“Mom, you are pressuring again. Stop. I told you—we are not ready for that.”
We haven’t even had sex, I thought, but bit down on the words.
She had no clue how far from grandkids she really was.
“We want to enjoy our honeymoon phase, okay? Now, will you relax, go home? Go knit or do something that people in their sixties do.”
She huffed and flung her towel on the table. “Ah, mi fai impazzire.”
“I heard that,” I called as she stormed off.
“Mom,” I said, just before she slipped out.
She paused.
“Why did you never date after Dad? Didn’t you want to move on?”
She turned slowly, eyes softening. For a moment, I saw something ancient flicker across her face. Regret, maybe. Or just the weight of years she never talked about.
“Why? Where is this coming from?”
I shrugged, pretending like the question didn’t burn in my chest.
“Because,” she said, lifting her chin, “I had a daughter. And I didn’t want men coming in and out of our lives, especially men who weren’t her father. I didn’t want to do that to you or her. So I made a decision that I thought was best for us at the time.”
She looked away, then back. “I know not having a father around could hurt you, but choosing the wrong guy? That could have hurt worse. I loved you both too much to risk it. So I stayed alone… so you’d know what love was supposed to look like.”
I nodded slowly, eyes drifting down to the floor.
“Even though you both are a pain in my ass.” She smirked and turned, walking out the door.
I stood there for a beat, that smile tugging at my lips, until the noise in the kitchen brought me back to reality.
After checking in with the line, I stepped out onto the main floor, moving from table to table, putting on the charm, making sure everyone was satisfied.
Then I turned the corner.
And there she was—Mel.
Her ponytail was up, and her laughter rang out across the room, light, easy. It stopped me in my tracks.
She was laughing at something Josh said.
My stomach dropped. Jaw tightened. A pulse of heat surged in my chest and rose straight to my face. Then I saw his hand resting on hers, casually, like he had the right. Red flashed across my vision. My fists curled at my sides, and all I could think about was how satisfying it would feel to knock that smug look off his face.
So I started walking, straight toward the table.
19
MELANIE
“Good evening,” Nick’s voice slices in behind me, low and close. I snap my head back, pulse kicking up.
“Nick, hi,” I say, forcing cheer into my voice like I’m shoving it through clenched teeth.
“Hi, Honey,” he murmurs, palm landing low on my back. He leans in, lips brushing my cheek—warm, possessive—and then squares up to Josh.
“Nice to see you in here again. No Colt or Abigail tonight?”
