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.
