Gemma is glum beside me in the passenger seat, nearly pouting out of the window. Knowing it's not the dinner party souring her mood - she's more than excited to see Connor again - I wonder what else it could be.

"You okay, Gem?" I spare a glance in her direction before resuming focus on the road, blurred by the rain hitting my windshield.

Not one to need much prompting, Gemma sighs and leans her head against the headrest, turning her large eyes to my face. "It's Mom and Dad. They're on me about getting a job again,"

I offer a sympathetic smile. More and more recently, her parents have been attempting to get Gemma to settle down, to lead a more "normal" life. When we pull to a stop sign, I take a look at my friend, like a bird in a cage, dying to stretch her wings.

How long has it been since Gemma went on a trip?

I try to count the months and decide it's the longest she's ever been in one place since she started her travels, anyways. While I love having my best friend around, I hate to see her like this.

"I don't know how to make them see it - the trips I've been on, the people I've met, I'm learning more from them than I ever would stuck at a desk in a stuffy office." Her eyes flash to my face. "No offense."

"None taken," I shrug. To each their own. "Maybe they're worried about what'll happen when they aren't around anymore,"

Gemma rolls her eyes. "Please, I've barely made a dent in my inheritance. They're just tired of explaining why their flighty daughter isn't part of the family company,"

I grimace knowing she is probably right. I've never liked Gemma's parents - they were always more concerned with how things appeared, rather than how they actually were. It's amazing Gemma turned out so wonderfully.

"Whatever, don't let me kill the buzz. Let's get our dinner party on," She wiggles her eyebrows at me and once again, she's the Gemma that can liven up any room.

Adam's mother is tall, taller than even me, with an easy confidence to match. A pile of intricate braids sits atop her head like a crown to finish off her impeccable, and likely expensive fashion sense. A more feminine version of her son, I see Adam in the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles to greet us into the spacious apartment.

"This must be Emma?" She grins at me, extending her arms for a hug once we've removed our rain coats. Turning to Gemma, she smirks slightly at her faded strawberry hair. "And you must be Gemma, the girl my unofficial son keeps gabbing about." Gemma giggles before giving the woman a quick embrace. "I'm Judith, it's nice to meet you both. Please come in, Adam is setting the table and I think Connor is still in the shower." Her expression is slightly disapproving and I'm glad that for once, Gemma was on time.

"Ma, do you think this looks done?" We find Adam in the kitchen, peering into the oven and letting delicious wafts of pot roast into the air. The kitchen is modern in style, with sleek matte black appliances and brick backsplash.

"Oh, let me see. You go get Connor down here," Judith bends to check on the meat as Adam scoots by us and the central island, dodging pots and pans hanging overhead.

"Hi ladies, I see you've met my mother," He winks as he passes us on his way to the bedroom. "Make yourselves comfortable. Con, you better get out here," He calls as he heads down the hallway.

"Can I do anything to help?" I turn my attention to Judith, rushing around the kitchen, but never once looking frazzled. By the smell of things, she's got things handled pretty well, but I feel silly watching her work alone.

"Right," Gemma chirps. "Put us to work,"

Hm, she must really like Connor. I can't remember the last time I saw Gemma in the kitchen, except maybe to heat up a toaster pastry.

"Oh girls hush, go get settled in the living room, I'll have everything ready shortly." She waves a hand to dismiss us, the gesture reminding me of Nadine - if she can do it herself, she will, no questions asked. Like Nadine, I'm sure she's always the perfect hostess - I remind myself to take mental notes for when I finally invite everyone to see my condo.

Shrugging at Gemma, I pull her along with me to explore the rest of Adam's apartment. Large and open, it has almost an industrial look, with lots of exposed brick and pipe. Movie posters line the walls in thick, black frames, some with signatures scribbled in the corners. I never knew Adam was a film buff.

"Look at this," Gemma holds up a picture frame of Adam holding a young girl with chubby cheeks and eyes like his. "How cute,"

"Do you think we're the only ones he invited?" I ask, unsure why it matters.

Gemma shrugs, "I hope so. More food for me,"

We plop onto the plush sofa and I wonder who decorated Adam's apartment. If he did it on his own, he has excellent taste. However, something tells me his mother may have had something to do with the high quality furniture and house plants lining some of his shelves.

Soon, Adam and Connor join us, Connor's hair still damp from his shower. "She's not mad, right?" He worries out loud and Adam shakes his head.

"I told you not to wait so long," Adam sinks in the cushion next to mine. "Thanks for coming guys. Let's plan for drinks after this is all over?"

I roll my eyes at his dramatics but we all agree. After a couple of minutes, Connor heads to the kitchen to help Judith and hopefully redeem himself. Their playful banter floats out towards us, followed by Judith's boisterous laugh, and beside me, Adam relaxes.

"He seems close to your mom," Gemma notes, a hint of question in her voice.

"Oh, yeah." Adam takes a moment, "We were friends before we were college roommates actually, since grade school. Connor's parents worked a lot of hours at their diner, so he spent a lot of time at my house growing up. Mom always wanted a lot of kids, so..."

"And your dad?" I find myself asking. Sometimes I worry that people feel they can't talk about their parents around me, when the truth is that I love hearing about people's families. It reminds me of my own.

Adam shrugs, a broad smile on his face. "My dad knows who the boss is."

I chuckle beside him, already getting the impression that his mother has always been a force to be reckoned with.

Gemma nods, too, brows crinkled in thought. "I like the sound of that,"

Before I can agree that poor Connor has no idea what he's in for, I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. Unable to hide my grin when I see Beau's picture on my screen, I excuse myself to the guest bedroom to take the call.

