7. Drew

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Andrew

I know Claire is waiting for me to turn the car around and go running to Becca. And as much as I want to help Becca, I can't risk losing Claire—which I will, if I make a pit stop at Becca's house. So I decide to call my mother and ask her to send someone out there. She can send one of the guys who always comes by the main house to do all the work.

"Drew," my mother says in clear displeasure, "I was just about to call you. I got a call from a very distraught Becca! She said Claire wouldn't let you stop by her house to fix a couple of things? She's had a pipe leaking everywhere. Really, Andrew, I raised you better than this! I don't see why you couldn't make a 30-minute stop at her house to change a few bulbs, switch out the smoke detector batteries, and stop a leak. What kind of hold does that girl have on you? You and Becca have been a pair since you were practically babies, and now this?"

I get why my mother thinks it's something I can just quickly stop over and do, but what she doesn't understand is that I have other responsibilities now. I'm not saying Becca isn't important—just that the order of importance has changed.

"Mom, I have C in the car with me. I'm driving us home from the hospital. I know you have someone on call you can send to Becca's house. That way we don't have to stop, and she can still get what she needs."

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My mother is silent on the other line. I glance over at C and see her staring out the window, hands in her lap, blank-faced.

Then my mother's voice pulls me back. "Of course I can, son, but I won't be able to get someone out there for a few hours—maybe even a few days. So we'll have to find another solution for Becca in the meantime."

Why does everything have to be this complicated?

"It's fine, Mom. I'll call someone I know who can probably run over there and get it done in an hour or two."

She cuts in. "Oh no, no need for that. I think I've found a solution. And son... just remember this is temporary, okay?"

Oh no. That never ends well.

"What's temporary, Mom?"

"I think it'll be best if Becca comes to stay at your place for a few days, until we can get her place sorted out. Your house is big, Andrew. You won't even know she's there. I'm sure she can even help take care of Claire."

There's no way this ends well. I try to stop her.

"Mom, that won't work. Claire and I need some space so she can recover. Having guests over right now—"

She cuts me off again. "Guests? Becca is a guest now? She's practically family, Andrew. Don't treat her like some hoodlum off the street."

I take a deep breath and thank God we're almost home.

"I understand, Mother. But right now I need to focus on Claire, so I'd prefer Becca finds somewhere else to stay. She can stay at a hotel. Her parents left her enough money for three lifetimes."

I can hear the frustration in my mother's voice as she snaps, "We don't let family stay in hotels when we have homes right here, Andrew!"

"Great, Mom—then she can stay with you!"

I never usually lose my temper with my mother, but this is getting ridiculous.

"Andrew, you know Rebecca is most comfortable with you out of all of us. So it only makes sense she stays with you. It's your house, after all."

I glance over at Claire and catch the slight wince on her face when my mother says that. To say my family was upset when I practically begged Claire to move in would be an understatement.

"Mom, it's our home. Claire lives there too. She has just as much say about who stays and who doesn't."

Mother sighs. "Of course, son. All I'm saying is her name isn't on the deed and she didn't pay for the home. So at the end of the day, you get to decide who stays. Not to mention, Rebecca said there was something you two wanted to tell us. She asked if we could have dinner next week."

What could Becca possibly be talking about?

"I don't know what Becca's talking about, Mom. I don't have anything to announce—certainly not with Becca. But as you said, it's my house, and I say Becca can't stay here. We're home now, so I have to go."

"Fine, Andrew. But can I at least request that you come for dinner at the main house tomorrow? I haven't seen you in a while and I'd like to see my son before I die."

I roll my eyes. "Mother, you don't have to be dramatic. We'll be there. What time?"

"Be here by 6 PM, please. And by we you mean you and...?"

I take a deep breath.

"I mean me and the love of my life, Claire, Mother. We'll see you at six. Goodbye."

I pull into the underground garage and park. I reach for Claire's hand, but when I can't find it, I look over—and she's leaning away from me, staring.

"Please, C, don't start. I feel like I've lived the longest day of my life and it's only noon. Let me get you inside and settled, and then we'll talk."