Chapter 2

The moment the door swung open, my mom's gaze was sharp enough to slice the man at the door in half.

She snapped, "Nice of you to finally show up."

Ryan Stone stood at the doorway, his coat still carrying the chill from outside.

He set down what he was holding and inclined his head politely to my mom.

"Mrs. Summers, I'm sorry for making you and Mr. Summers wait so long," he said.

My mom let out a cold snort.

"Three years of being 'busy', huh? Even when we reach out first, it's like pulling teeth to get you to show up," my mom grumbled.

My dad didn't say a word, but his hand holding the coffee cup stayed perfectly still.

Ryan stepped inside and sat down beside me.

I was about to explain to my mom, but he gently pressed his hand over mine, stopping me.

Then he handed the cheesecake to my mom, sounding natural. "Mrs. Summers, I'm sorry. Work kept me tied up in surgery, so I couldn't make it sooner. Lily said you love the cheesecake, so I brought it to make it up to you."

My mom took it, her eyes softening a little. "It's pretty difficult to get a cheesecake from this bakery. You have to wait in line for two hours."

"I happened to be nearby this morning, so I waited in line for a bit," Ryan replied.

But I knew he lived on the east side of town, and that old bakery was all the way over in West Glenbrook.

He'd have to go all the way across town, which would take him three hours round-trip.

As I watched him, my throat tightened and I almost teared up. It wasn't only because I was moved.

It was because, for the first time in ages, someone treated me like a person worth remembering, not a bank account people transfer money to and forget about.

Three months ago, right before my mom's sixtieth birthday, my parents were supposed to meet up with Alex for the fourth time.

Alex threw his arm around my shoulders and swore, "This time, I promise I'll be there, and I'll get your mom that cheesecake she loves."

I was hesitant at first, but seeing the determination in his face, I couldn't help but trust him.

On the day of her sixtieth birthday, my mom pulled out her favorite dress from the back of her closet, and my dad even put on a tie for once.

The relatives were whispering among themselves, "Where's Lily's boyfriend? He's a big shot, right? Is he that hard to get a hold of?"

My mom smiled and smoothed things over. "He's stuck in traffic, but he'll be here any minute."

The food kept getting cold, then reheated, then cold again.

My mom quietly pulled me into the kitchen. "Call him and see where he is now. I hope nothing has happened to him."

I called him seven times, but Alex never picked up.

I sent him a WhatsApp message, and got an auto-reply: [Received.]

Just then, Emily posted something new on Facebook.

The first photo showed Alex at the train station, holding up a sign that read "Mr. and Mrs. Brooks."

The second photo showed him helping two elderly people with their suitcases, grinning like he was trying to win them over.

The third photo showed the cheesecake from that old bakery in West Glenbrook—the one he had promised to get for my mom—sitting on Emily's coffee table.

The caption read, "My parents came to visit me. Alex had to pick them up and even brought a present. He's more thoughtful than their own son."

I stared at that box of cheesecake until my eyes burned, feeling a lump stuck right in my throat.

When I walked back into the room, I heard Wendy, my uncle's wife, holding my mom's hand and saying, "Lily's boyfriend is not some kind of con artist, is he?"

My mom paused, wine glass in hand, for a moment.

"No, he's not," she replied, her voice strained. "He's busy with work."

She gripped her dress at the waist so tightly that the fabric was creased.