“I moved back to London because it made sense. Thomas got a position here that was a good opportunity and it’s not like Ambrose and Pembroke is a firm to scoff at. It’s incredibly prestigious. I’m lucky to be there.”
I held her gaze, refusing to back down even as discomfort pressed at the edges of my thoughts. For years, I’d been avoiding examining the truth too closely, but she was pressing those buttons, and it was working because I truly hadn’t moved back to London because I’d lacked options. I’d had ample opportunities in the States, arguably even better ones than the prestigious Ambrose and Pembroke, but Thomas had received precisely one offer—and it had been here.
Jessica’s mouth curved into a smile. “You are lucky to be there, but that doesn’t have to mean that it’s where you want to be. It’s fine, though. We’ll circle back to your existential crisis later, once you’ve had an opportunity to ponder some of the fantastic points I’ve made.”
“I’m not having an existential crisis.”
“Of course not.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but her attention had already shifted back to her phone, inevitably updating her husband onour progress back to the city. Her family would be bursting at the seams to have her back.
“How are the kids?” I asked, partly because I did actually want to know, and partly because redirecting was a skill I’d perfected over years of arguments.
Jessica perked up immediately. “Well, Oliver is convinced he’s going to be a professional athlete despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.”
I laughed. “He’s seven. Let him dream. The Olympics are a long way off for him either way.”
She launched into stories about them, telling me all about how her saint of a husband had stepped in at a recent football match for her younger son before effortlessly pivoting to a ballet recital for their daughter.
“You’ll see them this week,” she said once she’d finished singing his praises. “If you survive your outing with Mom.”
I groaned softly, tipping my head back against the seat. “The garden exhibition. I forgot.”
“Well, now you remember.”
I dragged a hand over my face. “I’ll never understand why she collects tea towels.”
“It’s a perfectly harmless hobby.”
“Collecting tea towels from large estates like they’re historical artifacts?”
“They are historical artifacts,” Jessica argued. “Just practical ones.”
“Don’t you think it’s gone far enough? She must have several drawers filled with them by now, and how many tea towels could one person reasonably need?”
She laughed. “We support her interests. That’s what daughters do.”
“At least we can support her together.”
Jessica winced slightly. “About that.”
My eyes widened. “No. You cannot leave me alone with her.”
“I can’t go. Oliver’s been invited to a birthday party and I have to take him.”
I wanted to argue, but logically, I knew I didn’t have a leg to stand on. Her children were her first priority and rightfully so. “Fine. I’ll go alone.”
“Mom will love that.”
“No, she’s going to love interrogating me to death about why, exactly, there hasn’t been a whisper of a wedding date, to quote you.”
“That’s also true, but hey, at least you’ve had some practice for that interrogation now.”
I sighed, leaning my head back again as the train carried us steadily closer to London, and mentally went through the drawers in my kitchen, knowing full well I would have to find room for at least a dozen more tea towels by Christmas.
By the time I made it back to my flat that night, it was late. It had been a full day of travel and I was exhausted, fumbling with my keys for a second before pushing the door open, stepping inside, and kicking it shut behind me with a soft exhale.
“I’m home,” I called out, already slipping off my boots. “Tom, did you hear me? I’m home.”