And I love it. I love that look on his handsome face.
I set the picture down.
“Mom?”
“What, honey?”
“Is Dallas your home?”
“Well, I live here.”
I perch on the arm of the sofa. “But living there doesn’t mean it’s your home. Do you know what I mean?”
She hesitates, pulling in a breath as she considers my question.
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately,” I say. “How can I be thirty years old and still feel like a vagabond? Shouldn’t I be settled by now instead of avoiding serious relationships and only dating emotionally unavailable men?”
“That’s probably my fault.”
“I’m not bringing this up to make it your fault, Mom.”
“Oh, Megan, I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t set a very good example for you over the years.”
My insides still.
We don’t talk about this much, and we talk about it in depth even less. I don’t want to make her feel bad for anything she’s done. I’m sure she doesn’t spark a conversation about this because she doesn’t want me to feel inadequate about my choices. So we tiptoe around the topic like we’re walking on ice, afraid it’ll crack and we’ll fall through.
Neither of us wants to freeze to death.
But maybe now is the time we address things.
“For what it’s worth,” I say softly, “I think you’ve set a great example. You’re strong and smart, and don’t let anything bring you down. Look at the life you made for us. Think about all the memories we have together.”
“I appreciate that more than you know. But I … I’m responsible for the way you feel about relationships. You don’t want to let anyone in because you don’t want to wind up like me—old and alone with a string of men behind you. So instead of settling down and having a family—beautiful babies that I know would be the sweetest thing for you, honey—you stay on this island where you feel safe.” She sighs. “I can’t blame you for that. But I hate it.”
I stand, my chest shaking with trepidation. “Well, maybe … you know …” I glance around the room again. “If I could find the right person someday who would treat me well—someone I could trust not to take a sledgehammer to my life—maybe I could consider settling down with someone.”
“That’s my hope for you.”
That’s my hope for me too.
It scares me to admit it. My heart pounds, and my underarms sweat. Considering letting someone in my life in a way that matters is terrifying.
What if it starts a chain of men in and out of my life? What if they get close enough to hurt me like I’ve seen many men do to my mother in the past? What if I end up feeling like an impostor in my personal life?
I’ve never met anyone I implicitly trusted. There’s never been a man who I looked at and believed wholeheartedly was a good man. I haven’t met the country song version of a man who drives a truck and holds open doors. Someone who takes me toApplebees on a date night and is just as happy with a beer on the back porch as anything after supper.
My throat burns.
I’ve never met anyone like that until recently.
Adrenaline trickles through my veins, and I have to move. I walk into the kitchen and pace the room as my head spins.
Am I losing my mind? Am I losing touch with reality?
What am I thinking?
I’ve known Chase for almost two weeks.Two. Weeks.How do I rationalize this?
