Page 7 of Chasing My Bliss (Behind The Lens #6)

Felicity

“ S o, what did she say?” Ezra’s voice filters through Bluetooth.

“Lorna said it would be fine. She’s having another one of her cam girls partner with me.”

“See, I told you it would work out. Still coming over tonight?”

“I can't. Mom's wanting me to meet her for dinner. She has something she wants to talk to me about.” Mom’s being very secretive about the dinner and what she has to tell me. I've tried a few times to pry it out of her, but her lips are sealed.

“After?” I can hear the hint of optimism in his voice.

“Maybe. I'll call you when I'm done.”

“Okay baby. I’ll keep your side of the bed warm.”

I smile, still in awe that I have a man as wonderful as Ezra in my life.

“Babe, you there?” A slight panic is in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry. Just distracted.”

Distracted is an understatement. Overwhelmed, scared, and feeling completely out of control. From the calendar, to school, and now this mystery news Mom is planning to share, I feel like everything is out of my hands. The only thing that feels right is my relationship with Ezra.

“Well, I have some papers to grade and a grade curve to figure out. I hope to see you later. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I barely get the words out before the call disconnects, and the radio starts blaring my new song obsession. Pink Pony Club. The fucking lyrics just live rent free in my head.

When I pull into the driveway, I’m not expecting to see Mom's car already here. It's only four thirty, and she doesn't get off until five. Not wanting to block her in, I shift into reverse and back out, opting to park on the curb in front of the house instead.

I grab my bookbag from the seat and get out of the car, making sure to lock it behind me. It's not the greatest security, but an unlocked door is an invitation for any punk looking for a joyride.

When I step inside the house, the smell of garlic floods my senses. Pasta. It has to be.

“I’m home,” I announce as I set my bookbag on the floor and toss my jacket on the couch.

My feet move of their own accord, following the direction of the smell of the chicken.

Sure enough, on the stove is a large stockpot, and Mom is grilling chicken on the George Foreman she’s had for as long as I can remember.

“Are you making my favorite?” I ask in shock as I open the pantry and take out a bottle of water.

“Spaghetti, covered in meat sauce, and grilled chicken smothered with cheese. My baby girl’s favorite.”

“Not a baby,” I say, gritting my teeth as I remind her.

“I don't care how big you get, Felicity. You will always be my baby.” She places her hands on her hips as she glares at me. “Don't you forget it either.”

“Fine. I'm your baby.” I give her an eye roll that earns me a stern look. “So my favorite dinner. You must have something super important to share with me.”

She doesn't speak. We’re in a showdown but instead of guns, it’s stares as we wait to see who'll be the first to crack and look away.

“We could eliminate some of the tension in the room if you just tell me.” I cross my arms over my chest as we continue our little game.

“I'll tell you while we eat. Why don't you go ahead and set the table.”

Shit, this must be really big. Normally, we just eat our dinner in the living room.

She doesn't wait for me to argue with her. Nope, in true Christine fashion, she turns back around and finishes cooking.

Knowing I've lost the battle, I walk over to the cabinet, pull out two plates and glasses, then get silverware from the drawer.

God, please don't let her be pregnant. Twenty-one is too old to be getting a sibling that someone could mistake as my kid. Sure, I want kids one day, but not now, and when it happens, I want them to be mine. Plus, can we just… ewww. No one wants to imagine or have proof of their parents having sex. My body shakes as if something’s crawling on me just from the thought.

Once the table is set, I sit down and pull out my phone.

I'm not sure when Lorna will talk to Roxy, but I just want to check if I have a message. I’d really like to meet her first before we do the deed and get up close and personal.

But when I check, there’s nothing. Not even a call from a number I don't recognize.

“Do you need any more—” I shout just as Mom walks through the doorway and places a casserole dish of pasta and chicken on the table—“help?” I finish.

“Just something to drink would be lovely.” She immediately heads to the kitchen and I follow after her. I pick up my discarded bottle of water off the counter, then open the fridge and pull out the jug of iced tea. Mom's already heading out of the kitchen with a plate of garlic bread in hand.

Now that we have everything, we take a seat. “Let's dig in. How was your day at school? How’s Ezra?” My eyebrow raises and I give a slight shake of my head.

Mom's dodging the conversation she brought me here to have. It only has the pit in my stomach growing heavier. This thing she has to tell me must be bad. Suddenly I've lost my appetite for my favorite dish.

