I smiled faintly.
“I know you were worried.”
“Yes. But I should have asked.”
I looked toward the river.
She continued.
“I’ve spent so much time telling people how proud I am of Francesca and her plans. I haven’t been paying attention to yours.”
My throat tightened.
“Mom, you don’t have to compare us.”
“I know.”
She paused.
“That’s another thing I need to learn.”
We talked for nearly an hour.
For the first time, I explained what Ardent actually did.
I told her about our products, our employees, and the difficult integration work.
I also told her about the parts of the job that frightened me.
The responsibility.
The exhaustion.
The decisions that affected people who had families and obligations of their own.
Mom listened.
Then she said, “That sounds like a lot to carry.”
I smiled sadly.
“It is.”
She was quiet.
Then she asked, “Are you happy?”
The question surprised me.
Most people wanted to know how successful the company was.
How much it was worth.
Whether the acquisition had gone well.
My mother wanted to know whether I was happy.
I thought about it.
“Sometimes.”
She laughed softly.
“That’s an honest answer.”
I smiled.
“I love the work. But I need to be better about having a life outside it.”
“Well,” she said, “Sunday dinner is a good place to start.”
I laughed.
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, sweetheart. Come.”
So I did.
The next Sunday, I arrived early.
Mom was in the kitchen making lasagna.
Dad was setting the table.
Francesca was opening a bottle of sparkling water.
Aunt Roberta came in carrying a pie.
She stopped when she saw me.
“Simone, I owe you an apology.”
I smiled.
“Mom already gave me one. We might be running out of room.”
Roberta laughed nervously.
Then she became serious.
“I assumed the worst because I thought I knew what your silence meant.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
She touched my arm.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
Then she added, “And if you ever do need a staffing agency, I still know someone.”
I laughed.
“So I’ve heard.”
For the first time in months, the dinner felt easy.
Nobody discussed Owen.
Nobody asked about the hiring process.
My father wanted to know how our software helped warehouses manage inventory.
I explained it using examples from his old repair business.
Francesca asked whether our engineers ever had disagreements about product design.
I told her they disagreed constantly.
Mom asked whether I was eating properly.
I admitted that my habits could improve.
She handed me another serving of lasagna.
“Then start here.”
Everyone laughed.
I looked around the table.
The same people who’d spent months believing I was unemployed were now asking about my work with genuine curiosity.
And I was finally answering.
There were still awkward moments.
Aunt Roberta occasionally introduced me to people as “our family’s CEO,” which made me wish I could disappear beneath the table.
Dad began reading business articles about data companies, sometimes sending me links to stories about competitors and asking whether I knew the people involved.
Mom started reminding me to call before I reached the point of exhaustion.
And Francesca began inviting me over on Sundays when the whole family wasn’t gathering.
We developed our own routine.
She cooked.
I brought dessert or wine.
We talked about work, relationships, books, and the strange things people say when they think they’re being helpful.
Sometimes we said nothing for a while.
That was comfortable too.
One evening, several months after the engagement ended, Francesca asked me a question.
“Do you ever feel bad about how Owen’s interview went?”
I thought carefully.
“I feel bad that he put himself in that position.”
She looked at me.
“But not about the decision?”
“No.”
I set down my glass.
“He claimed qualifications he hadn’t earned. He couldn’t explain important parts of his own application. The hiring panel had to take that seriously.”
Francesca nodded.
Then she said, “He really believed everyone exaggerated.”
“I know.”
“Do they?”
“Some people do.”
I looked at her.
“But that doesn’t make it harmless.”
She was quiet.
I continued.
“Imagine hiring someone to lead a technical integration because they claimed experience they didn’t actually have. The people depending on their decisions could lose months of work. Customers could be affected. Employees could be blamed for problems they didn’t create.”
Francesca considered that.
“So it wasn’t about making him feel small.”
“No.”
I smiled faintly.