Ethan followed me with his gaze as I pace restlessly in the kitchen. He sat small on the chair, still in his PJs as he ate his cereal. We finally had one thing in common – well, physically: bedhead. The call from Howard Samuels kept me up all night. I overslept. If it hadn't been for Ethan bouncing on the bed, I'd woke up in the middle of the day.

My laptop perches on the counter, like a reminder of my hard work and current restlessness. I chewed on my lip, my phone over my ear as I wait for Julie to pick up. She missed a couple of calls. I tried again, desperate now. I need to talk to her.

My breath came out in a shaky breath when she finally answered. "Thank, God. Where have you been?"

"Okay, holy shit, I just heard. You need to tell me exactly how much Howard Samuels begged you," Julie started off from the other line.

"Jules, "beg" is a strong word."

"Pleaded?" She asks.

"Requested," I corrected. "He called me yesterday. My replacement hasn't been doing very good. The readership depleted strikingly over the past few weeks I was gone."

"Those were his exact words?"

My eyes flitted to a beaming Ethan showing me an empty bowl of his breakfast. I gave him an appreciative smile before reaching for the box of cookies on the shelves. I took one cookie and gave it to him – his real reward for finishing his breakfast.

He thrusts his bottom lip at me and gestured two fingers.

I shake my head. One cookie.

"Please?" He showed me his clean bowl again.

Caving in, I took another one.

He gave me a winning smile.

"Yes. Those are his exact words. And I remember him telling me the matter is urgent or he wouldn't have called."

She scoffed. "He finally swallowed his big-ass pride."

I laugh.

"I know this would happen. I read the guy's stuff and it's so stiff. What else did he say?"

"That he needs those readers back and," I suck in a deep breath, "he needs me."

There was silence on the other line.

"Julie?"

"I'm still here. Dear, ole Betty just passed my desk and did a double take on my skirt. He said he needs you, what else?"

I propped my hand on my waist. "Well, aren't you surprised?"

"Why?" She asks, genuinely confused.

"Because he said he needed me. And he also said I'm an exceptional writer and I have always had this potential," I continued with a slight, disbelieving laugh.

I heard her snort. "You're seriously not surprised about that, are you?"

"Well, I know he was just trying to butter me up, but I will be lying if I say it hadn't flattered me. My ego is about the size of Titanic right now." I leaned against the counter, keeping watchful glances to Ethan.

"Chassie, what are you talking about? You are an exceptional writer. Honestly, I'm more surprised that you're surprised about this."

I sighed. "Jules—"

"No. I need you to know how you're doing a great job on your column and still not be cocky about it. We've been editing each other's draft since the beginning of crap and every single time I read yours I get scared a little because I know if you ever get bored of this hell hole and send those articles with your résumé somewhere else, I'll be left behind. You got a killer portfolio. You write good stuff. Really good stuff."

My lips parted, stunned. "Okay. Easy on the compliments, they might get to my head."

"Good. Because I need you to get it all through your self-doubting skull. And for the record, you were never in a writing rut. Readership was steady. And that meant loyal readership. Howard has just been a stupid dick about it."

"Jules, that was sweet." A smile played on my lips.

She takes out a sigh. "Just to be clear, I'm talking in a professional place here. Not as a friend."

I chuckle. "Noted."

She then lets out a delighted squeal. "Days of my miserable working hours are over. Your desk has been missing you for quite a while now. And I ate loads of your Hershey's Kisses. Will that strain our friendship?"

"Hardly."

"You have them lying around, it's so tempting. Welp, I got to go. Story assignments used to thrill me." She groaned, then told me to call her at lunch.

Even when the call ended, my phone remained over my ear, half-elated, half-hesitant to let the flattery boost the writer's ego in me.

"Good morning." My mom and dad came from the garden, dad in his overalls, mom elegant in her hat that was supposed to shield her from the sun. "Is it still early?"

"No. Mommy overslept," Ethan volunteers. "Did the herbs grew, grandpa?"

My dad's mouth stretched into a splitting smile. "They did. Come, I'll show you."

Ethan happily leaps off his chair and sauntered over to his grandpa. They walk hand in hand, leaving trails of laughter behind.

Mom takes off her hat and regarded me with curious eyes. "What's in your beautiful mind, sweetheart?"

"My boss called me yesterday." It took me my strongest will not to rave on. But I did, just a little.

She pulled me into a hug. "Oh, honey, that's great."

I stepped back into an arm's length to look into her eyes. The sheen of tears in them was the first thing my mind registered. Something chipped off at my chest. "You don't think it's good news?"

She blinks, discouraging her tears and shakes her head. "It's a perfect news."

"But you're about to cry." I reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"They're tears of joy. Just a touch of sadness, that's all."

"Mom." I tugged her into another hug.

She lets out a watery laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm happy, Chassie George. I'm just the tiniest bit sad that I'm back to missing you every day."

"Mom, we do regular phone calls and FaceTimes," I said, noticing that my voice was growing thick with emotion.

My mother touches my cheek. "I know, sweetie. But this is different," she squeezes my hand, "And this," she plants a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I close my eyes, nodding, letting her know I get what she meant.

"God, sometimes I have to wonder who raised you. You're more than what I thought you could be. And I'm so proud." She lets a tear fall.

A bile formed in my throat.

She wiped the tear with her finger.

We twisted around to the sliding doors where dad and Ethan were just making their way back inside. Dad had been laughing, paused when he sees us. His gaze lingered on mom. Lingered for another second – my parents' communication that I've seen all my life.

His eyes softened as if to comfort her. Then his smile waned.

The silent exchange between my parents pulled at the strings of my chest. This is the second time we were having the situation. Yet I couldn't help but wonder if my parents had looked this way the first time. And that I have been too set in my way to notice.