“I thought I’d marry him,” I admit. “I knew he’d been looking at rings because he left a browser open on the computer. I was really just waiting on him to pop the question,” I say, refusing to look at Lance. “Then he breaks up with me out of nowhere, so I figure he’s getting cold feet. It happens. But then six weeks or something later, I’m asked to come to lunch at Mom’s and there he sits with Chrissy.”
“Your mom just let this happen?” he asks in disbelief.
“Oh, yeah,” I nod enthusiastically. “It was my fault I was boring and didn’t fix myself up or stay exciting. What’s a man to do?”
Lance’s knuckles turn white as they grip the steering wheel. The tires bark a little as we take the final turn. I watch him in awe as he physically reacts to this story. That he cares enough, in any respect, to even react at all is both a little shocking and mind-blowing at once.
As the house comes into view, my breathing becomes ragged. I blow out a measured breath as the car climbs the hill up to the driveway.
“Here we are,” he says, parking behind a giant white SUV. “If I need bail, call Walker. You’d think Machlan because he owns a bar and this is more his speed, but he’d just find Eric and go at him for round two.”
Swatting his shoulder, I giggle. “You won’t need bail. They aren’t fighting people. Just assholes.”
“Yeah,” he says as he pops open his door. “But I am fighting people and I have a thing against assholes.”
He shakes his head, warning me not to open my door as he rounds the corner of the car. I sit like a princess, waiting for my door to be opened. It’s amusing and endearing at the same time because, although he’s done this a few times, something is slightly different about it now. And I’m okay with that.
“Listen,” I say as we start up the long sidewalk lined with rose bushes. “They are different from me.”
“I met your mother, remember?” he groans.
“Yes, but today will be different. Today she has Chrissy and the baby.” My throat is tight as I force a swallow. “They’re her pride and joy. I’m used to it. I know what it’s going to be like. But—”
He whirls me around to face him. Startled, I gasp but the breath falls slowly away as my eyes catch up with his.
He peers down at me, his green eyes sparkling. “You’re here because you’re the bigger person. I’m here because I’m with you. If they try to make you feel any less than you are—less smart or beautiful or talented—it’s because they’re insecure.”
There are hundreds of responses to that, but I can’t seem to utter a single one. His compassionate words have incapacitated mine.
My heart pounds as his hands cup my cheeks. “If I even think you’re starting to let them get to you, we’re gone.” He presses a sweet, simple kiss to the center of my cheek. It’s the most unloaded kiss I’ve ever received from him, but maybe my favorite one too.
Like a fool, I just nod, unable to come up with a coherent reply.
Lacing our fingers together, ignoring my sweaty palms, he leads me to the door. He presses the doorbell, still holding onto my hand.
Each second that passes feels like a lifetime and I want to turn around and go. I have no idea what to expect other than knowing I’ll be leaving with the understanding of how much I fail to make the cut in my mom’s eyes. That’s a given.
As we wait on her, the good ol’ script that always runs through my head starts playing. It reminds me that her mother died when she was ten and her grandmother passed away before that. It’s not totally her fault she doesn’t know how to behave in this role; she’s never been shown. It’s an excuse, I know, but one that does make her inadequacy a little easier to swallow.
The door opens. Mom is standing on the other side, a baby nestled in a soft pink blanket in her arms. “Good morning, Mariah,” she says. “I’m so happy you could make it.”
The sight of her with the baby startles me. I knew Chrissy’s daughter would be here and it’s really the main reason I agreed to this idiotic idea. But seeing the little button nose sticking out of the top of the blankets is enough to sock the wind right out of me.
Lance swoops in for the save. “Happy birthday, Taylor,” he says, squeezing my hand. “It was nice of you to invite us.”
“What a wonderful surprise,” she coos. “I was sure you wouldn’t come.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks.
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sure you have more interesting things you could be doing today than accompany my daughter.”
My initial reaction is to turn away and head to the car. Her jab coupled with the sight of the baby is a bit much for the first twenty seconds, but Lance’s hand grips down on mine. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“How sweet,” she purrs. “Come in. Your sister and her husband are already in the living room. I was going to invite some friends to brunch with us, but thought we could have a family get together instead.”
