In the car, Mom chatters about tomorrow's plans—dinner, family coming, cousins with their boyfriends. I can see her gearing up for something.
"We'll need to stop by the store tomorrow," Mom says. "I didn't plan for extra people. Claire, honey, you know how much you usually eat at these things—"
"Actually," Garth interrupts smoothly, "I'd love to cook. I insist on making dinner as a thank you for having me."
Mom blinks. "Oh, you don't need to!"
"I want to. Besides, I enjoy cooking for Claire." He squeezes my hand. "She appreciates good food."
I stare at him. He just redirected away from my eating habits while making it sound like a compliment.
"Well, that's lovely," Mom says, sounding confused.
At the house, Mom shows Garth to the guest room separate from mine, like we’re freaking teenagers, and I follow her to the kitchen.
"Claire." She's using her quiet voice. "He's very handsome."
Here it comes.
"I'm just surprised. You never mentioned anyone, and he's so... put-together. You've been working so hard, and I didn't think—I mean, he's very fit and successful, and you've been—"
"I'm going to stop you right there." Garth's voice comes from the doorway. He's leaning against the frame, arms crossed, expression pleasant but eyes like steel. "Susan, I'm sure you mean well, but we need to be very clear about something."
Mom's eyes go wide. "I didn't mean—"
"Your daughter is brilliant." His voice is calm but absolutely firm. "She's beautiful. She's the most capable person I've ever worked with, and frankly, I'm lucky she gave me a chance." He takes a step into the kitchen. "So if you're about to make some comment about her weight or her eating or anything else designed to make her feel less than perfect, this will be the last time I'm in your home."
The kitchen is dead silent.
Mom's mouth opens and closes. "I'm her mother. I'm concerned about her health!"
"Her health is between her and her doctor." Garth's tone doesn't change. "What's not healthy is a mother who criticizes her daughter every time they're together."
Mom looks at me, hurt flashing across her face. "Claire, are you going to let him speak to me like that?"
"Yeah." My voice is steady. "Yeah, I am. Because he's right, Mom. You do this every holiday. Comments about my weight, what I'm eating, how I should try some diet. And I'm done pretending it doesn't hurt."
Her face crumples. "I just want you to be happy."
"I am happy." I step closer to Garth. "I'm happy with my job. I'm happy with my life. I'm happy with him. But I can't be happy around you if this keeps happening."
Mom is quiet for a long moment, and I can see her struggling. Finally: "I didn't realize it bothered you that much."
"It always has. I just never said anything."
She wipes at her eyes. "Your father used to tell me I was too hard on you. I thought I was helping, but I..." She looks at Garth. "I'm sorry. And thank you. For standing up for her when I haven't."
Garth's expression softens slightly. "She makes it easy."
Later, after Mom's gone to bed, Garth and I are lying in the guest bed together, because we both agreed separate rooms was ridiculous, and I'm tucked against his chest.
"Thank you," I whisper. "For earlier."
"I meant every word." His arms tighten around me. "No one gets to make you feel small. Not even your mother."
"I thought I told you not to defend me."
"I know. I ignored you." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Get used to it."
