“Mom—”
“I’ll take a cab.”
“I’ll drive you.”
Claire turned sharply toward him.
“You’re not leaving with her.”
Ethan looked at his wife.
Then at me.
“I said I’d drive her.”
Claire’s face tightened.
“You don’t need to.”
“I want to.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked hurt.
“Mom.”
“You’ve already made your choice tonight.”
His face fell.
I picked up my purse.
Then I took the strawberry cake.
Claire watched me leave.
Outside, the night air was cold.
I stood beneath the restaurant lights and waited for my cab.
Ethan followed me out.
“Mom.”
I kept looking at the street.
“Please.”
I finally turned.
“What?”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did.”
He looked down.
“I was under pressure.”
“From whom?”
He didn’t answer.
“Ethan.”
“Claire.”
I nodded.
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He looked at me.
“You don’t know what it feels like to watch your own child decide that being accepted by someone else matters more than standing beside you.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I love you.”
I believed him.
That was the painful part.
“You may love me,” I said softly. “But tonight, you didn’t act like it.”
He swallowed.
“I’ll fix it.”
“You can’t fix everything with one apology.”
“I’ll try.”
“Trying means something only when it changes what you do next.”
My cab arrived.
I opened the door.
Before getting inside, I looked at him one last time.
