“Come on in,” I say, timidly. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Um…”
“I have whiskey.”
He looks far too relieved. “Yes. Yes please. A whiskey would be great.”
Stepping inside slowly, he looks around at our home. “This is nice. Really nice. When did you move in?”
He follows me to the kitchen where I pour out two glasses because God knows I need a little bit of help today too.
“About a year ago. It took some time to organize all our assets after Gerard passed, and I wanted to get a place near to Paige’s school but not too far from my Mom’s, and?—”
I turn around and release a breath. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. It’s just?—”
“You look…” Augie stares at me, his gaze covering every inch of my body in a matter of seconds. “Christ, Erin, you look...”
I swallow but my nerves are not in favor of forming a coherent response.
“Thanks. Um, so do you.”
He takes a step forward, tentatively. “Thank you for letting me be here. It means a lot to me.”
“It means a lot to Paige too, it seems.”
“She’s an amazing kid.”
“I know.”
We continue to stare at each other. I’d rehearsed everything I was going to say but right now, I can’t remember any of it, and I don’t want to.
“Mom!” Paige yells from a room upstairs. “I need your help!”
Augusto smiles and I feel the relief roll off my shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
I collide with my mother in the hallway. Her arms are full of shoes.
“You’re on dress duty,” she says, breathlessly. “I’m on footwear.”
“Roger that.”
I run up the stairs and find Paige in my bedroom standing in front of the large mirror, a floor-length scarlet red gown draped over her teenage body, the delicate hem just skimming the wooden floor. I stop at the edge of the room and press a hand to my chest.
Paige sees me over her shoulder in the reflection. “Do I look okay?” she asks timidly.
“You look beautiful, my darling. Just… utterly beautiful.”
“You’re sure you’re not just saying that?”
I step up behind her and sweep a curl from her face. “I’m not just saying it. You look all grown up, like a real lady. I still can’t believe this is your junior prom.”
She turns to face me and I cup her chin gently.
“You have grown up to be the most precious, funny, kind, caring, bright and driven young woman. You make me so proud every day.”
“Mom, don’t,” she sniffs. “You’ll make me cry.”
“Okay.” I wave a hand in front of my face to curb my own tears. “But just know you look absolutely beautiful my love and don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise—ever. You got that?”
