Page 35 of The Replay

"Mariana, hola." My mom's voice sounds softer than usual. "I've missed you."

I sigh. She's a good mom in so many ways, but our relationship is complicated. She's led by example, living by the highest standards, and prioritizing us,the family, and her goals every step of the way. And she also asks for so much, I've grown up afraid I'll make too many mistakes. Failure wouldn't break us. We're the kind of family where nothing really could. But criticism is still the consequence, when they're not proud of me anymore, and I haven't learned to let it slide off my back.

"Me too," I say sincerely. "How are you?"

"You first. How are things in Seattle?"

"Everything is going great. I'm settling in for the year and I'm working well with the team. All my projects are perfectly on schedule too, and you know how hard that is to achieve."

"Of course, but the Sinclair Montt family wasn't raised to be anything short of exceptional. I know you're working hard."

Between my mom's background in international diplomacy and my dad's entertainment business, they travel a lot. It resulted in a family where my siblings and I were born in different countries, between the UK, Canada, and the US. We grew up moving around, with different sets of kids in different countries. In all of them, we only got our dad's last name. It was a sore spot for Mom. In Chile, her country of birth, we would have gotten her last name as well. When we talk to each other, we pretend we did.

I sigh. "Of course I'm working hard, Mom."

"Good. I'm glad." A small silence fills the phone for a few seconds, like she's thinking about something. "I wondered how good things could be, having to work with an ex. It's why you left London, I thought. To get some space away from Henry and the tabloids after everything. And with Dominic in Seattle, playing for your employer…"

I stare at Dom. He's off the treadmill now. The towel hangs around his neck, and he holds the ends in his hands in a relaxed posture. Someone is taking the stickers off his chest, while he chats with the research people.

Dom is the one thorn in my plan for this year. A sexy thorn, but sharp. The kind you would clip off a rose, to not have to think of the risk again and enjoy all the good things at hand.

I close my eyes and turn away. "Mom. It's different."

"For sure. It's been a long time since you were together."

"Yes, it's been a long time. I thought you'd understand what I'm trying to do here— why I'm here— eventually."

"I understand. Mostly. I wondered because it seemed like such an intense young love you two had. If I were you, I would have picked a place far away from someone with whom I shared such a past."

"That's not helpful, Mom. I'm already here, and I've committed to helping the Strike for a season."

I clench my jaw. Tension tightens my stomach. A large window stands floor-to-ceiling in front of me. Trees, a few paths over a plaza, and buildings fill my retinas.

As casual as she keeps her tone, it doesn't hide the judgment threaded between the sentences. Mom is questioning my choices, and the urge to justify myself tickles in my chest.

I put an arm around myself and keep going before she can add more. "Coming to Seattle with Cora was the right decision. Things are going great. You'll see by the end of the season. Then I'll go back to England and work with Maisie the way I was always meant to."

I'll have something to be proud of. I may not be a perfect child anymore, not after Henry and the divorce. But while my siblings have all caused my parents grief in some way, they're all professionally successful. Achieving what I want with my career means I won't be the only Sinclair Montt family member who couldn't go far with everything given to us. And our life's work is what matters to the family most anyway.

"For sure, Mariana. I know that's your plan."

"And you don't have to worry about Dom. Nothing will happen there. If you could see us when we share the same room, you'd see all the magic is gone. So gone."

"Actually that's why I was calling. Cam and Luke are coming to play in Seattle in a few weeks. Why don't you join us? We know the owner— I'll get us a box if you want to invite your friends."

I laugh. "You think I'm going to invite Dom to see my brothers play?"

"I said friends. If that includes Dom, well— if things are as fine as you imply, then it shouldn't matter. It's up to you."

"I know what you think about what Dom and I used to have, but nothing could be farther from my mind. We've changed. We fight a lot. Why on earth would I invite him?"

"From what I hear, he's part of the group of friends you work the closest with. The people you've been out and about with. Isn't that why you think I'm talking about him? Unless you want to come to the game alone, you'll have to invite him as part of the group. Singling him out doesn't make sense either."

I rub my forehead with stiff fingers. Of course she's keeping track of these things. In her head, she's making sure I follow the plan so she can respond accordingly if I don't. To me, it's pressure building behind a dam filling up too fast.

Shit. Anxiety electrifies the layers under my skin. It's building up. I'm not sure how long I can keep it at bay.

"Things are over with Dom, Mom. So over. I couldn't care less about having him around or not. Do you want to see it yourself? Do I need to invite him to prove this to you?"