Chapter 14

In the apartment, I mentally prepare to make some toast, repeating what Aiden said over and over in my head. Since my eating habits started, I haven't been motivated to stop. I know it won't be that easy. Maybe with Aiden's help, I can make small, even tiny changes.

I almost leap out of my skin when a doorbell sounds, cutting through the apartment. Moving to the front door, I say, "Yes?" On the wall next to the door, there's a small button with contact written underneath it, with a small speaker attached. I wonder if it links to Aiden? Is that what I want?

"It's me. It's M-Molly."

That's exactly what I did, the stuttering thing, trying to decide between calling her by her name or Mom. I almost tell her to go away. I want nothing to do with her, but then she says, "I'm sorry for before, Ania. I shouldn't have reacted like that. Please let me in."

"I don't have any way to open it from in here."

"I mean, can I come in, then?"

I mutter a small yes, trying my best to sound composed. When she opens the door, she looks more human, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Something in the way she moves reminds me of, well, me. Maybe it's the way she has her arms folded across her middle.

"Do you want a drink?" I say, turning away.

"Anna," she says. Then, she quickly corrects herself. "Ania …"

"I think there's coffee or soda or juice or?—"

She grabs my hand, turning me toward her. Her eyes are glistening. Her lips are trembling. I try to be strong, but all the times I've imagined this moment are stacking up and slamming into me—all those times I dreamed of this. After searching "mother-daughter reunion literature" online, I read all the books, binging stories I never dreamed could come true.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, stroking her finger over my knuckles like she's trying to convince herself I'm real. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I've dreamed of seeing you countless times again, and I ruined it."

She bursts into tears, and then I'm crying, too. She pulls me into her arms. I can't believe how natural it feels as I collapse against her, wrapping my arms around her and clinging to her tightly. I can't believe how right it feels, just me and my mom—my mom.

"We've got so much catching up to do," she whispers, fighting past her sobs as she strokes my hair. "The last time I saw you, you fit in my hand. You were such a small baby."

"People say I'm a pretty small grownup, too."

She laughs, wrapping her arms even tighter around me. We stay like that for a long time. Finally, she says, "Let your mother make you a drink and a snack, okay? Let's start with the basics."

More food? As she busies herself in the kitchen, I realize I don't want her to see that side of me. She hasn't got the whole mind-reading thing going on like Aiden. She doesn't notice how I cringe when she brings over a couple of sandwiches with thick slices of ham and all the trimmings.

"Tell me everything, Anna … Ania."

"You can call me Anna," I say, "if that's the name you wanted to give me."

She smiles. "So … everything."

"So it was the grace of ballet that caught your interest, then?"

My head swims as Mom leans forward, all her attention locked on me. We've been talking for around twenty minutes. She's just been quizzing me about what books I like to read, what type of ballet I enjoy, if I have any friends (not really), or if I've ever had a boyfriend (never). She also doesn't seem to mind I'm only nibbling my sandwich.

"It's the best combination of beauty and technique," I tell her. "To be beautiful, you have to be precise. You have to work hard. You can't just be beautiful. I guess I liked that because, well, I don't know."

"You know you're beautiful, don't you, Anna?"

Mom touches my hand. A nasty part of me whispers that this is all a trick. Maybe she's not even my mother, except she looks like me, and I feel it, too—a warmth buried deep inside.

"Not really," I murmur after a pause.

"You are," she says, squeezing my hand with so much support that my head is swimming. "Ballet, technique, that just makes you more beautiful."

I swallow, my belly warbling. There's no way I can eat any more of that sandwich, but Mom doesn't seem like she's going to force me. "Thank you," I whisper.

"I mean it."

"What about you?" I ask. "What do you enjoy doing?"

"Oh, let me think," she laughs with an endearing, guilty smile. "I like shopping. That's my true passion: shopping and handbags. See, Anna? You're the talented one in the family. I'm just here to cheer you on."

This almost makes me cry. I take a long sip of my water so she can't see the effect she's having on me. I want to leap onto her lap, throw my arms around her, hug her tightly, and tell her that her words mean everything to me. But I have to be careful because what if …

She's about to say something else when the doorbell sounds again. It's annoying because we were just getting into the flow of the conversation. Mom seems to sense how bothered I am. "Don't worry," she says with a wink. "We'll get rid of all these nasty men soon."

I laugh. It's hard not to, despite everything. A kidnapping, confusing need, a burned-down lodge, and I'm laughing!

"Yes?" Mom calls.

"It's me," Aiden replies.

Mom looks at me. "Well, shall we let the big bad beastie in?"

"I guess we should," I reply with another smile.

"Come in," my mother calls over.

Aiden opens the door. I try not to let my mother see how badly I want to move my gaze over him, especially those enormous arms and his broad chest. I'd feel so safe if he held me, but there are too many reasons and obstacles against that. He walks over to the table.

"I'm meeting with your brothers tomorrow morning," he tells me.

This should be good news, but what if they try to make me come home? Wait, isn't that what I want?

"Okay," I mutter.

"Do you want to be there?" he asks.

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe. What are you meeting about?"

He tilts his head at me. "You, Ania. What else?"

"Oh."

"I thought you wanted to go home."

I stand up, walking through my open-plan prison and into the living room. "A lot has happened, okay? Am I just supposed to make decisions like that?" I snap my fingers.

"Give her some space," Mom says quietly.

"You don't have to decide right away."

"Is there anything else?" I say with my back turned.

Aiden sighs heavily. I want to turn around and see the intense look on his face so badly, but I purposefully keep myself aimed away. "No, speak tomorrow."

He leaves with heavy footsteps. I only let myself turn back when I hear the door close. I realize my mother is watching me closely.

"He's not a bad person," she says.

"He kidnapped me."

"Hmm."

That makes me smile more than it should. The hmm makes me think of Aiden. Even though he just left, I already miss him.

"Anyway," Mom says, waving a hand, "he's right. You don't have to decide anything right now. Sit down, Anna. Let's keep talking."

I return to the table, drinking more of my mother's attention and how she looks at me as though I'm the only person who matters. I never realized how badly I needed that.