“I’m not eight anymore, and I still have my real mom.”
“What’s really bothering you, Jenna?” She interrupted my spiel. “You know damn well that you’ll always be my daughter, and your mother doesn’t have any issues with you calling me ‘Mom,’ either.”
“I wish I never came on this stupid trip with him.”
“Your fiancé?”
“Yes, him. I should’ve stood firm, said no, and stayed in my condo with wine, reality shows, and cartons of Goldfish.” I paused. “I even have the new peppermint flavor.”
“You do? I’ve been looking for that one.”
“It’sdivine.”
“Wait a minute, back up.” She waved a hand. “Go back to the ‘should’ve stood firm and said no.’ You lost me here, hun.”
“I think I actually love this man.” My voice cracked. “Like real feelings that aren’t fake at all.”
“That’s a good thing.” She smiled. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever feel this close to another man,” I said. “He’s messing up the future I thought I wanted.”
“Okay.” She took the glass from my hand and set it on the deck. “I think you’ve had enough of this.”
“Do you understand what I’m saying here?” I asked. “I didn’t realize how much Nicholas meant to me.”
“That’s good, right?” She looked confused. “Shouldn’t he mean a lot if you’re marrying him?”
“No. Because I’m not really marrying him. I mean, I’m just his fiancée, for now. Don’t you understand?”
She threw up her hands as the back door swung open.
Nicholas stepped out with a drink in hand, looking between us.
“I’ll go to the other side,” he said. “I was just getting some fresh air.”
“No, don’t bother.” Mom smiled at him. “Jenna is having a mini meltdown and needs you right now. Don’t let her return inside until she’s sane. Please.”
She hugged me before disappearing inside.
Nicholas joined me at the railing, setting down his glass.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“There are tears in your eyes.”
“Those are snowflakes.”
“Okay.” He wiped my cheeks with his fingertips. “Snow isn’t typically warm.”
“I want a clean break when this is all over,” I said. “One hundred percent cold turkey, no communication whatsoever.”
“How much had you had to drink tonight?”
“No ‘how are you’ texts or emails, no ‘wondering how you’re doing’ calls in the middle of the night.” My voice cracked. “Just let me go so I can stop wishing for things that won’t happen, okay?”
He stared at me as the snow fell around us, searching my eyes for a translation of the words I’d said.