It crosses my mind that she might intentionally be trying to drive me crazy as we head through the foyer. The house is nothing like I remember it. It’s nearly all-white now with lots of gold mirrors. Oversized vases sit here and there with sprays of fake flowers jutting out the top. There’s nothing comfortable or home-like about any of it, not that it felt like a home when I lived here.
We go through a newly-rounded doorway where the crystals from a chandelier send sparkles of light throughout the room. We turn a corner and I stop in my tracks.
Chrissy and Eric are standing along a wall of windows. They’re clearly awaiting our arrival. Lance takes a step closer to me as I try to maintain my composure.
My brain is muddled trying to decide what I should say or need to say or whether or not I should say anything at all.
Chrissy looks older than the last time I saw her. Her hair is now a reddish brown and her cheeks fuller than before. She reminds me of our father, in a way, and I wonder if she’s seen him lately.
Eric sports a beer belly that sticks out over the buckle of his belt. His hairline is receding slightly, even earlier than I predicted. There’s no twinkle in his eye, no joke on the tip of his tongue, and I wonder what I ever saw in him to begin with.
“Hello,” Lance says, breaking the ice. “How’s everyone doing?”
Eric darts across the room. “Hi. I’m Eric.” He offers Lance a hand, pointedly ignoring me. Lance bites back a smile as he shakes Eric’s hand.
“I’m Lance. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” He looks at me and then right back to Lance. “That’s my wife, Chrissy, and our daughter, Betsy.”
Lance forces a swallow. “This is my girlfriend Mariah, but I think you already know that.”
My elbow finds his side and I can feel his body shifting with a silent chuckle.
“Nice to see you, Mariah.” Eric nods in my direction before rejoining my sister a few feet away.
I don’t want to look at any of them. It’s safe tucked against Lance’s side, depending on his predictable way of taking the reins when I need him to. I just wish we were some place else together.
“How are you, Mariah?” It’s Chrissy’s voice, soft and careful, that breaks the awkward silence.
“I’m good.” I pull my gaze away from Lance and settle it on my sister. “How are you, Chrissy?”
“I’m good.” She tries to give me a smile, but seems to be unsure whether it’s the right thing to do.
“Mariah,” Mom calls out. “There are appetizers in the dining room. I know how hungry you get and it’ll be a few minutes before brunch is ready.”
It’s a dig. It’s a dig as deep as the Mariana Trench. My teeth grind together knowing it’ll likely be the first of many.
Lance crooks his head so he can look me in the eye. It’s like he pulls me in, reminding me of who I am and who I’m not. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Giving him a quick smile, I turn to my family. Mom is still snuggling the baby on the sofa. Since she’s the real reason I agreed to this, I make a play. “Can I hold Betsy?”
Mom seems thrown by my question. My sister looks at me, slightly less thrown than our mother.
I don’t say anything and neither does she, but we quietly agree. Heading to the sofa, I wait as my mom lays the baby still swaddled in pink in my arms.
“Oh,” I say softly, pressing the blankets down so I can see her face. My eyes fill with tears as I take her in. Chrissy’s long, dark eyelashes and Eric’s full lips are present. I gasp when I see her tiny birthmark just above her upper lip like mine. “Hey, you,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I’m your Aunt Mariah.”
I feel a connection to this beautiful little angel that supersedes the emotions I have about her parents. She’s tiny and innocent and deserving of so much love that I hope I can be a part of her life in some meaningful way.
Raising her to my lips, I press a kiss to her sweet-smelling skin. My heart clenches as I hold her close, rocking her gently back and forth. When I open my eyes, I’m looking at Lance.
His brows are furrowed, his jaw working back and forth. He doesn’t look angry as Chrissy approaches me. He doesn’t look worried either. He looks like he’s thinking about something that is taking every bit of his mental power to process.
“Isn’t she perfect?” Chrissy whispers, coming up beside me. There’s a hesitation in her tone, like she’s feeling me out.
“She’s beautiful,” I say softly. “She has my birthmark.” I pull her away from my chest and look at her again. “You are so pretty, Miss Betsy. Your great grandma would’ve loved you so, so much.”
“Let me see her,” Lance says, reaching for the baby.
I’m not sure I heard him right. But, sure enough, he takes the few steps toward me with his arms outstretched. He holds my gaze as I lay the baby in his strong arms.