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“Can’t I be a ballerina in Hartson’s Creek?” she’d asked frowning.
“Probably.” That conversation was for another day. The kid was only seven, after all.
Pres walked around the breakfast bar to where his mom was standing, the wooden spoon she was using to stir the gravy still in her hand. Her hips were swaying softly, as Elvis crooned that he was having a blue Christmas.
“Can I do something to help?” Pres asked for the third time that morning.
And once again his mom shook her head. “No. We've got this. Your dad is just sharpening his knives.”
Another Thanksgiving tradition. His dad's carving knives were his babies. If anybody else touched them he'd have a fit. And Pres knew better than to try.
“So, how's work? You started on a new job, didn’t you?” his mom asked, stirring the gravy again.
“Yep. A commercial building. It's good. Busy, but good.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Actually, Mom, there's something I want to talk to you about. While nobody else is around.”
His mom turned off the burner, sensing the seriousness in his voice. “What is it?”
"I'm planning to propose to Cassie today."
His mom's eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face. “Oh, Pres. That's wonderful news!”
He grinned because it really was. He and Cassie had talked about this. About marriage and family and babies. And they’d agreed they’d know when the time was right.
Last week they’d gone shopping for some outfits for Gemma’s new baby – a boy – and it felt like something had changed. They probably weren’t ready for children yet, but they would be.
And if they wanted that someday, he was going to be married to the woman.
“Thanks,” he said softly. “I just wanted to ask your advice on something.”
“What is it?” She tipped her head to the side. “If it's my blessing you want, you know you've got it. Not that you need it, you're both grown adults.” She gave him a soft smile. “You’ve done everything right, honey. You’ve taken it slow. Made sure Delilah is happy. But you deserve this for yourself.”
Yeah, they’d taken it slow over the past year and a bit. Cassie was still living in her house, and he in his. But it was getting harder and harder to say goodnight to her without having her in his bed.
He was ready for the next step. He hoped she was too.
But that wasn’t what was bothering him.
“I’m wondering about Delilah. Should I talk to her before I propose? After?” He lifted a brow. “I googled it and there was no consensus.” Damn the internet. Where was it when you needed some black and white advice?
His mom thought for a moment, her soft gaze on him. Her brows pulled together as she finally responded. “You know what? I think you should talk to her first. She's a smart girl. She'll understand what's going on. And if there's something she hates, it's not being included in things.”
Wasn't that the truth? She'd gotten used to him and Cassie disappearing on date night, but she preferred it when he and Cassie spent time with her.
And they did it a lot.
Cassie hadn't been lying when she said she loved his daughter. Watching the two of them bond over the past year had been one of the most beautiful experiences of his life.
It was like they both needed each other. Cassie needed to be a better mom than her own, and Delilah needed somebody to love her like a mom.
“And you know,” his mom continued. “If Cassie says no, then she'll be able to help you explain it to Delilah. She loves that little girl so much.”
He blinked, shocked by her words. “You think she'll say no?” His stomach tightened.
Something about his expression made his mom laugh.
“No, I don't. But I can imagine you're thinking the worst. So I thought I'd add that in there.” She walked over to check on the turkey.
“By the way, Cassie told me her mom called last week,” his mom said when she’d checked the temperature of the turkey and put it back in the oven. Her eyes were soft. She knew how difficult Cassie’s relationship with her mom was. He was proud of his mom for stepping in there and being supportive. Being the mom Cassie never had.
