Page 67 of Falling for Keeps

She waves his comment away. “You’re already helping enough.”

“Are you coming to the potluck?” Dad asks.

We all confirm.

“Will your new guy be there?” Rosie asks me.

Both men swivel toward me. “There’s no new guy,” I say quickly. “I’m kind of seeing Seth. We work together at the library.”

Dominic wrinkles his nose. “I thought he was a tool.”

“He’s changing,” Rosie says with air quotes.

“We’ll see.” I’m noncommittal, ignoring the way she sarcastically came to his defense and how it wasn’t a defense at all. “Just don’t want to end up alone, here.”

Dominic frowns. “That doesn’t mean you should settle.”

Are the men in my life having secret meetings behind my back? I can’t help picturing Carson’s earnest face when he said the same thing to me this morning.

“You kids are all about settling/not settling,” Dad says, putting his fork down. “When have you considered that sometimes it’s an excuse for being too picky, eh? Maybe you’re really not giving a man a good chance when he was nervous on the first date. Maybe we need more time to see all the good in the other person.”

Is this what’s going on with his new girlfriend? He decided being picky is for losers and he’s mining for the good in her?

“Those are all great points,” I say. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do with Seth anyway, Dom. I want to make sure I’ve given us a solid chance before writing him off.”

Rosie doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t say anything else.

“I know.” I put down my utensils and wipe my lips with a napkin. “Why don’t we go around the table and each share one memory about Mom?”

Dad lets out a funny sound, but since it sounds sad, we all ignore it.

“I’ll start,” I say. “Once when I was about ten, I had a bad day at school, so Mom let me stay home the next day. We went to the library to pick out books and ended up there at story time. Most of the kids were way younger than me because my friends were all at school, but the librarian made us feel welcome. It was a musical one, and we played instruments that went along with the book. I think that’s the moment I decided I wanted to be a librarian when I grew up.”

“How did I not know about this?” Rosie asks.

“Mom made me promise not to say anything so you guys wouldn’t complain about having to go to school.”

Dom laughs, and Rosie makes a conceding expression.

“After the library, we took a stack of books to the bakery, got maple bars, and ate them while we walked along the water.”

“It sounds idyllic,” Rosie says.

“It was. I got home and read my entire stack of books. It felt like the best day of my life.”

“You know why she did that?” Dad asks, his face soft. “Because you were going through some friend drama and she felt you needed to know how loved and important you are. She made the argument that missing one day was worth filling you with confidence, and all that one-on-one special attention would do just that.”

I’m so stunned, I don’t even have an immediate reaction. Friend drama is a nice way to say that I was struggling to feel like I fit in anywhere. I had no idea Mom even knew. When I came home crying the day before our library excursion, she didn’t press me for details, only made sure I wasn’t being bullied, that I was safe.

She must have called my teacher or something to get the details. Somehow, knowing her intentions with that day only makes it mean more. She was being my mom in the best way.

“I never played hooky like that, but Mom let me wear her favorite necklace for like a month straight once because I thought it was pretty.” Rosie gives a watery laugh. “I loved how she would make so many cookies and farm us out to the neighbors with plates. It was such a simple way to show we’re thinking of them. I didn’t see it as a kid, but now I can appreciate how thoughtful she was.”

The double chocolate chunk cookies sit on the counter, watching us. My mom impacted me so deeply. It was second nature to send some home with Carson this morning. Did I double the batch subconsciously with the Prices in mind? Probably.

“She helped us see the value in ourselves,” Dom says quietly.

“Mom was good at that,” Dad agrees.