“School is school. Ezra is amazing. Now, what do you have to tell me?” I finally blurt in frustration.

“Felicity, can we please eat first and talk after? It feels like we never have time to do that anymore. We're either at work or out, our schedules never meshing.”

It's taking everything in me not to roll my eyes at her. “Yes, we can do that. School was great. Hard, but good. No work today, so that was amazing. So now, tell me what it is you wanted to tell me tonight.”

I dish some of the pasta and chicken onto my plate along with a piece of garlic bread while she sits there silently with pursed lips.

Fuck, was I too harsh?

“I'm sorry,” I whisper as I pick up my fork, twirling some spaghetti around the tines.

I lift the cheesy, saucy goodness taking my first bite as a mix of garlic flavors bursts in my mouth. While I chew each bite, I'm already winding more around my fork.

“Calvin and I are getting married. We’re eloping tomorrow.” She rushes out, not taking a breath between words.

I'm caught off guard, nearly choking on my food as I drop the fork to my plate, sauce splashing onto my shirt.

“What!?” My mom's face drops, her eyes welling with tears at my outburst.

“We're getting married.” Her voice is sharp as she looks down at her plate.

She's hurt. I can hear the hitch in her voice, the slight rise of her shoulders and the tremble in her hands.

It's all because of my reaction. I didn't act happy, more pissed. But it's not how I really feel.

“Mom, I’m sorry.” The room feels awkward and quiet, and I finally notice her shoulders shaking a little. I didn’t mean to sound mad. “I really am happy for you. Calvin seems like a good guy and he makes you happy. It just seems kind of sudden. And eloping?”

“But it's not sudden. We both know what we want and it's each other. When you get to be my age, Felicity, you'll understand.” She smiles warmly at me.

“Okay. But still, why elope? No wedding? No family?”

“We don't want anything fancy. Calvin knows how much I want to travel. We're going on a cruise and getting married on board. I'm fifty-two, Felicity, and I don't need some fancy affair. I want something quiet and simple, just him and me.”

“Okay, if that makes you happy… but I still want pictures. I mean, I get it—you want something simple—but I’m your only kid. It just feels kinda weird not being there, you know?”

I try to smile, try to sound light and okay with it, but there’s a small ache settling in my chest. Just the two of them. No family. No me. I know it’s her choice—her life—but I can’t lie, it stings a little. I always imagined I'd be there when my mom got remarried. At least invited .

I force a laugh to cover it up. “And Calvin better know if he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him. I’ve watched enough CSI to know how to hide a body.”

She laughs loudly, and I let go of her hand, picking up my fork to resume eating.

“I'll make sure to tell him.” She picks up her fork, but instead of eating, she simply moves her food around on the plate.

“There's more, isn't there?”

Mom doesn't answer, simply nods, confirming what I already know.

“You’re pregnant, aren't you?”

Her face doesn't give away her answer, but she doesn't deny it. Ahh shit.

We sit like that for a couple of minutes, both at a loss for words. Until she finally opens her mouth.

“You can stop being petrified. I'm not pregnant. Neither Calvin nor I want to raise any more children. Now grandkids, we'd love some of those, but not for a few more years.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief. Let’s be honest, I like being an only child. The fact I never had to share anything or get hand-me-downs was amazing. Not that I would get any now with a sibling having more than a twenty-year age difference with me.

“We're moving in with Calvin when we get back from our honeymoon. I've already let the landlord know and given our thirty day notice.”

The words land like a punch to the ribs. I blink, confused. This house—our mismatched curtains, the squeaky stairs, the sticker on my bedroom door from eighth grade—it’s ours . How can it just… not be?

“Me too?” I ask, unsure if I'm going to be happy with whatever answer she gives.

“Of course, silly. Where else would you go? Unless you and Ezra are at the stage of living together?”

“Definitely not at that stage. I've just gotten a key. Let's not rush things. But are you sure he wants me to live there?”

There's nothing worse than having your new step-daddy resent you.

“He was adamant. Now, I need you to start packing your belongings while I'm gone. When we get back, the movers will be here. I'm going to place the furniture in storage for you when you do decide to get your own place.”

Two weeks. To box up ten years of my life. To meet a stranger I’m supposed to fake chemistry with. To film a performance that could blow up my entire world. No pressure.