My toes tap with nerves against the white marble floor as I wait for my Uber to arrive. My suitcase is on the smaller side, just enough to get me through a five-day stay in Seattle. I’m not sure how long it’ll
take me to find an apartment, especially one I can afford, but I figured I could use the extra time to explore my new city, and being away from Chicago, where no one knows me, will be good.
There’s no crowd stalking me outside my apartment today, which is a bit surprising, seeing as Zanders and the team won at home last night, clinching their spot in the Stanley Cup Finals. But now that they’ve got their pictures and there’s nothing left to hide, it seems like reporters couldn’t care less about who I am.
Chicago’s first Stanley Cup berth in eight years overtook the headlines, and even though I didn’t look, I’d assume anything about me or our relationship was just a footnote in comparison.
“Doesn’t look like you’re heading to Pittsburgh,” our doorman notes, referring to the team traveling there tomorrow, his eyes locked on my suitcase in tow.
“Not this time.” I offer him a small smile before averting my attention back to the glass doors, waiting for my ride.
He stands next to me, his hands folded behind his back. “You know, Miss Shay. I see a lot. I hear a lot, and I keep a lot of secrets. But you’d have to be blind not to see how much you’re going to hurt that boy if you don’t tell him you’re moving.”
My eyes dart to him. “How’d you know?”
“Been doing this job for forty-seven years. I pick up on things.”
Before I can respond, a figure across the street catches my attention. Her slender frame. Her shiny black hair, styled in a sleek low bun. The overly expensive purse that hangs on her arm.
“Excuse me,” I absentmindedly add to our doorman before leaving my suitcase in the lobby with him and darting outside.
“Lindsey!” I yell as I look in both directions before running across the street to catch up with her. “Lindsey!” I shout again, but she doesn’t turn around, continuing straight for Zanders’ building.
“Lindsey,” I add one last time, lightly grabbing her arm before she heads up his front steps.
She turns around to face me, confusion plastered on her face.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” My arm retreats. “I thought you were someone else.” Her hazel eyes are strikingly similar, not to mention her cheeky smile. I shake my head, not believing myself.
“How do you know my daughter?” she asks.
My eyes widen at that. What is she doing here? Does Zanders know she’s here? She can’t be here, not right now. Not when there’s so much on the line for him.
“What are you doing here?” I harshly ask.
Her entire body rolls with attitude. “Excuse me?”
“I know who you are. You’re Evan’s mom. What the hell are you doing here?”
Her gaze works the length of my body, taking in and judging every inch. My oversized and thrifted clothes are unimpressive to her, I’m sure, especially compared to her designer purse and shoes. She clutches the handles of her expensive bag with her manicured hands, grasping onto them like they hold all the value in the world.
She looks like Zanders, but at the same time, they’re nothing alike.
“I don’t know who you think you are”—her brows furrow in disgust
—“but he invited me here.”
What? Why the hell would he do that? And this week of all weeks?
She turns her back on me, heading up the steps in her red-bottom heels that have seen better days.
“You missed out, you know!” I call out, causing her to stop partway, turning towards me. She stands steps above me, looking down. “He’s amazing, your son. No thanks to you.”
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” She leisurely steps down in my direction as if she’s stalking her prey.
I stand tall, shoulders back. “I’m talking to the woman who left her sixteen-year-old son because his dad didn’t make enough money to buy her shit. That’s you, in case you were confused.”
Her eyes narrow with a suspicious stare. “Mind your business. This has nothing to do with you. This is between my son and me. I don’t even know who you are.”
“Is that supposed to be surprising?” I release a condescending laugh. “No shit, you don’t know who I am. You’ve been AWOL the last twelve years.”
“You—”
I hold my hand up, cutting her off. “I’m not done. Your son might not be able to see it or say it to your face, but he’s better off without you. Who does that? Who leaves their teenage kid then comes back around when he’s making more money than she could ever dream of? You left him! He just wanted his mom to love him and you fucking left. But the joke’s on you because he’s the best person I know, and he became that man all on his own with no thanks to you. You have no idea what you left behind.”
I turn away from the woman who gave birth to Zanders, but I’m only halfway back to my apartment before I change my mind and face her again. “Stop coming around for his money. You’re just embarrassing yourself. You did him a favor by leaving.” I add two middle fingers for a bit of dramatic flair before I duck into the lobby of my building to wait for my car once again.