"Beau!" I answer, my excitement evident in just one word.

"Emma, it's good to hear your voice." His words soothe my nerves without even trying. "I'm sorry I haven't called. I broke my phone," Beau admits sheepishly. The angry part of me wants to question him, to find out how he broke his phone, where he was when he did it, why he didn't borrow someone else's to tell me.

The other part is just so damn happy to be talking with him.

"How's everything? How was New York?" My mind backtracks to the last time we checked in. Various headlines about Beau and Rey's relationship come flooding forward. My mind argues within itself, not wanting to spoil the time we have to talk, but also demanding to know the truth.

"It's great, everything's been great. I'm tired but getting back into the swing of things," He sounds hesitant, like there's more he isn't telling me.

"How's Rey?" I plop down in the desk chair and pick at my cuticles. "I know you were worried about her,"

There's silence on the other end for a couple of seconds before Beau finally lets out a deep sigh. "It's too soon to tell, I think."

For the first time, the quiet between us is awkward and I'm not sure what to say next. Before I can figure it out, there's a light knock at the door. Putting my phone to my shoulder, I look to the door to see Adam sticking his head in.

"Hey, food's ready when you are." His smile is genuine as he tells me to tell Beau "hello" before ducking back out and closing the door behind him.

Feeling guilty and a bit rude, I know I have to be quick. Before I can make use of our time to hear more about the tour, Beau chirps up on the other end.

"Was that Adam?"

I detect a hint of annoyance in his voice but try to ignore it. "Yeah; you're going to make fun of me for sure," I chuckle, eyeing the row of classic novels along the desk shelf. "I'm at a dinner party."

I bite my lip for his reply, but surprisingly he laughs a little, his voice sounding lighter. "I always knew I was dating a grandma,"

I chuckle and we fall into another uncomfortable silence. I'm not sure why, but it's like he doesn't really want to be talking to me right now. Not exactly something I'm used to with this new Beau.

I decide to bring up the Rey stuff gently. "You know, you've had me worried the past few days. According to social media-" My tone is playful but he cuts me of anyways.

"Hold that thought, Em. I'll call you right back,"
His voice is hurried and I let my own trail off as he promises to be quick.

But Beau doesn't hang up in time, not before I hear what I'm sure he'd been trying to hide.

"We're back!" Rey's voice yells in the background. We?

Following hers, a male voice asks Beau "What's up, man?"

For a second, I can't place where I know the voice from. And then it hits me.

Jace.

My heart sinks as my fears seem to confirmed.

"Beau?" I catch him before he ends the call. "Don't hang up." I wait until I hear a sigh on the other end to continue. "Is that Jace?"

"Yeah."

He sounds guilty - guilty, and irritated that he's been caught. I wait for him to continue but he doesn't. My heart sinks lower into my belly and I clear my throat before speaking.

"Have you been drinking?"

"What?" He scoffs. Not a denial.

"There's pictures of you going to a club," I say blankly. "Holding hands with Rey, actually."

I can picture him in my mind now - his bright green eyes, hopefully clear and focused, his dark tattoos poking out of his shirt collar, his dark hair pulled back with a rubber band. Right now he'd run a hand over his hair, like he always does when he's uncomfortable or put on the spot.

"Em, come on. I'll explain later. I don't want to do this now," His voice is pleading and tired but I stand my ground.

"Later?" I roll my eyes up to the ceiling. "When should I put us down for? Sometime next week, will that work for you?" Sarcasm drips off my tongue, my words harsher than I intended them to be.

"Emma, it's not like that," Beau is almost inaudible over Rey's shouting in the background, telling him to hurry up before dinner gets cold.

"You better go." I mumble, mood completely opposite of when I answered the call. "We've both got dinner waiting."

Without really waiting for him to say anything, I hang up. Immediately, my phone vibrates with a new text.

Beau: I can't explain if you hang up on me

Furiously, I send a message back. "We both have plans and it's rude to keep them waiting. We'll talk later, I've waited this long for an explanation already, what difference does it make?"

I shove my phone in my pocket, ignoring the new message tone, and make my way to the dining room.

"I'm so sorry, I had to take that call. Everything smells so delicious," I tell Judith honestly, taking my place beside Gemma.

"Don't apologize. I do need your help though," Judith taps a manicured nail to her chin. "Sweet potatoes or regular mashed? We have both, but the children," She gestures to Adam and Connor, "Would like the matter settled once and for all."

I smirk, reaching for the regular bowl to answer her question. As I do, Adam let's out a prideful "Whoop!"

"Told you," He taunts Connor. "That's one more point for me,"

I stare at them both quizzically before Judith informs me of their game. "They've done this since they were little - argue over silly things. Which is better - living on the moon or Mars? Is a hot dog a sandwich?"

"Mayo or mustard?" Adam offers.

Connor laughs, adding his own example. "Do you put your shirt or your jeans on first?"

"Oh!" Gemma sits straighter in her chair. "I've got one: is water wet?"

Judith raises her hands in surrender as I dig into the pot roast, belly rumbling loudly. As Connor and Gemma debate both sides, Adam gives me a small smile.

"Everything okay?" He mutters, taking a sip of red wine.

I nod my head. "All good, thanks."

Grinning even wider, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. "Good, because you're up. Go on, think of a question,"

I lay down my fork and do as I'm told, thinking up some ridiculous question with no correct answer to present to the group. With each passing turn, I continue to drink more wine, laughing with my friends and slowly letting go of all of my doubts, even if just for this evening.