I looked down into her teary eyes, trying not to get sucked into her worn-out apologies.

She hugged me one last time and stepped back, pulling a small blue box out of her jacket. “I led a rehab session yesterday and all the women were talking about how much they missed celebrating their kids’ birthdays when they were younger.”

“Stop it.”

“No...I know I’ve missed all of your birthdays and important milestones, but...Here.” She pressed the box into my hand and rushed out of my office without looking back.

I set the box on my desk and stared at it, unsure of what to do. I was honestly tempted to throw it away and forget that she’d ever stopped by. Yet, as much as I loathed her for things she’d done in the past, I couldn’t deny that she was trying to make things right.

I slowly unwrapped the light blue box and hesitated before flipping off the top: A silver Audemar Piguet watch and a small, handwritten note:

Jonathan,

I’ve been a terrible mother to you throughout your life—even more terrible for what I did to your fiancée last year...I want you to know that I’m fully aware of the mistakes I’ve made and if you ever let me back into your life I won’t make the same mistakes again...In the grand scheme of things, I don’t have much time left to make things right, but I’ll be grateful for any seconds you choose to share with me from this point on...

You deserved so much more than what I gave you,

Mom

Ugh...

I felt that soft spot in my heart melting, that spot that wouldn’t let me give up on this woman, no matter how many times she fucked things up.

I rushed onto my private elevator and rode it down to the parking lot. I headed over to her car and held the door open before she could shut it.

“Would you be opposed to making the pasta at my house tonight?” I sighed. “We can make it together.”

My mom looked around my kitchen, running her fingers against the granite countertops. “You have a very nice home, Jonathan. It suits you well...”

“Thank you.” I poured a tall glass of wine and handed it to her. “Are you allowed to drink alcohol yet?”

She shook her head.

“My mistake.” I set the glass down and walked over to the refrigerator. “Cranberry, orange, or apple?”

“Cranberry.”

“I’ll have the same then.” I fixed two glasses and sat across from her at the breakfast bar.

For the past hour and a half we’d traded recipes and made a huge pot of chicken alfredo. There were only “Oh, I always put extra cheese on the noodles once they’re done boiling,” and “I never use pre-packaged garlic” sentences between us. Nothing personal.

Whenever those empty words weren’t being spoken, there was nothing but an awkward silence hanging in the air between us, a silence that revealed we still weren’t comfortable with each other.

I took a sip of my juice and decided to give it a try. “How are you liking your new job at the department store? You’re working at Saks Fifth Avenue now, right?”

“Oh, no. I quit that after my first day.” She laughed.

“What? Why?”

“It wasn’t my scene—too many fashion trends to keep up with every week. I work at a salon now. I do make-up and eyebrow waxing.”

“You enjoy that?”

“A lot.” She smiled. “I know I don’t need the money but I’m really really good at it and I love seeing the reaction after someone’s been made over...” Her bright smile dimmed. “Claire’s not coming to dinner because I’m here, right?”

I looked at my watch. “Actually, she should be home any minute. Her assistant said she was running late. I didn’t get a chance to tell her you were coming.”

“Oh...Well, great. Feel free to tell her that my pasta is ten times better than yours when she gets here.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Because you use oregano?”

“Because it just tastes better and you know it.”

I did know it, and I’d written down everything she used so I could copy it for next time.

Since Claire still wasn’t home an hour later, I asked my mom to make another batch so I could have it flown to Arizona for Ashley and Caroline. As she and I continued to talk, I realized that for the first time in my life, I actually enjoyed being around her—even if we only discussed the simple things.

“Thanks for having me over, Jonathan. This really meant a lot to me.” She stood in front of her car in tears. “I hope this wasn’t the last time...”

I stepped forward and hugged her. “It wasn’t. I’ll see you in therapy next week.”

She nodded and slipped inside the car, and I waited for her to make it down the long driveway before I went inside.

I was putting away the leftover pasta when I happened to look up at the glass clock that hung on the wall.

That has to be a mistake...Did we never reset it?

I pulled my phone out to double check and realized that our clock was absolutely right.

Claire was testing me. Again.

Chapter 8

Claire

I pulled into our garage at nine thirty. I had no idea my last consultation would take three hours, and no idea that the second set of flowers that arrived at my office this afternoon had been sent by Ryan.

It wasn’t until I was closing that I’d noticed a small pink notecard hanging from the stems and realized that I’d placed his bouquets all over the store with Jonathan’s. Before I left, I’d made sure to toss every last one of his roses into the dumpster and flush his note down the toilet. Still, I couldn’t forget what it read: “Do I have to send you flowers every day like your billionaire fiancée does just to get your attention? You WILL talk to me, Claire...—Ryan.”

I shuddered just thinking about him. He literally made my skin crawl.

I scrolled through my phone and saw that Jonathan had sent me several texts while I was driving home: ‘Where are you?’ ‘Claire, call me...’ ‘I called your office an hour ago but you weren’t there. Are you okay?’ ‘Why aren’t you answering your phone?’

Today was a Thursday—a family dinner night and our anniversary. He’d been talking about it all week, making love to me every night for hours, and telling me how happy he was that we’d been together so long.

I called him. No answer.

I texted him ‘Are you at home?’ No answer.

I slipped out of the car and looked down the path where he parked his collection, noticing that his Aston Martin was missing.

Good...

I figured that meant he was gone and I still had time to set up everything. I headed into the house and into the dining room, determined to light a few candles and prepare some champagne for us. But when I hit the light switch nothing happened.

I flicked it up and down two more times and there was no effect. Then they suddenly brightened and dimmed.

“Good evening, dear.” Jonathan was sitting at the end of the table, smiling. “It’s good to know that you came home at six today like you promised...I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our anniversary.”

“You sent me a hundred flowers today. How could I forget?” I looked around the room and noticed that he’d set out champagne and a large tray of strawberries that were drenched in chocolate.

There were tall red candles waiting to be lit, and right in front of me—on my side of the table, was a silver box with my name on it.

He stood up from his chair and walked over to me, holding me still with his gaze. “You know what I love most about you, Claire?”

“There’s only one thing?”

“There’s several.” He stepped behind me and kissed the back of my neck, setting my skin on fire. “But the one thing I love most about you, is that you are so sweetly stubborn. You can never stick to what we agree on. I don’t even think you try anymore.”