Damn. I was in deep shit now. “Vivian knows?”
“Of course, she does. As I said, anyone with eyes in her head could see it. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t noticed it before now. I don’t see why it took Sophia yelling at you across a crowded juice bar—”
“It wasn’t that crowded, Mom. And she was on the other side of the table, not the other side of the room.”
“Whatever. The point is that you said hurtful things to that sweet girl, and Harry, honestly. How could you? I thought I’d raised a gentle-spirited boy who respected women, not a-a—well, a dumbass.”
I closed my eyes. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Mom. Give me some credit, okay?”
“I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, son.” She gazed at me for a solid minute and then sighed. “Harry. I’m sorry, sweetie. I know this has been a jolt for you. I guess as your mama, I should’ve said something before now, but I don’t like to interfere in my kids’ lives if I can help it.”
“I appreciate that, usually, but from now on, if you know something this important, you have my full support to step in and whack me upside the head. Please.”
“I’ll make note of that.” Mom stood up and moved to the stove. Taking down my favorite Santa Claus mug from the cabinet, she lifted a pot from the front burner and poured something that looked delicious into the cup. “When Preston texted me that you were on your way home, I made you some hot chocolate. You’re an adult now, Harry. I can’t fix your boo-boos and make you feel better. I can’t fight the world for you, or explain away your mistakes.” She carried the steaming cocoa to me and set it down. “But I can still make you hot chocolate when you’re sad. I can still hug you when you’re hurting. And I’ll always be here to listen, no matter what.”
I wrapped one arm around my mother’s waist and buried my face against her, just as I had when I was small. “Thanks, Mom.”
Her hand rested on my head. “What’re you going to do? About Sophia, I mean.”
“I’m not sure yet,” I hedged, drawing back and sipping my hot chocolate. “I’m so confused. I want to apologize, but I don’t want to say anything to her that I might not mean. What if I say that I love her, too, but it turns out that I’m just trying to be nice?”
“Professing your love for Sophia—your romantic love, I mean—would be the cruelest thing you could do if you’re not as sure about it as you can be.” Mom sat down again. “No one is ever a hundred percent certain about things like this. Heck, your dad and I have been married for over thirty-five years, and sometimes, there are days when I’m still not sure about him.” She winked at me. “So think about this, Harry. But don’t expect the angels to sing and a light to dawn.”
“Then how will I know?” I knew that my mother was right, but wouldn’t it be nice if the angels did sing, and I had a total revelation about my feelings toward Sophia? Or maybe it would come to me in a dream . . .
“Consider a couple of things. How would you feel if you realized you could never have Sophia in your life again?”
Panic gripped me. “Not good at all. I don’t want to lose her.”
“Uh-huh.” Mom nodded. “And who do you text as soon as you wake up in the morning?”
“Sophia.” It was true. We’d had a running text thread for years, and it almost always included good mornings and goodnights.
“When you think about the future, about getting married, having children, starting a family . . . who do you imagine by your side?”
That was more complicated. I was twenty-three years old. I didn’t think about those things often. “I don’t know. Marriage and kids seem pretty far away still.”
Mom smirked. “That’s right. I forgot for a minute that I wasn’t dealing with one of your sisters. Okay, well, table that for a while. Let’s think of this. If Sophia announced that she was marrying someone else—this Zeke guy, for instance, who, by the way, really is a very nice person—how would you feel about it?”
“She can’t marry him.” The words burst out of my mouth without any thought. “She’s not supposed to marry him. He’s not the one for Sophia.”
“Ah.” My mother closed her eyes. “That’s interesting, isn’t it?”
“Is that my answer, then?” I was like a drowning man, looking for a dependable piece of driftwood to save me.
“It’sananswer.” Mom rose to her feet. “I’m going to bed, sweetie. I suggest you take some of this conversation and think about it some more. Take a few days. Sophia isn’t going to want to see you for a while, anyway, so you might as well give yourself some time to consider what it is you want.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to just tell me what I should do?” I asked hopefully as she left the kitchen. “Or maybe Dad would?”
“Ha!” My mother laughed. “Dad and I are officially Switzerland now.”
“What about the girls?” All of my sisters had always been more than willing to give me advice, even when I didn’t want it.
“You can ask them, but remember that they don’t have all the answers, either. Caveat emptor, you know.”
“Yeah.” I stared up at the ceiling. “When did life get so hard, Mom? I thought I had it bad when I didn’t get the Pokemon cards I wanted for Christmas. I’d give everything to go back to those days.”
Mom laughed softly. “There’s no going back, love. Someday, you’ll look back on this time and wish things were this easy and clear-cut.” She kissed my cheek. “Possibly when your son comes to you with questions about his love life. Good night, Harry. Love you.”
