfriend.

Ally and Bianca properly oohed at the sight of her ring and asked to hear the entire story from the proposal to the trip to the altar. Meanwhile, I stared at my new stepfather, wondering why he didn’t have the good sense to keep her from behaving like a lovesick idiot. But he just stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders, smiling down at my mom.

I excused myself and went to the kitchen. Dr. Griffin entered as I was filling a large bowl with potato chips.

He leaned against the counter and watched me. “She tried to call you,” he said at last.

“Not hard enough.” Even as I said it, I knew it probably wasn’t true. I’d missed a few calls from her and let a few more go straight to voice mail, but I was so mad, I didn’t want to admit that. And it wasn’t like she’d left any messages.

I rolled up the chip bag and clipped the top before returning it to the pantry. Dr. Griffin was silent again. I wondered if he’d be like Dr. Brinkley, expecting me to go on and rage while she waited until it was almost the end of the hour to speak.

“Well?” I said to him after an unbearable silence. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“Do you want me to say something?”

My fists clenched and I pressed my lips together into a tight line. “Can’t you talk like a normal person? You aren’t my therapist.”

His mouth curved up as though he was trying to keep from smiling. I grabbed the bowl and stomped back to the dining room.

“We talked about Lakeridge,” my mother was saying to my friends, “but we may just have some caterers come here. That’s if we decide to do anything at all. It wouldn’t need to be a big event. After all, it’s the second time around for us both.” She laughed nervously but smiled when she caught my eye. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

I paused, gripping the bowl as I stood at the head of the table. “Whatever.”

Ally glanced up with a questioning glance and cleared her throat. “Hey, Bianca,” she said, looking at her phone, “we should wrap things up. It’s getting kind of late.”

“No, it’s not,” she said before Ally hit her with a pen. “Ow.”

“Then maybe we should let Talia catch up with her mom,” Ally said, nudging her.

I shook my head. My friends were hardly masters of subtlety.

“I’ll take the girls,” Dr. Griffin volunteered. “It’ll give you ladies some alone time.”

“Thank you, love,” Mom said, grinning at him. It took all my willpower not to gag at the sickening sweetness of it all.

After a few hasty good-byes, Dr. Griffin left with my friends a few minutes later. My mother and I silently stared at each other, an odd test of wills. After a long pause, I sat down across from her.

“I thought you’d be happier,” she said.

Her disappointment was palpable, but I brushed it aside. “I’m happy.”

“You aren’t acting like it. I thought you liked Rob.”

“He’s fine.”

Mom gave me that you’re-not-fooling-anyone face and said, “I’m not a mind reader, Talia. You’re going to have to tell me what’s bothering you.”

I crossed my arms and looked away. It was impossible to put into words everything I was feeling. Finally, I blurted out a single word. “Why?”

“Because I love him.”

“No, not why did you marry him.” I tried to condense my thoughts into something coherent. “Why did you do it there?” I demanded. “Why the rush? Why couldn’t you wait?”

“Is that what this is about? You’re upset because you wanted to be there?”

“No,” I said a little too forcefully.

“I don’t understand.”

“He said he was proposing,” I explained. “Why couldn’t you just say ‘yes’ and take your time and have an engagement period like normal people?”

“Because that’s not what I wanted,” she said. “I’ve had a big wedding, and we all know how that turned out.”

Her eyes drifted toward the front door, and I shuddered. I knew she was remembering my dad’s last night here. It was something I wished I could forget, too.

“Right. You know the ending. Why put yourself through that again?”

Mom closed her eyes, and I felt a twinge of guilt. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Talia, honey, Rob isn’t anything like your dad.”

“Yeah, well, neither was your last boyfriend. But he was still a scumbag, just in a different way.”

She stiffened. “That’s not fair.”

“I just don’t understand why you feel like you need to be with someone,” I said. “What was so wrong about it being just the two of us?”

“Nothing.” She leaned forward. “You are and always have been the most important person to me. But I never wanted to be a single mom.”