“No speech.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
We started walking toward the parking lot.
Halfway there, Tessa looked at me.
“Are you going to get in trouble at work?”
“Probably.”
Her face changed.
“Because you came here?”
“That’s not your problem.”
“But—”
“No.”
I stopped walking.
“Work is my responsibility. Being your mother is also my responsibility. I just got confused for a while about which one should always come first.”
She watched me carefully.
Then she said, “We have rehearsal Thursday.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I checked.”
A small smile appeared.
“It’s at five.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Like… actually there?”
That question hurt worse than everything else.
I squeezed her hand.
“Actually there.”
