“Now, the hard part—waiting to see if it’s any good.”
“It is,” he says with a firm nod. “I can’t wait to read it.”
My face feels flushed as I realize he’s likely to figure out who Ian is.
* * *
Two hours later, my mom and I watch Liam’s truck back down the driveway. My mom sighs happily. “Oh, I think I’m in love.”
“Poor Dad. He’ll be devastated.”
“Not Liam. Olive. What a dear, sweet child.”
“I know. She’s something else.”
“Don’t get me wrong. Liam’s wonderful too.” She gives me a sideways glance. “Better than Todd Blackwell even.”
“The very successful dentist?” I pretend to be shocked. “Not possible.”
She laughs. “I think it is possible. I feel like I really know Liam already. He’s just such an open and warm man. Charming. Completely charming.”
Unlike Isaac. She doesn’t say it, but it’s there. I give my mom a kiss on the cheek and swallow the snippy comment on my tongue. “Thank you for being here, Mom.”
She gives me a serious look. “Abby—”
“Mom, don’t. Please, let’s just end the day on a high note. You’re not going to change my mind.”
“I know. You’ve pretty much ignored every piece of advice I’ve given you since you were twelve.”
“High note, Mom. Please?”
“It’s okay for you to figure out your own path, Abby. Really it is. Just so long as it’s not fear steering you in the wrong direction.”
* * *
My mom is leaving today. I’m still too sore to make the trip so Liam has offered to drive her to the airport in Sydney for me. I agreed to take him up on it, then spent the entire evening making my mother promise not to try any matchmaking on the way to the airport.
I stand at the doorway to the spare bedroom, watching as my mom packs. She’s a whirlwind of activity, quickly deciding what goes in her carry-on and what will go in her over-sized suitcase. I’ve managed to make it to the local gift shop to send home some maple syrup and red mittens with Canadian flags for the kids, my dad, and my grandma. A feeling of sadness comes over me as my mom lays her favorite blue sweater on top of her clothes.
“Mom, I know I haven’t exactly been easy since you got here.”
“You’re in pain. No one’s at their best when they’re in pain.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a turd.” My eyes fill with tears. “And I want you to know that I’m really just so grateful that you came all this way to look after me.”
She crosses the room and wraps me in a deep hug. After a long, warm moment, she kisses my forehead like she used to do when I was a girl. “It’s okay, Abby. I understand. You’ve had a hard time for quite a while, and I’ve been sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong these last few days. But I know you love me, even when you’re mad as hell at me.”
“I do.” I kiss her on her cheek. It’s soft and smooth and full of comfort. “I’ll try to come home for Christmas.”
“Only if you’re all healed up. I don’t want you to push yourself.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine by then.”
She gives me another squeeze. “Good. Because it’s just not the same without you.”
* * *
That evening when I climb into bed, I see a note on my pillow. It’s written in my mom’s loopy, perfect handwriting.
