Chapter 44 - What About Your Future? #3
"Four out of ten."
"Better."
"Started at nine."
"Significant improvement."
She laughed softly.
Then—
"She apologized for Carlo."
I blinked.
"Actually?"
"Yes."
"Full apology?"
"Medium apology."
"What does that mean?"
"She's sorry she pushed too hard."
"Not sorry for pushing?"
"Correct."
"Progress."
"Unfortunately."
I smiled.
Then—
"She still thinks I'm making my life harder."
"Okay."
"She still wants grandchildren."
"Understandable."
"She still hopes I somehow magically decide men are interesting."
"Ambitious."
Tori laughed.
"She said she isn't ready."
There.
That was honest.
Not—
I accept.
Not—
everything is fine.
Just—
not ready.
"What did you say?"
"I said I wasn't asking her to be ready before I lived my life."
There.
I smiled.
"That sounds like you."
"She cried again."
"Also sounds like her."
Tori sighed.
"Then I cried."
"Oh."
"Awful."
"Human."
"I hate crying during arguments."
"Reduced operational clarity."
"Exactly."
I smiled.
Then her voice softened.
"She asked if I love you."
I went completely still.
Oh.
No.
Current relationship.
Weeks.
Not there.
Maybe not there.
No pressure.
"What did you say?"
Tori was quiet for a second.
"I said not yet."
My chest loosened.
Interesting that it had tightened.
Then—
"I said I really like you."
I smiled.
"Accurate."
"And I want to see where this goes."
Also accurate.
"And that if it ends, it ends."
There.
"She hated that."
"I imagine."
"But I told her choosing something without a guarantee doesn't make the choice stupid."
I looked out the window.
That sentence could have belonged to me.
Across lifetimes.
Interesting.
"What did she say?"
"She said she doesn't want me hurt."
"Of course."
"I told her I don't want me hurt either."
I laughed softly.
"Strong alignment."
"But that's not something she can prevent by choosing my partner."
"No."
Pause.
Then—
"She asked about you."
"What specifically?"
"Your family."
"Okay."
"Work."
"Okay."
"Whether you're serious."
I paused.
"What did you say?"
"That you are."
Something warm settled in my chest.
Not love.
Not destiny.
Just—
seen.
Then Tori added—
"She asked if you want children."
I froze.
Oh.
There.
Actual future question.
Not abstract anymore.
"What did you tell her?"
"That I don't know."
Correct.
We had not discussed it.
At all.
"Then she asked if I do."
I waited.
"And?"
Tori was quiet.
"I don't know either."
Interesting.
Not problem.
Just information.
"Okay."
"You're not panicking?"
"No."
"Really?"
"We've been girlfriends for approximately eleven minutes."
She laughed.
"Longer."
"Marginally."
"So we're not making a reproductive strategic plan tonight?"
"Deeply disappointing, I know."
She laughed again.
Better.
Then—
"She said we should talk about it."
I considered.
"She isn't wrong."
Silence.
Tori laughed.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"You finally agree with my mother."
"Record the date."
"Never."
"Important family milestone."
"Absolutely not."
I smiled.
"But not now."
"Agreed."
"When it becomes relevant."
"Agreed."
There.
Easy.
No panic.
No promise.
Current relationship.
Current questions only.
Then Tori said—
"She wants you to come to dinner again."
I stopped.
"What?"
"Next Sunday."
"Your mother?"
"Yes."
"Voluntarily?"
"She said she'd like to know you better."
I leaned back.
Interesting.
Not acceptance.
Not resolution.
But—
different.
"Should I bring Carlo?"
Tori went silent.
Then—
"Relationship terminated."
I started laughing.
There.
That one she could keep.
"Okay, okay."
"You're terrible."
"Fruit?"
"Fruit."
"Cassava cake?"
Long pause.
Then—
"My mother specifically asked if your mother made it."
I smiled.
Oh.
There we go.
"Dangerous."
"What?"
"They're establishing trade relations."
"Please don't call it that."
"Bilateral food diplomacy."
"Lia."
I laughed.
Then—
"I'll come."
Pause.
Tori's voice softened.
"Thank you."
"Of course."
And after we ended the call—
I sat there for a while.
Thinking.
Not about whether Tita Elena liked me.
Not really.
That wasn't the important part.
She was scared.
She had handled that fear badly.
Repeatedly.
Intensely.
She had crossed boundaries.
Tried to manufacture alternatives.
Turned hypothetical pain into evidence against Tori's current life.
And Tori—
for the first time, maybe—
was refusing to become easier just to make her mother proud again.
That mattered.
Not because I was the girlfriend.
Even if I disappeared tomorrow—
that still mattered.
This wasn't Tori choosing me over her family.
It was Tori asking her family to know the version of her that didn't fit neatly on the wall beside eight framed awards.
Not easy daughter.
Not successful daughter.
Not understandable daughter.
Just—
Tori.
Her mother wasn't there yet.
Maybe she would get there.
Maybe not completely.
But next Sunday—
she wanted me back at the table.
For now—
that was enough.