Mistakes Were Made

Erin didn’t feel like a bad parent for making Parker drive home; she did feel like a bad parent for thinking of Cassie on the drive.

Erin had just been so mean. Cassie hadn’t deserved that. Erin had belittled her. She hadn’t needed to. There was a middle ground between being honest and being cruel that she had skipped right over. If she weren’t in a car with her daughter, she’d text Cassie. Explain herself. Or—not explain herself, because she couldn’t talk about honesty with Cassie, that was the point, but she’d make it better, somehow.

It was probably a good thing Parker was driving her home.

When she woke up the next morning still thinking of Cassie, Erin sent the text she’d been considering the night before.

Erin [Today 7:03 AM]

I shouldn’t have been so rude. Parker is really looking forward to you visiting, and I am happy to have you.



* * *



Three weeks later, when Parker and Cassie rounded the corner in the airport, Erin had five uninterrupted seconds before Parker caught sight of her. She used them on Cassie. Cassie, who was in gray joggers and a hooded Keckley sweatshirt. Cassie, whose hair was piled in a bun on top of her head, or not quite the top of her head—messy and loose, it teetered sideways with every step. Cassie, who made Erin’s heart thump hard against her sternum.

And then Parker saw her and beamed, and Erin couldn’t do anything but beam right back.

“Baby!” she called.

Her arms were wide and her daughter rushed into them. It hadn’t even been a month since they’d last seen each other, but the hug loosened something in Erin anyway.

Cassie adjusted her backpack over her shoulder. She didn’t have a poker face to save her life, and Erin had no idea how they were supposed to do this.

They had an awkward moment of should-we, shouldn’t-we before Erin made the decision and hugged Cassie. Maybe she shouldn’t have. Maybe it was weird to hug your kid’s friend who you’d only met once. Erin had known Parker’s other friends since they were little; Nashua was small enough that most of them had gone to the same middle school—small enough Erin had gone to middle school with some of their parents. Cassie hugged her back, though. Erin wished it were uncomfortable; it’d be better for it to be awkward than for Cassie’s body to meld itself against hers so easily.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Erin said, because Cassie never responded to her apology text, and she really was sorry.

Cassie just nodded at her.

“C’mon let’s get our bags,” Parker said, already heading away. “You’re making pot roast, tonight, right?”

“I swear you only like me for my cooking.”

“Nah, the college tuition helps, too.”

Erin rolled her eyes at Cassie, giving her a little smile. They could do this. They could be fine. She matched Cassie’s pace as they walked toward baggage claim. Cassie played on her phone and said nothing, shuffling along in socks and Adidas sandals.

Before their bags arrived, Parker disappeared to the restroom. Cassie was still focused on her phone. Erin tried not to look at her. The airport was small, only two luggage carousels. Other passengers from the same flight milled around. Erin eavesdropped on a couple with matching gray curls as they bickered about how expensive airline tickets were. Out of the corner of her eye, Erin saw Cassie slide her phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt, before both hands came up to take her hair out of the messy bun. Erin was staring by this point—she couldn’t help it. Cassie’s movement was like a rock skipping across a flat pond, breaking through the stillness.

“No more pink?” Erin asked.

Cassie looked at her, brows furrowing.

“In your hair,” Erin clarified.

“Oh,” Cassie said. “Nah. I’m too lazy to keep it up, and I’ve got grad school interviews in the spring.”

“She’s gonna abandon us for California,” Parker said with a whine as she returned from the bathroom.

“Is she?” Erin asked like it was possible she’d forgotten a single moment of their conversation at breakfast over Family Weekend.

Cassie shrugged. “Assuming Caltech recognizes a good thing when they see it.”

“Oh right. That’s where you’re going to learn to be an astronaut.”

Cassie groaned and Parker giggled. It wasn’t weird, then, how Erin remembered Parker teasing Cassie about that. It wasn’t too friendly for Erin to join in the teasing—Parker certainly looked delighted. Cassie had settled, too, no longer fidgeting and grimacing like she was when they first said hello. Maybe the next two weeks wouldn’t be impossible after all.

They all settled in further as they ate dinner. Cassie asked for seconds of the roast and potatoes, though apparently one serving of green beans was enough for her. Parker had always been talkative when she first arrived home—whether from a trip or simply a day at school. Once she’d finished updates of her classes and stopped to take a breath, Erin snuck in a question.

“And what about Sam?”

“Pass the potatoes, please,” Parker said as though Erin hadn’t spoken.

“Oh, do you not know?” Cassie said, a gleeful smirk on her face. “Your daughter is quite the exhibitionist.”

Erin raised her brows and Parker hissed, “Cassie.”

“It’s not my fault you made out with her in front of like a hundred people!”

Parker’s face froze in fury, and Cassie looked relentlessly pleased with herself. Erin bit her lip to hold in her laughter.

“That’s fine. I’m not embarrassed about it,” Parker said, though her cheeks were pink. She reached to grab the bowl of potatoes herself, then added a scoop to her plate. “Unlike some people—sneaking around with a secret lover.”

Erin blinked. What did that mean?

“You never told us who you were talking to that night,” Parker continued. “Maybe you’re the one who’s embarrassed.”

Erin didn’t know what Parker was talking about, but it didn’t seem good—the way Cassie’s eyes cut to Erin’s and away, as her throat worked to swallow her bite of pot roast.

“We did tell you. My secret lover is Acacia. We’ve been hiding our love for years.”

Parker leveled a look at Cassie. “I was with Acacia; you couldn’t have been talking to her. You were off by yourself drunk dialing someone else.”

Erin looked at her plate. Maybe she did know what they were talking about. She’d never deleted the texts from that night.

“Maybe I wasn’t dialing anyone,” Cassie said. She was studiously not looking at Erin. “Maybe Acacia and I were just sexting.”

Erin’s fork clattered against her plate.

“Shit. Sorry,” Cassie muttered. “The dinner table is probably not the best place to discuss sexting.”

Parker snickered, and Erin cleared her throat. Cassie could talk about sexting all she wanted—it was that she was actually talking about sexting Erin. Sure, Parker didn’t know, but Erin did.

“Yes, well,” Erin said. “I’d still like to hear more about Sam.”

Parker heaved out a sigh. “I’d like to hear more about dessert, instead. Did you make pie?”

“I’m making two pies for Christmas Eve, Parker. You don’t need three pies in one week.”

“Says who?”

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