She paused—barely noticeable. She lifted her wine glass with flawless posture and took a measured sip, as though recalculating.
“That’s a great deal of responsibility for someone your age,” she said coolly.
“She’s amazing,” I said quickly. “She’s a wonderful mom. And Aaron—he’s a great kid. He told me I was his favorite adult last week.”
“I’m sure she values the support,” my mother replied, blotting her lips. “Good men are rare.”
There was no warmth. No opening.
We shifted to neutral topics—work, weather, an art exhibit downtown. She never said Anna’s name, and I didn’t press.
Not yet.
A few weeks later, I introduced them anyway.
We met at a small café near my apartment. Anna was ten minutes late, and with each passing minute, I could feel my mother’s irritation sharpening.
But Anna had no choice. Her babysitter had canceled, and she’d brought Aaron with her.
